Principal helps rescue family from Afghanistan
The “How to be a School Principal” book, if there was such a thing, most likely wouldn’t include a chapter on foreign extractions.
Brett Gustafson, the 51-year-old principal at Bridgeport’s James J. Curiale School at 300 Laurel Ave. on Bridgeport’s West Side, may now be able to write one for them.
Here’s how this school year began: In response to a general email he sent Aug. 22 to the families of the school’s 550 students, Gustafson three days later received this one (unedited): “Dear Mr. Gustafson, I hope you are doing well. We are stuck in Afghanistan and here is no flights. I don’t know when we come to USA. I want let you know.”
“We” is Fatema and her three children, two of them the only Afghans in the rich ethnic broth of Curiale school.
The email sent the 51-year-old Gustafson, even as he continued helping teachers, moving furniture and doing all that needs to be done to open a school, into an increasingly shadowy world more suited to a Jack Ryan plot than opening day of school.
Fatema had taken her children, all under 10, to her native Kabul to visit their grandparents. They are all passport-carrying U.S. citizens. No one, apparently including the residents of the White House, expected Kabul to fall so quickly.
Gustafson, himself the father of three, alerts U.S. Sens. Chris Murphy and Richard Blumenthal through their websites
That night, as he notes in a Facebook post, “I said a prayer to God and Allah (who are the same being, I guess) and to Jesus and Muhammad to cover all my bases, and went to sleep.”
The next morning, offers of help cascade. First, a lawyer friend calls to say her firm had people in Afghanistan. A cousin of Gustafson’s wife with experience in Washington says he knows people who could help. Murphy’s office calls, seeking information on the family.
But there is also a troubling new email from Fatema: “My husband is in USA. He is trying a lot but nobody call or email us. We need help. We can’t go to the airport because of a lot people. We are waiting to hear from consulate.”
U.S. Rep. Jim Himes also gets involved. An aide from his office asks for the exact location of the family so an “extraction team” can find them.
But on Aug. 26, the suicide bombing at the airport throws everything into even deeper chaos.
The next day, Himes’ office asks for photos of the family and advises Gustafson to tell them to stay in the same clothes to help the extraction team identify them.
More emails came from other groups involved in the airlift out of
The next day, Himes’ office asks for photos of the family and advises Gustafson to tell them to stay in the same clothes to help the extraction team identify them.
Kabul.
One reads, “Your case manager will contact you soon.”
Not long thereafter, from the shadows, comes a terse email: “Call me,” with a phone number.
Gustafson calls. A man answers and says his name is Zach. “Are you in contact with the family right now?”
It is 4:30 a.m. in Kabul. “She’s probably asleep,” Gustafson tells Zach.
“Is there any way to call her to wake her up?” Zach asks. Gustafson calls her, but the phone just rings.
He calls Zach back and says he could call Fatema’s husband, who is in Bridgeport, and may have another number.
“Do it now,” Zach insists. Gustafson calls the father — who was an interpreter for U.S. Special Forces in Afghanistan in the early phase of the war and would be a Taliban target if he returned to the country — tells him extraction is imminent and confirms she and the children are at the same address.
Gustafson calls Zach back and says they were good to go.
Zach responds, “Roger that. I will text you updates.”
Click.
The story has more twists than a mountain switchback.
They get to the airport, but Fatema’s phone has died. They spend time on a bus driven by a U.S. Army Ranger captain, but are paused because of multiple ISIS threats. The extraction team keeps them overnight in a safe house because of the danger.
On Saturday, Aug. 28, Fatema and her children lift off on a Boeing C-17 Globemaster.
Last week, reporters and camera crews from New York, New Haven and Bridgeport turned up at the school.
Why, I asked Gustafson, did he think this story resonates with so many people?
“You know,” he said, “we’re so divided. This shows what we can do together and that we can do things together.
“When I reached out for help, no one asked what party Fatema was aligned with, Republican or Democrat; no one asked if she was Muslim or Christian or Jewish, Black or white,” he said.
I’ll venture another reason: When many people outside the city hear the word “Bridgeport,” rightly or wrongly they’ll think of corruption, violence, failing schools and assorted categories of mayhem.
They would not be entirely wrong. But they would be far from right. Because all over the city are people like Brett Gustafson, just trying to do the right thing.
On Wednesday of last week, Gustafson received an email directly from Fatema, saying that she was safe in Spain and because of COVID protocol, she and her children would stay there for 10 days. We spoke Thursday.
One of his Facebook posts summed it up: “Never have I been prouder to be a principal; never have I been prouder to be an American!”