by Nazila Jamshidi
With the fall of Afghanistan to the Taliban on August 15, 2021, images and stories of the tragic rush of Afghans escaping the Taliban flooded the media across the world. The image of the gray military plane moving at the Kabul airport and hundreds of hopeless Afghans were running after it made the first page of all forms of media. But, the intensity and darkness of those scenes go beyond the images and stories of fifteen days of evacuation. For the young educated generation, the decision to leave one’s country that they have built up is indescribably painful. It is not just geography named Afghanistan they left; they left behind a life they lived, a society they built, the memories they made, and the values they fought for over 20 years.
What were simply harrowing images and words for people reading the news were unforgettable and heart-wrenching experiences of life to Afghans — both those fleeing the country and those observing the plight of their fellow Afghans from outside of Afghanistan. Among fleeing Afghans, there are generations who were raised in exile or as a refugee outside Afghanistan. They returned to their homeland voluntarily after the collapse of the Taliban regime in 2001 and immediately embraced their war-battled society. They contributed to the reconstruction of the country and healing the decades of devastating wars’ wounds in various capacities. Twenty years later, these Afghans have found themselves observing renewed fear as the Taliban asserted control over their motherland and as they were packing for a one-way journey to an uncertain destination.
Among them was Massoud Hossain, a photojournalist for Agence France-Presse and winner of the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News Photography, who returned to Afghanistan from Iran with his family in Spring 2002. “I was merely six months old when my family fled Kabul to Iran after my father, a supporter of the opposition to the occupation, was arrested by the communists.” Said Massoud. “I grew up as a refugee and went to school as a refugee.”
Ever since Massoud returned to the country of his birth, he traveled to different corners of Afghanistan and photographed people’s lives from various angles. From capturing the horrified face of a girl in green after the suicide attack on Ashura in Kabul to District Governor Salima Mazari pointing a gun and Herat local uprising groups fighting the Taliban, Massoud documented key moments of the war. “I photographed both the beauties of life without violence and the horror of war among Afghans,” said Massoud. “I believe that photographs depict the realities more apparent than a text. I wanted to show the plight and life of Afghans in the War on Terror to the world.”
Now 40, Massoud left Afghanistan one day before the Taliban takeover of Kabul. But, the horror of the country’s fall is still in Massoud’s heart and mind.
“It was hard to believe that everything was being destroyed,” he told me by phone from his new, temporary home. He was recalling his last days in Kabul, just a few weeks earlier.“Twenty of the best years of my life, all my memories, the houses that reminded me of love, the vibrant Red Bridge cafes, the friends’ gatherings, the parties, and everything else was falling apart. The smell of death and an inexpressible horror was approaching Kabul.”
Massoud’s flight to Turkey was booked for August 15. “In memory of Herat, a city where I first arrived and lived in upon my return to Afghanistan, I wore a traditional outfit with Herati motifs and took a photo on the roof of the building, which shows Kabul, my unrepeatable love, behind me,” he said.
The next day, Massoud woke up to the sound of gunfire. “It was 5 a.m., so I quickly packed my bags, took my documents, my camera, laptop, and hard drives,” he said. “ Before closing the door, I poured some of my garden’s soil into a bottle and took it with me. When I arrived at Silo Road, I noticed there were no government forces or police officers in the city.” The government had abandoned Kabul.
Massoud had never before seen Kabul airport as crowded and gloomy. A large crowd of Afghans and foreigners was trying to leave. “As I was waiting for my flight, I saw one of my women’s rights activist friends,” he said. “She was staring at something and sobbing quietly.”
Massoud decided to share his grief with her and allow her to do the same.
“I walked toward her. I saw fear and despair on her face. I hugged her, without even realizing that it is forbidden, and wept.” Massoud and his friend exchanged no words.
“Something was squeezing my throat from inside,” he said. “I believe hers too.”
Boarding started, and Massoud took one last look at his city and entered the airplane.
When he arrived in Istanbul, Massoud quickly connected to the internet and read the news that had occurred while he was in the air. “There could not be scarier news than that: Kabul has fallen.”
Massoud is in the Netherlands now and travels from one city to another, hoping to find somewhere he can call home. “Sometimes I write, sometimes I go through the photos I captured from Kabul, and some other times, I check on my journalist friends,” said Massoud. Some of Massoud’s friends are in refugee camps, some are in Kabul waiting for a rescue flight, and others are in the West with an uncertain future. “ We were the group committed to making a change in Afghanistan through free media and documenting the events,” added Massoud as sighing.
Massoud was injured 11 times while capturing war and terror scenes. Also, he, along with some other journalists, was on the Taliban’s black-list. Yet, Massoud wanted to stare into the face of the war and depict its brutality. “I wish my work and photos could have prevented the fall of the country,” said Massoud.
“Wherever I go, I carry the small bottle of my garden’s soil with me, my homeland’s soil where I buried my mother and my friends there in the last 20 years. The soil where I buried my dreams for Afghanistan in before I leave it,” ended Massoud.