The Afghan Peace Volunteers and Luke Nephew of The Peace Poets
Live from Kabul, October seventh, 2013
The 12th Anniversary of the United States War in Afghanistan.
Today,
As the war turns 12
Me and other Youth in Afghanistan worry we will not make it alive to visit our families for Eid,
As the war turns 12,
Women in Afghanistan are still sold and traded, beaten and degraded
we are still demanding our education… but over two thousand and five hundred
Afghan women have committed suicide so far in 2013
As the war turns 12,
Drone attacks still kill kids like they did my two classmates and my brother in law
Night raids terrify the people praying
For a chance to sleep through the night in peace
As the war turns 12, We, the young people are 75 percent of society,
But we struggle for basic education.
We are searching for a peace and unity we have never seen.
We want to design the future ourselves… because as the war turns 12
The US military says they should have total impunity for their crimes-
but We ask why!
Why do they think they should not be held responsible
As the war turns 12
We hope it will not be possible for the US to leave 9 permanent bases the way they want to
As the war turns 12, American people protest imperial violence
and demand their government stop this war, respect the human rights of everyone in Bagram and Guantanamo bay, WE say Salaam Alaykum, peace to all people, As the war turns 12:
The people of Afghanistan WANT
Enough peace to hear the music of their land,
the laughter of their children,
the sound of a man laying a brick to build a home that he can know is not
going to be destroyed
But war turns people into enemies
Schools into battlefields
Homes into badly built bomb shelters
War turns, us against, each other
But we turn, toward each other
to love all sisters and brothers
We will turn this war torn nation
Back into a place where we can dance
And that is our dream,
We are hoping
This war will never turn thirteen…
The sun has just set and we’re sitting in a circle on the floor. This is how we eat here. There’s ten men and five plates of food. Each plate shared by two hungry men. And tea. There is always tea. Tonight, dinner is good. We’re halfway through our five plates of potatoes and rice and baow. We freeze for two seconds. Baow, Baow. Two more shots ring out. The young men jump to their feet and away from the windows. Within two seconds they seem to be behind the thickest parts of the walls. Dr. Hakim and a few of the guys are still sitting. There is a ten seconds of silence. We all wait to see what will come. Just quiet. The sounds of the street. A carhorn. There is some hustle and bustle, someone running somewhere. Exhale. Faiz looks out the window. Doesn’t seem like anything he says.
They all laugh. Oh, you jumped! No you jumped! You we’re scared. They look at me and smile, “Luke, whats the matter you don’t like the potatoes?” I had switched over to tea. “They’re delicious”, I say. I’ll be back for more in a second. I was sitting there reflecting on how gunshots sound so different this far home. My galloping heart slows back down in my chest and I shake my head amazed at these young men who’ve lived through 12 years of constant war and so generous with their joy.