No doubt President Joe Biden wants us to pay attention to something, anything, other than the colossal failure in his betrayal of Afghanistan. But for people like me who offered our lives for the mission in Afghanistan, we don’t forget — or forgive. It’s especially difficult for us to move on when we are continually bombarded with messages from our desperate Afghan friends. It’s an agonizing situation for nearly every Afghanistan veteran I know, making for tough days and sleepless nights.
One Afghan named Faisal worked for years as a security guard on a U.S. Army base in Afghanistan. Because he believed in the American promise of a better life for himself and his family, and because his country was betrayed and handed over to the Taliban, he is now a Taliban target.
Faisal often begins a series of messages to me with something like, “Hello, dear brother, good evening to Afghanistan, good morning to America.” There’s an 11.5 hour time difference between the two countries. He’s sent me pictures and videos of his wonderful family, along with voice messages in which, even now, he says he loves America. He fears for his life and has trouble feeding his family. It’s agonizing for me to be so helpless in the face of these messages.
And yet, amid sorrow and frustration, it’s important to look for any possible scrap of hope or humor. In the war, we laugh whenever we can. I can’t help but laugh at some of the messages Faisal sends me. He’s using a pretty terrible online Pashto-to-English translator.
He wrote, “I swear to God, pure, that you are my brother, I am your brother and mother, and I have no sister. … You are my friend and my friend.” That’s one complex family situation!
Back in the war, someone said the Afghan word for “friend” is “rafiq.” Years later, I was informed that “rafiq” is more like “comrade” in the Soviet sense. Hence, after I tried to call Faisal a friend in his language, he responded, through the translation software, “Comrade, we are not feeling well because of the grief of the wild beasts,” and then, “Thank you, comrade, may you always be happy with your file. I have no other choice.” My files are just fine. I’m sorry his wild beasts are upset.
Faisal wrote, “Comrade, I do not have a passport, and my children do not have a wife. It is not a problem.” There’s definitely some kind of problem.
Sometimes Faisal and I need to communicate ideas that require a level of accuracy the translation software can’t deliver. For those messages, we rely on Ikram, an Afghan living in California. But then Faisal says, “It is true that my dear brother Ikram has beaten you,” and “Hi, comrade Mobil, Ikram is a prisoner.” Don’t worry, faithful reader. Ikram has not beaten me. And he’s not a prisoner, but an electrical engineer.
The translation errors aren’t tears-in-my-eyes funny, but they offer a much-needed chuckle.
But, of course, the nightmare in Afghanistan is anything but funny, and sometimes Faisal’s meaning comes through clearly.
“Comrade, my family and I are trying to get out of Afghanistan. My children are very scared. I lost my job. It is difficult on all sides.”
And after a night when the sound of gunfire echoed through Faisal’s city, he sent me a picture of a dead Afghan boy, saying, “This child got the wild shell of the Taliban tonight.”
In some ways, it was easier being in the war in Afghanistan than suffering the aftermath of Biden’s betrayal. Years ago, the Taliban were on the run, my fellow soldiers and I had weapons to take care of problems, and our Afghan friends enjoyed peace and freedom. Now we’ve been rendered helpless, our weapons are in the hands of the Taliban, and our Afghan friends fear for their lives. Not much to laugh about. And so I appreciate, all the more, even accidental humor from bad translation software and my brave Afghan friend Faisal.
Trent Reedy served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan. Some names and call signs in this story may have been changed due to operational security or privacy concerns.
