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The author in Afghanistan in 2002. She and her team had to catch a United Nations flight outside Afghanistan in order to deliver the video of her report back to the Philippines.
AUGUST 16, 2021
The author reporting from Afghanistan.
My producer, cameraman, and I almost lost our lives in a landmine explosion in Afghanistan in 2002. The trauma haunts me to this day: the deafening sound that suddenly rendered everything on mute, like on a gadget or a TV screen; the smell of burning petrol; the ripples of heat so accurately depicted in movies with explosions.
My cameraman Mannix Lazaro was only 10 feet away from where it exploded. I stil vividly remember hearing my producer Joy Madrigal calling “Move, move Mannix, move!”
My team and I were with the group Danish Deminers, who were working to rid the area around Bagram Air Base, just outside Kabul, from unexploded landmines.
Reporting from Afghanistan in 2002.
But that is not all there is to the Afghanistan I remember.
First, the people. On the streets of Kabul: one-legged beggars, handicapped by the landmines; a few faceless women covered up in their dull blue burqas; the wide-eyed children, smart beyond their years; and the men who liked to stare at intruders, especially women, even though Joy and I had our heads covered.
The ravages of war so clearly etched in the faces of the Afghans we met and interviewed. Our young, idealistic guide Qahir, who was clearly sad and angry for his country. There was smiling Khalid, who I met in Pakistan the year before, now back in Kabul but his family home in ruins. Young and not-so-young girls in school, happy and eager to learn, along with the boys and the men.
Scenes from Afghanistan in 2002.
I met two Filipinos in Kabul: our host Jessie Salazar, who worked with the United Nations, along with another lady.
There were several foreigners in the house where we stayed, mostly aid workers. They were all doing their bit to save Afghanistan.
This was about a year after 9/11. The Taliban had fled to the hills. The country had a semblance of a functioning government even if the Americans were clearly in control.
We had flown into Kabul from Pakistan, with a returning Afghan family hopeful about their future.
I remember one carefree afternoon we spent in Kabul’s “Chicken Street” for souvenirs: a rug, several blue vases from Herat, a green ceramic bowl, several lapis lazuli trinkets.
The author, center, with cameraman Mannix Lazaro and producer Joy Madrigal in Afghanistan in 2002.
The barber shop was full. The owner said the Taliban had required men to grow their hair and beards long.
The beauty salon was also busy. A woman about to get married dropped in for a last-minute manicure.
Bollywood music from India was playing in the sidewalk; things seemed upbeat then.
Hand-pulled ice cream, kebabs grilling in the sidewalk, the tiniest sweetest grapes, huge succulent melons, the best-looking eggplants. Our guide said Afghan soil is virgin and fertile, having known only war and no agriculture for decades.
At the arena where the Taliban used to execute people, there was a football game.
Veteran journalist Jessica Soho traveled to Afghanistan in 2002, months after American troops forced out the Taliban. This week, the Islamist group re-took control of the country, including its capital, Kabul.
