Tennessee National Guard
KABUL, Afghanistan (4/26/12) -- “Ma’am!
Ma’am! Excuse me ma’am!” the little boy said to me as he ran alongside me on
the sidewalk.
Fellow members of the 230th Signal
Company and I were on our first mission outside the gates of Kandahar and
traveled to the one area where visiting with locals of the city was allowed.
I had no idea that my curiosity and my
camera would be the tools that bridged the gap between two cultures that day.
It was called the “Green Zone”, a small
stretch of sidewalk between two Army bases in Kabul. It was an interesting walk
down that short concrete path, and we met a variety of friendly locals, ranging
from small children to elderly grandparents - even a bomb-maker who swore he
changed his ways after his hands and eyesight became mangled from a premature
explosion, stopped by to say hello as a young boy led him around.
The small group of children soon became
large, they ran to us, and alongside us, all wanting to sell us bracelets they
had made from glass beads and colored thread. I hated to turn down their offers
but I had no cash to give.
“Come on ma’aaaaam,” the littlest
salesman said to me, disbelief in his tone. “Hook-a-brotha-up,” he said in
perfect English as he held out his hands and shrugged his shoulders.
Those words stopped me in my tracks and
I belted out a laugh; I couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth
and I knew instantly that Americans have influenced these kids more than we
knew.
“Where did you learn that?” I said
through tears of laughter.
“From my school,” he said and then
pointed to my jacket sleeve, “your pens, I need those for my school, may I have
them?”
I was hesitant for a moment, wondering
if he was telling the truth and what kind of weapon he might be able to make
from them. I always carry nice pens, taking pride in the ink that I put to
paper, knowing the words written with that ink may have the ability to change
things. It was a decision that lasted a few seconds in my head but in the end,
his manners won me over.
"OK," I said with a smile,
"but you must promise to go to school and teach others everything that you
learn, especially her." I said as I pointed to the small girl, flawlessly
beautiful and eyes bright, trying her best to keep up with the boys twice her
size.
He put his hand to his heart, nodded in
agreement and my heart almost melted.
My team and I continued our walk through
the “Green Zone”, now with an entourage of small children. Everyone that we
encountered stopped what they were doing to observe the camouflaged strangers
in their area and they were especially interested in my camera.
They were washing vehicles, cementing
crumbling walls, praying on their beautiful handmade rugs, it didn’t matter;
they stopped what they were doing. They all wanted to be photographed and I
happily obliged. I posed them, photographed them, and then watched the delight
on their faces as they saw their pictures appear on that 3 inch screen located
on the back of my camera.
It was such a simple thing that left us
in the midst of a special moment, where two worlds merged on that small strip
of sidewalk called the “Green Zone”.
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