Saturday, August 27, 2022

Friendship Without Borders: Afghan Conversation 40

(NOTE: For the past year, I have been publishing letters or conversations from a young Afghan friend living in Helmand Province. I am protecting his identity for his safety and also the identity of a mutual friend who has been providing him and his family with some financial support.)

Dear David:

For the past year on days when life showed its dark side, with the suffering of my nation and feeling like my future has been stolen, the friendship I have with you and one other American friend I will call M has been like a merciful rain in the desert.

Our friendship has kept my desperate heart warm. 

I have learned a lot from you and M during this year. I have learned how to study and which books in English to read. In the process I have gotten to know some great writers. My English has improved a lot. And writing has become part of my own life.

I have also learned the true meaning of friendship. From the conversations we have had, I have formed a general picture of life in America, what the American people are like, and what American culture consists of. 

Most importantly, I have learned how kind friends can be. In Afghanistan, with our poverty and oppression, sometimes it is difficult for people to be as kind to each other as we should be.

So my friendship with the two of you is the mountain of hope that I rely on. Whenever my heart is heavy, and I want to complain about life here, there is no one to express those feelings to, except for you and M. The words I have heard from both of you have always been kind, heartwarming and encouraging. 

The financial help M. provides is like a jug of water for a thirsty person in the desert dying of thirst. It not only provides food for me and my family but also preserves honor and dignity to our lives. This help is vital to the economic crisis our family is experiencing. 

I do not know the exact definition of friendship in America. But what I am sure of is that your relationship with me is more than a friendship. It is more like a parental love that is unconditional. It has been something that I am deeply grateful for. 

I can't find any words that can express my gratitude for your kindness. What can be said is that if you have not been, I'm not sure if I would have gone through all those hard days alone, depression would have knocked me down, despair would nibble me like leprosy nibbles someone's flesh, hunger would force me and my family to disgrace ourselves by asking for loans, and my brothers and sister could not continue to go to school. 

Thank you!

***

NOTE: I normally do not publish my answers to my friend’s messages. But this time I will.

Thank you for your beautiful tribute to our friendship. Both M and I are very grateful to be your friend. I hope someday we can meet in person. I also hope our communications can serve as an inspiration for others. That is my hope — that Americans will not forget about Afghans.

TODAY’s LINKS:

LYRICS:

“Visions of Joanna”

Bob Dylan

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind

In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place

Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
How can I explain?
It's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn

Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower freeze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeez, I can't find my knees"
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel

The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Sayin', "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him"
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man?"
As she, herself, prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes ev'rything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain

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