Eric Stoner

March 2011 issue

Sojourners

This 9-year-old Afghan girl lost her left arm in a U.S. bombing. She now lives in a displaced persons camp outside Kabul.

In December, as the United States entered the 10th year of what President Obama called the “good war” in Afghanistan, I traveled to Kabul to take stock of the human toll of the increasingly bloody occupation.

From the moment I landed in Kabul’s airport, I noticed its distinctive smell — a unique mix of dust, smog, and burning wood. The poor air quality, I learned, is a direct result of the wars. In an attempt to quantify the damage done by air pollution, Afghan authorities recently announced that 3,000 people die every year in Kabul due to the poor air quality, making it a more effective killer of Afghans than the Taliban. War not only destroys people, but it poisons the earth itself, which leads to more deaths.

In Kabul, it’s clear that money was secured from somewhere to surround buildings on nearly every street with enormous concrete blast walls, sandbags, razor wire, and men with AK-47s — turning the city into a massive open-air prison. Someone decided that razor wire was a greater priority than paving roads, providing clean drinking water, or building a much-needed sewage system for the city. Ten years into the so-called “reconstruction” and even at a hotel that caters to internationals, electricity was spotty — going out multiple times a day, sometimes for hours at a time.

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December 16, 2010

Waging Nonviolence, Common Dreams, Counterpunch, Huffington Post, The Indypendent, Sojourners

Greetings from Afghanistan. I arrived here now almost a week ago and there is so much to share about this experience that it’s hard to know where to start. I’d like to offer a few random observations about Kabul that I’m sure will make more sense upon reflection.

I was immediately struck by the contrast between the incredible beauty of the landscape here and what humans have managed to do to this little piece of the Earth. On the flight in to Kabul International Airport, you have stunning views from the plane of the Hindu Kush mountains that surround the city.

Once you land, however, you are quickly made aware that something is terribly wrong. Rather than the usual airport scene, buzzing with tourists and commercial flights, you see UN helicopters, military aircraft and surprisingly few people.

After entering the dilapidated airport, which is tiny for Kabul’s rapidly growing population, I had to wait only several minutes before seeing my first AK-47. Little did I know how common they are in this city. Seemingly every hotel that caters to foreigners, every government building, many banks and other important building have at least one Afghan in camo with a menacing weapon guarding the entrance. Razor wire is everywhere. In many ways, the city has the feel of a prison.

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