William Vollmann - An Afghanistan Picture Show - Or, How I Saved the World

I purchased two cameras, three lenses and forty rolls of film, and proceeded into the foothills, via Pakistan.

W.T.V. (1982)

… “Today the opponents of peace and détente are trying to speculate on the events in Afghanistan. Mountains of lies are being built up around these events, and a shameless anti-Soviet campaign is being mounted. — What has really happened in Afghanistan?

“A revolution took place there in April 1978. *The Afghan people took their destiny into their hands and embarked on the road of independence and freedom. As it has always been in history, the forces of the past ganged up against the revolution. But from the very first days of the revolution it encountered an external aggression and rude interference from outside into their internal affairs. †

“Thousands and thousands of insurgents, armed and trained abroad, and whole armed units were sent into the territory of Afghanistan. In effect, imperialism, together with its accomplices, launched an undeclared war against revolutionary Afghanistan.

“Afghanistan persistently demanded an end to the aggression and that it be allowed to build its new life in peace. Resisting the internal aggression, the Afghan leadership, during the lifetime of President Taraki and then later, repeatedly asked the Soviet Union for assistance. On our part, we warned those concerned that if the aggression did not stop, we would not abandon the Afghan people at their time of trial. As is known, we stand by what we say.”

The Young Man’s sketch map of Afghanistan

Now, on our left we have AFGHANISTAN, which is to say RUSSIA, which is to say a hostile country, and up ahead of us, long before we could ever get clear and free to, for example, Polaris, we have CHINA, which is to say a neutral with its own problems, which is to say (in this instance) a hostile country; and on our right we have INDIA, which has got to be practical, as we all do, so here we have another hostile country, and behind us, as a reminder that not only people are hostile, is the Arabian Sea. (But everybody knows that all environments are hostile in the long run.) So the refugees from our side of Afghanistan tend to stay in Pakistan. A few have gone to Delhi, it is true, where they experience difficulties at the hands of those who want to be counted on the winning side. Some enter IRANthrough Baluchistan, but it is said that their ultimate situation is not happy. A very few (the rich, claim the ones who remain) are given asylum in the United States or the Federal Republic of Germany. There is much talk about going back to Afghanistan to fight, and an impressive number actually do it. And PAKISTAN, a country as gracious in spirit as it is poor, takes in all the others — who number more than three million.

Looking around us, then, we have quite a vista — a bit disheartening, maybe, but if there were no problems what would we do with the people who wanted to solve them? And — speak of the altruist! — I do believe that I can see our Young Man from America down there at this very moment, just dying to be of use, and wishing he could just die, for he has dysentery. ‡

Sketch maps have been furnished for your reference. A glossary of Pushto (or, if you prefer, Pashto, Pushtu, Pukhto or Pakhto) words and expressions has been omitted. Going in the summer is not advised on account of the heat.

The Young Man’s sketch map of Pakistan

* For those interested in teleological history, I have furnished a chronology of events from the Russian conquests in Kazakhstan in 1734 to the pullout of Soviet troops in 1989. It may be useful when reading the section entitled “A Matter of Politics.”

† It is no fault of Brezhnev’s that the translated syntax here reminds one of the ultimatum of the Japanese to MacArthur: “The outcome of the present combat has already been decided, and you are cornered to the doom … Dear Filipino soldiers! We repeat for the last!”

‡ Diagnosed in due time as Giardia lamblia and Rare entamoeba something-or-other (cysts indicated).

It was his first hour in the country. He picked up his luggage and went to the door marked EXIT. The customs officials stared after him sternly.

Immediately as he stepped outside he had the sense of being crowded by something. He stood there in the night until he could see, hearing patient, deferential breathings and rustlings of garments on either side of him. He saw that the sidewalk in front of the terminal had a low fence on his right and his left, like a slaughter chute. Pressed up against the fence were hundreds of men, calling out softly: “A nickel, please?” —“Taxi, sir?” —They awaited his pleasure. Step by step he traversed the protected space, trying to look straight ahead of him and hoping that he would see a sign directing him to official transportation of some kind. Fifty feet ahead, the railings ended at the street curb. The Pakistanis stood waiting for him. He was by himself; the other passengers, who were all native to the place, had been cleared quickly and had gone. He had never been to Asia before. What should he do? Would they rob him there in the dark when he came in among them? — He continued walking. Having worked for a year in a reinsurance firm to finance his visit to the battlefields (which were still a thousand miles away), he had drawn up and balanced out to zero a list of his assets and liabilities:

ASSETS

LIABILITIES

1. My what-the-hell attitude.

1. The same.

2. My meager need for comfort.

(Call this “stamina.”)

2. The steady decay of my immune system.

3. Lack of much hunger.

3. Lack of much money.

4. Prudence.

4. The same. (Call it “cowardice.”) TOTALS: 0 0

He concentrated on that first item, his what-the-hell attitude, and took his last few steps.

Once upon a time there was a Young Man who wanted to be more than he really was. This made him unhappy. He decided to go to Afghanistan and take pictures of the bullets whizzing past his ears. Unfortunately he had a stomach ache.

Once there was a Young Man who wanted to go to war. Unfortunately, no one would take him at first. — “Well,” he reflected in his hotel room, “it could have been worse. They could have taken me and gotten me killed.”