Feb 7, 2013

Communing With Grandpa

Communing With Grandpa

I was just thinking to myself about my children and grandchildren.

When I was 18, I was always criticizing my grandfather who made his youngest daughter marry a blind, disable man telling my mom "Mom, if my grandpa was still alive, I would chop him."

Now, I am the father of a daughter who is 9 years old. I am wondering how my daughter and her children would ask me when I am 65 years old. I am pretty sure that they would say "dad/grandpa the USA and its coalition flooded billions of dollar and the government at that time was identified as the most corrupt government of the world. You had, to some extent, a good and safe country.

Why didn't you and your friends do anything to make a better, safer and more prosperous country for us? Now we have nothing. You and your friends saturated yourself and didn't care about us. How are you going to answer all my questions? It is time for me to put forward my question.


How am I going to respond my grandchildren?

I am facebooking and writing this to you and doing nothing for them. Don't you think I should do something for them?

Please help me!!!!

Share it with your friends please. They may have something for me.

Feb 3, 2013

The Colors Have Come

The below is half of my newest short story translated by a friend. Remained half is going to be translated by the end of the week."


"The Colors Have Come
The world color came to the tribe’s minds when tribal population found dean’s cloth dotted. At that time, the tribe had another name whose contemporary meaning is “grief and loneliness”. That happened one hundred years after Great Father founded the tribe. Everyone was interested in knowing why dean’s cloth has been tainted. Taint/dot had different senses for them, but since they have heard in their ancient stories that “if you saw someone from the tribe whose cloth has been transformed, you shall know that his life has come to the end.” It was oversensitive for them. He would lose his life.

“What does transformation mean?” a girl asked herself the question who transformed dean’s white cloth. Getting up in the morning, the girl went straight to the room in which her father left two little goats for her to raise. The two goats had different ages; the smaller from one mother, the bigger from another.

Her mother took her from the room making her sleep in her bed for many nights. The goats became her friends and fellows. She talked to them, fed them, hiked with them and went back home with them. She dressed the goats.

For the first time, she found her goats’ cloths dotted. They were passing the river. The girl jumped. The river was the only dirty place. Other places were all clean. The small goat barely jumped but the slope of its cloth got dotted and some big dots were found on it. At the same time, the bigger goat bounced toward the smaller goat robbing its cloth to the smaller’s. They robbed and kept robbing until their cloths’ color was changed. The girl starred at them in wonder. “You shouldn’t make your cloths muddy.

Now your cloths are untouchable and they shall be burned.” She shouted.

As she intended to catch them, they ran away. She got amazed. She went after them they never run away from me. Maybe they are playing with me. She ran after them in hurry. The closer she approached them, the faster they ran and the more they got away. Her doubt turned to certainty; they were escaping from her.

All of a sudden, the smaller goat stopped. Maybe it thought that it was the girl who raised them. The girl slowed down and reached the smaller goat. The bigger one stopped too. A telepathy between two peers. She immediately embraced the smaller goat. She squeezed it and felt cold and warmth of the smaller goat. Suddenly, she trembled and kept the goat away. She looked at her cloth and found her cloth muddy. She got upset. Now how she could tell her mother that three cloths have become unclean and untouchable? Looking more meticulously at her and the goats, she found that their color has been transformed. What was this color? Was it a color at all or that was just a dot?

On the way back to home, she just sought for an answer for the question. Later one, the answer led to make dean’s cloth dotted.


Dean invited the girl’s father time and again. He told him “the power inside your daughter’s eyes kills me.” Took a deep breath and went ahead “make your daughter my wife. Your grandchild would be the next dean. Make your daughter my wife and enjoy prosperity as long as you are alive.”

After many begs and threats, the father made his daughter dean’s wife. In the first night of marriage, the girl already burned dean’s all cloths except one he had on. The dean came to the room and shut the door behind the daughter and himself. He walked slowly to the girl, sat on the mattress and starred at the girl. His lip corner bounced once a while due to oldness. He sneezed and looked at the girl smiling.

The more he approached the girl, the more the girl moved back. As the dean found the girl did not subdue, he prolonged his hand grabbing the girl’s sleeve. The girl slapped the dean’s hand throwing out. Dean just smiled. He snaked a bit to the girl, but she didn’t move this time.

“honey, why do you want to stay away?”

She didn’t reply. Heading down, she didn’t look at him.

“raise your head up and look at me. We have an important work tonight. You are supposed to give birth to next dean.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. Her temperature accelerated. She felt cold although she already swelled. Dean’s hand was heavier than her father’s. She would weep if her father was next to her.

Suddenly, she came up with the question for which he could not have found the answer yet. What  color would it be if dean’s cloth was mudded? She just intended to ask the dean, but she changed her mind. “Did you want to say something? Tell me, now you are dean’s wife.” Dean said.

The girl started speaking gradually. “just wanted…” she said moving on the mattress. She paused and suddenly came up with something. “I ask you not to spend our first night on the mattress.” She said.

Dean’s lip corner bounced. “Do you know somewhere better?” he said smiling.

“hmmm… I assume it is nice out there. What about next to the river and trees?”
Dean paused a while. Why there?

“Why there?”

“I have loved there since childhood. I want to spend first night with my child’s parents there.”

“Agree. Let’s go.” He said with a big smile.

They both headed and got there. Both sat and laid down. There were not distant from the river. “Do you know that we should not undress except there?” Dean said.

She spread her hairs on the grass. “Yes, I know.” She replied.

Dean pillared his hand around the girl’s shoulders. She could smell stinky and disgusting exhale when dean breathe out.

“you ready, honey?”

She nodded.

Dean started. The girl even did not ouch.

Feb 2, 2013

Letter to International Friends of Mine

Second Letter to International Friends of Mine

In my first letter to international friends I brought up few points such as building friendship with Afghans,
Today I would like to share some other imprtant points by which Afghans and internationals can have healthy and constructively positive relationship. One of the piont is that Afghan intellectuals believe that our international friends have a up-down view. In other words; when a foreigner talks and treats an Afghan, s/he has a up-down look, meaning that the international friend consider the Afghan peer as someone who lives in society less developed and less civilized land whom are a burden to international’s country.

They look at Afghans in a way that Afghans are reponsible for any evil things happening in their country and Afghan government is the source of all curses.

Please international friends, change your view and look at your Afghan peers, only if you do not want a hell is generated out of their wrath.

The second piont that I would like to piont out in this letter is that I have witnessed and heard that our international friends tease, mock and make fun of Afghan traditions, beliefs and even appearance. And it is disgusting.

Someday ago, I went to an international friend’s for volunteer purposes; translation, finding connection and some other stuff. In there, there were some other cool internatioanl friends. They already had fun before I came up. But, after a while, they began making fun of their Afghan friends(?) that they are such stupid, they are lazy guys, look at their primitive belifs and etc. and in order to get approval, they told me “isn’t it right, Basir?” “you are an open minded guy, Basir and you don’t give a piece of shit to such fucking ideas.”

Though I really don’t give a penny to destructive ideas and beliefs, even trygin to restrcture those ideas and beliefs to a constructive ones in the best possible ways, I pondered over such selfish behavior.

Come on, international friends. Change your idea; look at us in a more human-centered way and treat your Afghan colleagues better if you want to stay with them peacefully. No more up-down view, no more teasing each other’s ideas, beliefs, traditions, appearance and etc.

We love to be in touch with you; we love to have friends out of you; we love to build our homeland (the earth) together and enjoy our lives together.

I don’t review what I am saying in order to be pure and express what I feel, think and concern about.