Publisher's Synopsis
Afghanistan is a country I can never entirely esteem, nor entirely forget
Memoirs, relegated to a closed page and a dusty vault, came alive through a melancholy across time and distance. In the aftermath of the 'wars on terror, ' I witnessed firsthand, the residue and physical 'terror of war.' Between obtaining a Doctorate and penning a wealth of intense memories, America announced their objective to withdraw its troops from Afghanistan. After decades of continuous conflict that decimated the Afghan nation, persistent rumours circulated about what might happen when the 'troops' left Afghanistan. As the Neo-Taliban surged towards the beautiful Panjshir Valley, my recollections of the people and places of Afghanistan played out in cinematic quality. Self-reflection necessitated organizing the elements of social comparisons, of what I had seen, and what I had learned. The insights I gained in Afghanistan, provide an alternative worldview through the lens of social justice principles. Subsequently, Professor Omarzad, a Professor from the University of Kabul requested urgent refugee assistance after shooters had stormed the campus, his emails articulated how he was relocating his family week by week to avoid the Neo-Taliban intelligence. The regime denounced and vilified academics who associated with Western philosophy, they alleged contemporary scholars promoted Western culture which obliviates Islamic art and cultural traditions. There was no reply to the application forms sent to the Australian Government Homes Affairs Department in Canberra. He accepted an arts residency in Italy, and eventually he, his wife and daughters were granted asylum in Germany. Supervening, the emotional reaction and assistance offered to the people of Ukraine, Western hypocrisy was exposed in terms of the global refugee crisis. This discrepancy compelled me to finalise my memoirs, distinguished through a unique lens reflecting on the Western occupation of Afghanistan subsequent to my personal contact and observations.
