The Death of My Brother
KANDAHAR, AFGHANISTAN: My brother Faiz was a truck driver. On the morning of December 9, 2001, his boss came to our house. He called Faiz and said: “Your truck is ready and full. You should drive to Pakistan today.” My brother said he would go at once. But when he walked out of our house my mother tried to stop him.
She ran out into the street and implored him not to go. “Please,” she said, “please don’t go! The road is so dangerous!”
Faiz tried to re-assure our mother: “Don’t worry mama, nothing will happen. Eight or ten trucks came in from Pakistan yesterday and the drivers said the road was clear. It’s not dangerous, believe me.”
Faiz said goodbye to our mother and he began the journey to Pakistan. My mother and I heard many explosions later that day. Military airplanes were dropping bombs around Kandahar and we were all very scared.
When my brother reached Ternak Pol he had to stop to change a flat tire. Tarnak Pol is an area about 45 kilometers away from Kandahar. There is a small town there, some farms and a bridge (pol means bridge in Pashto). While my brother was changing a tire in Tarnak Pol an airplane flew over him and bombed his truck.
Our neighbors found out that Faiz had been killed before we did. But they couldn’t tell us. They were sad and didn’t want to be the ones bringing us the bad news. Somebody else—a family member—would have to do it.
It was early in the morning during the month of Ramadan and we only had 20 minutes left to eat before the daily fasting started. Suddenly one of my cousins burst into the house. He was crying so hard that he couldn’t even tell us why he was crying. Then we understood that Faiz was dead and we all started to cry.
Many years have passed since that sorrowful day. My brother’s daughter, Heli Dost, is now 7-years-old and she is attending the second year of elementary school, while my brother’s wife, Farida, remarried with another one of my brothers. Life goes on but I miss my brother Faiz. He was kind to everyone and he was especially dear to me. But like the old proverb says, things that are good and beneficial don’t last.