He Was Afghanistan

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He Was Afghanistan

There was something as timeless and ageless as Afghanistan itself at the very core of him. He embodied all Afghanistan’s tribulations and sufferings, all her fierce pride and independence, all her faith and hope, all her courage and endurance. Like Afghanistan, he had faced hardship, disappointment, and failure. But also like Afghanistan, he had hard-won victories and glorious successes, bountiful blessings and triumphant conquests. Like his country, he had been laid low but not defeated. In the face of bitter foes with overwhelming strength, he found the inventiveness to change, adapt, and ultimately defeat his enemies. He was as strong, steadfast, enduring, and dangerous as the mountains he defended.

For Afghanistan, he became her Sisyphus. He pushed the same rock of freedom up the same mountain time after time only to have it roll down and force him to start again. His life was defined by getting that huge boulder up the hill, and he would continue to struggle with it no matter how weary he became nor how hopeless the goal of ever reaching the summit might seem. If getting the rock to the top of the mountain, if finally seeing his people free to determine their own destiny, took him all his life, he would never stop trying.

Massoud pleaded his case over and over again to the outside world. He patiently explained, exhorted, cautioned, and appealed for help. When help did not arrive, he found new words to advance the cause of his beloved country and went back to those who had listened politely but did not help, and again he elucidated, clarified, illustrated,and warned. When few listened and even fewer helped, he rallied his men with their aging, meager weapons, grasped the rock, and began to push it up the mountain one more time.

From Lion