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Okay so here I go…

The little fella is home :) he has taken a few steps but I’m not sure if he’s fully walking just yet. He is off to Canada soon with his uncle and cousins. I’m happy for him. That kid is special. He has touched me deep within.  He really has.

I hope he grows up feeling loved and secure. I think that’s what’s most important. 

What the heck is Kabul doing??? Okay, not Kabul exactly.  But it’s crazy.

The past 24 hours have been mad. An MP is shot and a DM gets kidnapped from within Kabul city. Not the outskirts,  within!

I don’t have details but it’s sad.

Our little Abuzar is home. He has been discharged… wait. This story needs a post of its own!

Brb

Counting…

So, not long after the Serena attack, came the third presidential elections since the demise of the Taliban.

I should have blogged about this earlier but I was too busy tweeting and had jumped on the election bandwagon.  Its been a fun ride! 

The turnout was faaantastic. Absolute victory for the afghans.  The queueing at the polling stations was impressive, take a look:

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Impressive, ain’t it?! Make no mistake, the women also turned up in large numbers (their queues just weren’t as tidy as the men’s).

I don’t think I’ve ever seen such perfect lines.

Okay,  enough about lines, some of the votes have been counted and Abdullah has scored 41 percent with Ashraf Ghani not too far off. It’s still way too early to establish patterns, and doesn’t say much.

Mid-May is when the final count will be announced.  I am hoping we won’t go into a run-off, deep down I don’t think it will go as peacefully as the April elections did.

In any case, regardless of who wins, the afghans have won. People exercised their right to vote. Democracy has won. The taliban have lost.

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Uffffffffff….

The pictures from NBC… unbearable. 

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Abuzar Ahmad

Where do I begin?
What do I say?

Two years and ten months old.
dressed in his new clothes
At dinner with his family at the Serena.
Music fills the room.
It was New Year’s eve.
Laughing gleefully. 
Teasing his siblings.
Waiters hustling and bustling.
BANG
Men enter, pistols in hand
“Not my children” screams his mother
Fear
Confusion
BANG
BANG
That horrible sound
Everything blackens

Madar. His eyes open
Madar
Just a memory — nothing more.
Sweet memory

His tiny body so fragile
So weak
Where am I?
Madar

Faces. But not madar’s kind, loving face.
Abuzar. Abuzar.
They call him.

Heavy eyelids.
2 years, 10 months.
5 bullet holes

The nation, the world. Crying. Praying.
Abuzar, we are with you.

A nation’s hero.
A fighter.
A warrior.
At what cost?
At what price?

Father. Mother. Siblings.
A sweet memory.

——————

I just wanted to write bout that little boy who stole my heart. I wanted to keep it brief..

As a mother, I longed to hold him. To tell him he’s loved. It will be okay.  It will be okay.

As the story unfolded and Abuzar’s photos filled Facebook and Twitter.  I

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became more attached to this child. I felt an obligation to make sure he was okay.

I realised I was not alone. So many men and women felt the same. We all wanted to reach out.

A few days had passed and I felt a little better and not as emotional when seeing his pictures.  I followed his progress online wishing I was in kabul.

Watching the NBC report on Abuzar shattered every fibre of my being. Luckily my husband and my tot weren’t home. I watched the report and I heard him cry. Such a sorrowful cry. I broke. i cried. I cried and I cried. How dare they shoot at a child from such close range? Animals!

Now, the internet is filled with pictures of him and videos of him playing with his cousin. Smiling. Giggling.

A beautiful little soul. He has stolen our hearts.

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