Kabul Kids

This picture stands out, incongruously, amongst images of landscapes, woodland, fields and rivers. I chose to include it as it reflects my own thoughts as I roam the forest. My work has taken me to many places across the world – villages, towns, cities, slums – and those encounters are with me as I roam the forest. Beyond this quiet landscape people face very different lives and challenges, many not of their own creation.

I encountered these children while filming in Kabul, Afghanistan’s capital, in March 1996. The bombed out buildings behind them tell a story of the decades long imperialist battles over this borderline state. The Russians had left, the Mujaheddin were temporarily in control. During my stay the soundtrack of my broken sleep was of missiles and guns outside the city. Six months later the Taliban swept in. The post-9/11 ‘war on terror’ signalled another phase as western troops took control, later to leave and hand back the country to the Taliban.

These four demanded to pose for the camera. Right next to a minefield we’d just traversed. They were so happy! Their picture has hung on our wall ever since and I think of them often. If they’ve survived they’re in their forties now. What are their stories? What have they been through in the intervening years?

The forest, the trees, and the annual rings recorded during their long lives remind me that all our anxious strivings come and go, disappearing like tears in the rain while the trees and the forest continue, and ask what we want to pass on to these children, our children, our childrens’ children?

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