An Engineer in Kabul

I had just graduated from residency. A freshly minted doctor with strong ideals and a conviction that the world could still be saved. I had volunteered at a refugee camp near the Afghan border. Thousands of destitute refugees had fled the Taliban and made their way to the mountainous regions of Pakistan. The conditions were brutal, it’s hard to imagine that they left so much worse behind. I would see things in that camp that scar me till this day. Disease, malnutrition, abject poverty. But I would also learn to see the beauty in things. The kids playing cricket on the field next to our makeshift hospital. The compassion and generosity that these people had was unbelievable. I remember an old man named Tahir who was there with his seven year old granddaughter. The rest of the family had been killed by the Taliban. He had experienced the worst of humanity yet he was still smiling through it all. I suppose faith is a powerful tool for those that have it. We would share a simple meal of chai and naan during which he would go on to tell me about his life. He had been an engineer in Kabul before the takeover. He told me that he had visited NYC back in the 80s. We would go on to discuss many topics, the details of which have faded as the years have passed. However, I will never forget his poise and sense of honor. Despite having lost everything, he held his head high with dignity and grace.