I received a message signed “the son of Mohammad Faruk”. He says that his father passed away, he wants me to know and to thank for what we have done for him over so many years. Attach a phone number and the one with which the father was registered with us. Faruk is too common a name, I help myself with the medical record. Oh yes, I remember. Faruk had mental problems. He had been an officer in the Communist army until the mujahideen arrived in Kabul in 1992 and had to flee and hide in the village.
To save him, his father was forced to sell off part of the land, almost as a gift, to the local war squire. The family became impoverished, Faruk entered a state of sadness and apathy. As if that weren’t enough, he jumped on a mine and lost a leg. The sadness turned into deep depression. I met him when his wife brought him to us for a prosthesis. I was struck by how beautiful, elegant, regal they were. He, docile, carried out what was requested, she attentive and solicitous, ignoring the insistent gazes of the patients.
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I see them again, sitting on the sidelines, silent and a little haughty. They looked like movie stars in a break in the filming of a costume film. But it wasn’t a movie. Then of Faruk I remember the sudden appearances at our gate, confused and smiling. Left alone, he got lost and, instead of returning home, he showed up here. His son or wife came to pick him up, in great apprehension. Once they reported that he had been beaten for a fruit taken from a stall. We helped the family by putting him on the list of destitute and receiving food and firewood.
Faruk’s case was extreme, but anxiety and depression are common among our patients. Victims of mines, for example. They are mostly men between the ages of twenty and thirty, the age in which one marries, has children, earns for oneself and for her parents. Suddenly, perhaps forever, they lose everything, they depend on others, they see no future. Here there is no insurance, mutual assistance, social assistance. Getting by.
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Aren’t they valid reasons for despair? The same for many non-disabled people, especially women, often left to provide for the family alone. I wonder what it must be like to always live in a situation of violence, poverty and injustice, with the fear of getting sick and not being able to pay for treatment. And now also the fear of the new regime. Admirable how they manage to resist, carry on with dignity, smile. I will call Faruk’s son. I’m glad he remembered us, even if the anniversary is not one of joy. I want to believe that Faruk has gotten better.
The author is director of the International Red Cross Rehabilitation Program in Afghanistan
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