Disclaimer

I make no pretension to an “objective” portrait of

Massoud. Those readers who wish to read an
academic or historical treatment, one balanced
between his adversaries and his admirers, will best
look elsewhere.
This is Massoud through the eyes of those who
knew him, many of whom had worked and fought
alongside him in the long Resistance. For those who
would care to know the many sides of such an
unusual man, this book is for them.
—Marcela Grad
Copyright © 2009, Marcela Grad
All rights reserved.

Photographs copyright © 2009, Hiromi Hagakura

Webistan Photo Agency 122, rue Haxo – 75019 Paris

Webster University Press

470 East Lockwood Avenue
St. Louis, MO 63119-3194

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.
Permissions may be sought directly from Webster University Press at the above
mailing address.

Library of Congress Control Number: on file

ISBN: 978-0-9821615-0-0

Printed in the United States of America

9 10 11 12 13 54321
 This book is dedicated to:

The memory of Sayed Omar Ali-Shah

All the Afghan men and women who gave their

lives to save Afghanistan

My parents, Juana and Pablo

My grandfather, Pedro Juarez, from Granada

 CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Foreword
Preface
Introduction
Chronology of Events

1 The Seeds Are Sown

2 The Beginning
3 One of Us
4 The Commander
5 My Way to Massoud
6 A Warrior’s Will
7 For Many Years to Come
8 To Lead a Nation
9 The Finer Things
10 A Kind Heart
11 Personal Impact
12 The Man and His Opponents

Image Gallery

13 In the Name of God

14 Room for All
15 Worth a Thousand Words
16 Kabul: Shadow of Victory
17 A Simple Life
18 The Panjshir
19 The Lighter Side
20 Afghan Spirit
21 Perfume of the Rose
22 The Second Dream
23 Beacon of Light

Epilogue
Appendixes
Contributors
Glossary
References
I have read many books about Massoud,
the hero of my homeland and of my heart,
but Marcela’s book has reached my soul
and it has brought memories of 23 years of friendship,
of happy and not so happy moments,
and of the difficult times we spent together.

The cruel hands of time destroy

many castles, many countries, many kings,
many assemblies of poor and rich, just and unjust.
But some beings with their stories remain
in the memory of the universe. And Massoud is one of them.

Marcela, I thank you in the name of Commander

Massoud and my own heart.
God bless you and bless those who publish your book
for the English-speaking readers.

Kabul, Afghanistan, June 18th, 2012

MASOOD KHALILI,
Afghan Ambassador in Spain and one of the
closest friends of Massoud
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My deepest gratitude . . .

First and foremost to God.

To Sayed Arif Ali-Shah, for his constant guidance. To all my Afghan

friends and those from all around the world who contributed to this
book, for sharing their hearts. To my friend Marilyn Bernhardt, for
her significant and substancial help editing and designing the book. To
my friends Arlette Croels-Decker and Don Decker, for calling and
inviting me to watch the documentary Massoud l’Afghan from
Christophe de Ponfilly, which inspired me to begin the journey to
Massoud. To my friend Eugenio Zanetti, for helping me find the
essence of Massoud’s story and for a lifetime of friendship and shared
subtleties. To Mary Strauss, for her support and for being an
inspiration.

To the Board of Directors at Webster University Press, especially

David Wilson, Dean of Arts and Sciences; Laura Rein, Dean of
University Library; and Don Conway-Long, Chair and Associate
Professor, for their kindness and warm support. To the staff at Reedy
Press, for their creativity in the final design of the book. To Matt
Heidenry (Reedy Press) and Eileen Condon (Webster University) for
their wonderful editing. To Hiromi Nagakura and Reza Deghati, for
allowing me to publish their inspiring photos of Massoud and the
Afghans.
Finally, to all my friends in two continents, for their patience, love,
and support, especially Reynold Akison, Isabelle Artus, Claude
Chauchet, Susan Diridoni, Marcelo Ferrero, Lilian Galdo, Aimée
Guillard, Michael Hely, Cornelia Kiss, Michele Mattei, Mosfeq
Rashid, Jan Skorstad, and Gloria del Solar.
 FOREWORD
When I was asked to read an early version of this work on Ahmad
Shah Massoud, I leapt at the chance to learn more about this Afghan
legend than I already knew: this Lion of Panjshir, anti-Soviet
mujahideen warrior, charismatic Tajik, and anti-Taliban leader
assassinated mere days before September 11, 2001. As an
anthropologist who teaches on the Middle East and North Africa, on
Islam, on masculinities and violence, I had been fascinated by the
person and legend of Massoud for years. Each time I saw him in video
footage or read about him in journalists’ accounts, I learned and
wondered: Who is this man? Other mujahideen leaders were mere
warriors, powerful, determined, but Massoud seemed somehow to be
different from the rest. Then, in the latter part of the 1990s, he
appeared to be the last bulwark against the hyper-reactionary Taliban,
holding out against their total control of Afghanistan after twenty
years of war to keep his nation free of despots of one form or another.
Then came his assassination. And the legend grew.
Years later, I was privileged to read this work by Marcela Grad.
Massoud is not a conventional academic tome; instead, it is a
meditation encompassing many voices from many places, an
intermingling of stories and memories from family, friends, comrades,
limning the often elusive character of a complex man. This work is the
result of listening to and transcribing voices, leaving the work of
interpretation to the reader. In that sense the author recedes to the
background, but the essence of her process of respecting the people
with whom she spoke, to whom she listened, remains. So the question
arises, can a work of memory such as this portray the “real”
Massoud? It is never easy to sum up a man after his death: Do we seek
an objective balance, do we focus on the good? Most religious
traditions talk of how a person lives on in the memories of those who
remain. In that sense, this meditation on Massoud is his legacy, his
presence among us, his continuing representation as leader, spiritual
figure, charismatic model.
I invite you to enter this work as a journey into Massoud’s world,
one not only bracketed by struggle and war, but also by the spiritual
traditions of the East, vibrantly alive in the Hindu Kush and Central
Asia. Much has been written on this fascinating part of the world,
drawing many observers from Europe and the United States, and
much has also been misrepresented. But this time Afghanistan is
portrayed through stories told by participants themselves, by Afghans
as well as visitors from afar, a dense tapestry of tales focusing on one
outstanding person, the man who provides the design. And as you
roam through these pages, you will inevitably be impressed by the
intense dedication of Massoud to the survival of an idea called
Afghanistan, where poetry and gardens once flourished, and where the
great religious traditions of the planet crossed paths. Massoud awaits
you.

—Don Conway-Long, February 2009, St. Louis

 PREFACE
My journey to Massoud began one afternoon in Los Angeles eight
years ago. A friend called to tell me that I had to see a documentary
about a warrior from Afghanistan, an enigmatic man called Ahmad
Shah Massoud. I had never heard of him, and for me Afghanistan was
simply another faraway place—a land of fairy tales and legends,
updated by horrible stories of the Soviet invasion and, more recently,
the Taliban nightmare. Then I saw Massoud on film.
From that moment on, I only remember his eyes, and the eyes of
his followers. Incredibly, this man, a commander who had fought the
Russians with furious bravery, was reading poetry to his soldiers. As I
continued to watch, I glimpsed the extreme sacrifices these Afghans
were making a world away from me in their remote Panjshir Valley,
and I learned something about the extraordinary resources of the
human soul.
Then and there I had the strong feeling that I wanted to know
more about Massoud and what made him do what he was doing. This
happened “in the heart,” as they say. It is my belief that such things
cannot be understood by the mind, so if you ask me why I decided to
write a book about this man, I could answer only, “I do not know,
but my heart knows.”
I learned that Massoud came from a thousand-year-old tradition
of rose gardens and storytellers, exquisite poetry, and ferocious wars.
In his world, people speak of the future by saying, “Inshallah” (if God
wills). Here was a similarity between his world and mine; we also say
this in my mother tongue of Spanish. But we do not use it with the
conviction and the insistence of Massoud and the Afghans. One
Western reporter used the words “soft as a Panjshir peach”* to
describe Massoud’s faith. I learned that this kind of softness in a
powerful warrior comes only from an illuminated heart.
The son of a middle-class family, Massoud could have continued
his studies at the French Lycée in Kabul and graduated an engineer, as
planned. But he heard the call, while still very young, to defend his
country and protect its values against foreign invaders. He fought the
Soviets and their brand of communism for fourteen years, from 1978
until the end of 1991. Soon afterwards, he found himself in brutal
battle once again. This time it was against the Taliban, Islamic
extremists whom Massoud described as “intolerant people, far from
God.”
Although an extremely able military leader, Massoud’s greatest
desire was for peace. However, he would not under any circumstances
sacrifice the freedom of his people or his country for it. So, like a
modern Sisyphus armed with his faith, his followers, and a demeanor
that was both sweet and tough by turns, he fought and fought again.
When he was assassinated on September 9, 2001, he was still fighting.
In retrospect, we can see that he was the only Afghan leader who,
during all those incredibly difficult years, always stayed with his
people, no matter what happened.
This book invites you to understand the life of a man, as told in
the words of his friends and companions. In searching for true sources
of information about Massoud’s life, I was put in touch with a
remarkable group of people, with many of whom I became friends
and in some cases almost family. Each of them urgently wanted to talk
about Massoud’s life, to laugh and cry, then talk some more about the
time they had spent with him—their leader and mentor whom they
called “father.” Every day, I was drawn more into their stories and
their world.
At the same time, I found myself facing towering problems in
trying to bring the real Massoud to life. How could I illuminate the
truth behind the emotions? How could I put Massoud into the
cultural and moral realm from which he came? Could I reveal the
secret roots of his inner search?
I started by researching, asking questions, and hearing hundreds of
stories. But when all had been assembled and recorded, I realized that
I had not yet captured the essence of the man. My intuition told me
that a certain elusive something was still missing. This is because the
actions people take are the result of everything they have ever done,
believed, or been taught, and because some key elements are complete
“secrets of the soul,” as the great Jalaluddin Rumi calls them, and
cannot be told. It may be that such secrets hold the key to why
Massoud was chosen to be a man of destiny.
This point is perfectly illustrated in Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane.
Kane’s famous last word, “Rosebud,” could only be understood in the
context of the man’s whole life, including certain secrets nobody else
could have known.
So how could I access the Rosebud in Massoud’s life? As often
happens, the best way seemed to be by analogy. I found the right one
in an old Sufi story about a man with an inexplicable life, which
features Khidr, the “green one” who is the hidden secret guide of the
seekers after truth and is also identified with the biblical Elijah. Khidr
appears at a crucial point in a person’s life to direct him or her onto
the right path. But there is a catch: no one who has met Khidr can
ever mention his name. Here is the story:

Once upon a time, there was a man named Utta. He had his life well
organized, had a good job, and everything seemed to be in the proper
place in his world. Then one day, while he was strolling along a river,
he saw a man drowning. Before he could do anything, another man
jumped into the water, and, unseen by the drowning man, became a
floating log. This “log” drifted up to the man, who embraced it and
was able to get safely to shore. Then it continued floating down the
river, and soon became the mysterious stranger again.
This can only be Khidr, thought Utta. Remembering that the
legend said one must take hold of the bottom of Khidr’s robe to keep
him from disappearing, Utta ran forward, grabbed the edge of the
robe, which was still wet, and pleaded, “Please, please teach me!”
The man looked at him for a moment, then smiled, and said,
“Very well. Leave everything behind—work, family, and friends—and
meet me tomorrow at this very spot at this very hour.”
Utta went back to his village and did as Khidr had instructed.
Everybody thought he had gone mad, but he couldn’t explain. He
couldn’t even mention Khidr’s name, remember? The next day, when
he presented himself, the green one said, “Now, jump into the river.”
“But I cannot swim,” exclaimed Utta.
“You must obey without thinking,” said the mysterious one.
So Utta jumped in and had begun to drown when a fisherman
happened to rescue him. He was an illiterate man who immediately
understood that Utta was educated. “I’ll make a deal with you,” said
the fisherman. “You teach me to read, and I’ll provide you with room
and board.”
Utta remained with the fisherman for a year, learning all kinds of
things about fishing. Then one day at dawn, Khidr appeared at the
foot of his bed and, pointing to the road outside said, “Leave
immediately and take that road.”
Accustomed to the simplicity of his instructions by now, Utta did
as ordered. Soon he became lost. At a crossroads he met a shepherd.
After finding out that Utta had no particular purpose or destination,
the shepherd proposed that they could work together. Utta spent a
year with him and learned many things about sheep and wool. Then
Khidr appeared again and ordered him to leave everything behind and
go to Bokhara to become a green grocer.
Utta lived in Bokhara for several years, becoming successful as a
grocer, until one day Khidr appeared again. This time he said, “You
must leave everything behind and go to Samarkand to become a
carpet dealer.” Utta obeyed.
Several years passed, and he became a successful rug merchant.
Then a strange thing happened: people began to approach Utta,
asking him to teach them. People came from all over the world to see
him, and he became known as one of the important spiritual teachers
of his time.
Of course, when a great teacher appears, so do his biographers.
They came, wanting to know everything about Utta: with whom he
had studied and when and where. Utta agreed to tell them his story,
but since he was forbidden to speak the name of Khidr, he could not
mention the very thing that had been at the center of his development
and advancement. Instead, he repeated the bare facts: “I jumped in a
river, a fisherman saved me, I lived with him, fishing, for a year, then
I went down the road and met a shepherd who gave me housing in
exchange for my work with sheep. Then I left and went to Bokhara,
where I became a green grocer for several years. Finally, I came here,
where, as you can see, I sell rugs.”
But the bare facts of Utta’s life did not make much sense to the
biographers. They weren’t interesting or exciting. So they proceeded
to invent a biography—one which was more adequate, more uplifting,
and more becoming to such a great teacher.
 And here we are, trying to do the impossible, trying to tell the life
story of Massoud without the secret element.
What cannot be named can only be traced by the perfume it leaves
behind.
May that perfume reach your heart.

—Marcela Grad, February 2009, Los Angeles

 INTRODUCTION
Some knowledge of Afghan history is essential in order to understand
the stories of those who knew Massoud. So, by necessity, I discovered
that Afghanistan has a long, complex, and richly layered past. To me,
the most amazing information was that, although Afghanistan has
been invaded many, many times over the centuries, it has never been
truly subdued. Why? After hours of conversations with the Afghans, it
became clear to me that nothing can discourage these people for long
—not even a thousand years of invasions and war. Their spirit is
simply indomitable.
It is not necessary for the reader to become an expert on
Afghanistan, but knowledge of certain facts is essential as a
framework on which to “hang” the stories that will be shared in this
book. I have collected these basic facts into a thumbnail sketch, which
is offered here as a tool to assist you on this journey.
In the past, for information about events in Afghanistan we have
had to rely on the media, which, for all its positive aspects, has
packaged our knowledge into sound-bite-sized chunks or limited it to
the word count required by this column or that article. More
significant, the accounts have been most often written or reported by
“experts” not completely familiar with the Afghan cultural milieu.
These individuals have rarely spent more than a few weeks in the
country, and they have relied upon information supplied by
governments or factions with economic and political agendas to
promote. We have been denied the marrow of the bone, a situation
which I hope, in part, to remedy by this book.
 These extraordinary stories have never been told before in print in
this way—as a collection of memories recounted by the Afghan men
and women who actually lived them and those from other countries,
of East and West, who witnessed their struggle. They are a living
history of their own, and I believe they have something to teach us
about the depth of the human spirit and the abiding strength that can
come from it—things about which we seldom speak today. I have
found in the tales rare insight into a world I never imagined entering,
into the hearts of a people, and into the being of a man, Ahmad Shah
Massoud, whose stature has never been fully recognized here in the
West.
 CHRONOLOGY OF EVENTS
[Note: The Glossary at the end of this book offers additional information on
many people, places, organizations, and concepts that appear in the following
timeline and first-person accounts.]

1933 King Nadir Shah was assassinated, and his son, Mohammad
Zahir Shah, took the throne. Zahir Shah ruled for forty years.

September 2, 1953 Massoud was born of Tajik heritage in Jangalak, Panjshir

Valley. He was the son of Dost Mohammad, an army officer,
and Khurshaid (which means “sun”). Massoud was one of
seven children.

1964 As part of his effort to modernize the country, Shah convened

a jirga (council) of more than four hundred intellectual,
religious, and tribal leaders, and they created a constitution,
forming a government that supported more freedom and basic
rights for the people.
The People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA) was
formed. Backed by Soviet Russia, its goal was to establish a
communist form of government for Afghanistan.

1972–73 Massoud’s father was promoted several times, giving Massoud

the ability to obtain an excellent education. He was in the
second year of college when he joined the underground
movement and could not continue his studies at Kabul
Polytechnic Institute for Engineering and Architecture. While
studying in Kabul in 1972, he became involved in politics,
most notably the Muslim Youth Organization (Sazman-i
Jawanan-i Musalman). Massoud’s connection to this
underground movement brought him into contact with many
future resistance leaders, such as Burhanuddin Rabbani,
Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, and Abd al-Rabb Rasul Sayyaf. The
 Muslim Youth Organization was a student branch of the
Islamic Society of Afghanistan (Jamiat-i-Islami Afghanistan).

1973 A military coup ousted Zahir Shah. Mohammad Daoud was

named president and abolished the rule of the royal family.
Although earlier he had supported the PDPA, Daoud was
uneasy with its communist roots, and, as president, distanced
himself from the PDPA and Soviet Russia.

July 1975 In a coordinated revolt under Hekmatyar’s leadership (who

stayed in Peshawar), Massoud led the push against Daoud
Khan’s government in the Panjshir Valley. The revolt was
unsuccessful, and Massoud and other leaders fled to Pakistan.

1976 Rabbani and Hekmatyar developed different paths of

resistance for the Islamist movement, with the latter forming
the Hezb-i-Islami, with an extremist approach. Massoud
remained with Rabbani with the Jamiat-i-Islami Afghanistan.

1978 The PDPA assassinated Daoud and took over ruling power. Its
unpopular reforms and use of violence led to widespread
popular revolt. Massoud participated in one of the first
instances of revolt against the PDPA. The successful
insurrection occurred in the Nuristan Province in July of 1978,
and Massoud and other leaders determined that an open revolt
against the PDPA would be backed by the Afghan people.
Until this time, Afghanistan had been a popular tourist
destination for Europeans and other Westerners, beloved for
its beauty, hospitality, and rich cultural heritage. Many
travelers felt it was like no other place on earth and returned
time after time to partake of its exotic delights.

July 1979 Massoud returned to the Panjshir and, with the backing of the
people, rose up against the communist government. Massoud’s
forces were severely under-equipped and undermanned,
eventually leading to defeat. In addition to a leg injury,
Massoud emerged from the revolt with the belief that guerrilla
warfare was an essential tactic when fighting a better trained
and equipped army.

December 24, 1979 Soviet troops invaded Afghanistan to support continuation of

communist rule. They installed a Soviet-friendly communist
 government, with Babrak Karmal as president.
Resistance to the Soviets became increasingly organized
under various independent political leaders and commanders
from different ethnic groups.* Among the more prominent
were Commander Ahmad Shah Massoud (a Tajik, Jamiat-i-
Islami), Professor Burhanuddin Rabbani (also from Jamiat),
Ismael Khan (Tajik), Abdul Haq (Pashtun), Gulbuddin
Hekmatyar (a Pashtun, Hezb-i-Islami), and Sayed Jagran (Shia
[Arab] as leader of Hazara).
General Rashid Abdul Dostum (an Uzbek associated with
the Afghanistan Islamic and National Movement) served as a
general within the communist regime, although he later
changed his allegiance.

1980s The Soviet army became directly involved in the conflict

beginning in 1980 and invaded Afghanistan. Massoud
remained in the Panjshir and created a solid defense of the
region while organizing and perfecting guerrilla warfare. The
harsh terrain and determination of the people assisted
Massoud and his troops to fend off large Soviet forces time
and again in nine offensives from 1980 to 1985. Massoud’s
guerrilla tactics were very successful not only with disrupting
enemy supplies, communications, and logistics, but also with
territorial expansion. His military system influenced a number
of other mujahideen commanders.

1983 Massoud signed a cease-fire with the Soviets, which allowed

time for his army to regroup, to reel in greater political
support, to bolster resistance in other areas outside of
Panjshir, and to take advantage of the mineral wealth of the
area to finance his resistance. In July 1983, Massoud created a
Supervisory Council (Shura-e-Nezar). The council coordinated
130 mujahideen commanders from several provinces
(Badakhshan, Baghlan, Kapisa, Kunar, Kunduz, Laghman,
Parwan, and Takhar) of different ethnic groups in northern
Afghanistan.

1986 Dr. Mohammad Najibullah (PDPA) assumed leadership of the

government in Kabul.

1988 At the age of thirty-five, Massoud married Sediqa, the

daughter of Kaka Tajuddin, who was one of his close
companions. Massoud became the father of six: five daughters
 and a son. The family lived in secret locations inside
Afghanistan. Later on, after the takeover of Kabul by the
Taliban, the family spent some time in Tajikistan.

1989 Soviet troops withdrew from Afghanistan, leaving behind a

government of Dr. Najibullah and the Communist Party,
which the U.S.S.R. continued to support. The various
mujahideen commanders continued their resistance.
Massoud and his men were ambushed by Hekmatyar.
Although several of his main commanders were killed,
Massoud and his mujahideen escaped.

1991 The communist regime withdrew from Kabul.

1992 Massoud and his mujahideen entered Kabul. They formed an

interim government headed by Sebghatullah Mujadidi.
During the twelve-year war against the Soviets, close to 2
million Afghans had been killed (over 10 percent of the
population), another 6 million became refugees, and the
resources of the country, including many entire villages and
towns, were decimated. Large sections of Afghanistan were
left strewn with live mines.

April 1992 The Peshawar Accord was announced, which allowed a

sharing of power among the mujahideen factions. Hekmatyar
was not among those to sign the accord. The mujahideen
government formed with Professor Burhanuddin Rabbani as
president and Massoud as minister of defense.

1992–95 Mujahideen leader Hekmatyar declined the post of prime

minister in the new government and attacked Kabul with
Pakistani rockets and monetary support. Other mujahideen
factions, such as that of Abdul Rashid Dostum, entered into
various alliances and also attacked Kabul’s fledgling
government, backed by funds from Saudi Arabia and other
foreign countries.

1993 Massoud created the Cooperative Mohammad Ghazali

Culture Foundation (Bonyad-e Farhangi wa Ta’wani
Mohammad-e Ghazali), which gathered scientists, scholars,
authors, and artists and provided free medical services.
1993 Massoud resigned his position as defense minister as part of an
attempt to end the war with Hekmatyar.

1993–95 The foreign intervenors in Afghan power politics became

disillusioned with failure of their mujahideen to take Kabul
from the Rabbani government and began to transfer support,
money, and resources to a movement that included Afghan
religious extremists who had studied in madrassas (Islamic
religious schools) in Pakistan, and who called themselves the
Taliban, after religious students. With this support, the
Taliban grew quickly and achieved a number of military
victories resulting in their control of most of southern
Afghanistan.

1996 To prevent further destruction and civilian casualties,

Massoud withdrew the government’s troops and resources
from Kabul under heavy Taliban attack. On September 27,
1996, the Taliban entered Kabul.
Osama bin Laden moved back to Afghanistan, together
with his Al-Qaeda organization, and allied himself with the
Taliban.

1997 Mujahideen resistance led by Massoud regrouped in the

Panjshir Valley and began new military initiatives against the
Taliban, which was rapidly overtaking large sections of the
country.

1999–2001 Massoud helped found the United Front (short for United
Islamic Front for the Salvation of Afghanistan, also referred to
as the Northern Alliance, in the West and Pakistan) to battle
the growing power and dominance of the Taliban. The United
Front included diverse ethnic groups (Pashtun, Tajik, Usbek,
and Hazara). At times, the territory the United Front held was
reduced drastically by Taliban incursions, to perhaps as little
as 10 percent of Afghanistan.
During this period, the United Nations and most countries
continued to recognize the Rabbani government as the official
government of Afghanistan. Meanwhile, the Taliban leaders in
Kabul imposed increasingly punitive and vicious restrictions
upon ordinary Afghans, especially women. Amputations and
executions in the name of Islam became common.
2000 Massoud signed the Declaration of the Essential Rights of
Afghan Women in Dushambe, Tajikistan.

2001 Massoud embarked on a diplomatic mission to France and the

European Parliament to warn world leaders of the dangers
festering in Afghanistan, including the influence of Al-Qaeda
and Pakistan over the Taliban. Massoud became famous in
Europe and other parts of the world as “The Lion of
Panjshir.”

September 9, 2001 Massoud was assassinated by two Arab suicide bombers

posing as journalists. Although they had connections to Al-
Qaeda, the responsibility of that group has not been proven.

September 11, 2001 Al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial airliners,

crashing two into the towers of the World Trade Center in
New York City and the third into the Pentagon building in
Washington, D.C. The fourth plane crashed into a field near
Shanksville, Pennsylvania, when passengers and crew
attempted to wrest control from the hijackers. In all, 2,973
people were killed (in addition to the nineteen hijackers), and
twenty-four are missing and presumed dead.

October–December After Taliban leaders refused the demands of the United States
2001 to extradite Osama bin Laden, American and British military
struck suspected Taliban and Al-Qaeda targets in Afghanistan.
The coalition then supplied ground forces, which joined with
the United Front and other anti-Taliban groups to oust the
Taliban and its leaders from power in Afghanistan.

December 2001 Afghan factions met in Bonn, Germany, and formed an

interim government headed by Hamid Karzai.

2001 After Massoud’s death, Afghan president Hamid Karzai

named him “National Hero of Afghanistan.”

June 2002 An Afghan loya jirga (grand council) of 1,500 delegates,

including Mohammad Zahir Shah as well as women and other
minorities, confirmed formation of the transitional
government under Karzai, with nationwide elections taking
place in 2003.
2001 to present Afghan fighters, troops from a coalition of countries, and,
more recently, troops under NATO command have been
increasingly challenged by a persistent insurgency made up of
Afghan and foreign Taliban and Al-Qaeda members,
supported by weapons and funds from those organizations as
well as Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Iran, and other countries.
 “Heaven and earth contain me not,
but the heart of my faithful servant contains me.”
—Hadith of Shihaduddin Yahya Surawardi

The many voices that told me Massoud’s story are like

a choir, narrating hundreds of memories. Some are
very simple, just a gesture or a kind word, but all are
unforgettable moments to those who spent time with
him.

In 1983, for the first time, we went to the north of Panjshir. Two
hundred people went, and fifteen or twenty of them were old people.
There was only one horse—Massoud’s. We had to walk for two days,
and I remember he took turns with these older people on the horse.
They rode for awhile and then he rode for awhile.
On the way, we arrived at a city, Khost-i-Freng, whose people
were expecting Massoud but didn’t know what he looked like. As we
walked into the city, a man named Mohammad Shah Khan happened
to be riding the horse, and Massoud was holding the reins as if he
were a servant. The townspeople thought that the man on the horse
was Massoud, and everybody was shaking his hand. We were
laughing because we knew that he wasn’t. Mohammad Shah Khan
wanted to get off the horse, but Massoud shook his head: “No, it’s
your turn.”
(Sher Dil Qaderi)
 1

THE SEEDS ARE SOWN

One of Massoud’s interpreters, Mehraboudin

Masstan, had this to say about Massoud’s family
background:

The family came to the Panjshir Valley from Samarkand, during the time of
King Timur Shah, around 1780. One of Massoud’s ancestors was a local chief
—a notable that was respected for having rendered services to the kingdom. In
fact, he was decorated twice with special documents signed by the king. These
remained in the family for many years. Another of his ancestors was a hero in
the war against the British, and Massoud’s father was an officer in the army,
so his family is one of the valley’s most significant ones.

When the communists invaded the Panjshir, the Soviet troops and their
Afghan Army burned down the family home. Sadly, all their documents were
burned in that fire, but over time we came to realize that Massoud had
surpassed all of his ancestors.
Among all of the voices that spoke to me, those of his
family resounded strongly with longing and love:
Mohammad Yahya, his older brother; Maryam, his
sister and herself a heroine of the Resistance; Ahmad
Wali, his youngest brother; Ahmad Zia, another
brother and presently vice president of Afghanistan;
and others. They talked with fervor about a man they
not only loved as a brother but also respected deeply
as their leader.
Although their stories were told at many times and
places, they gave me the sense that Massoud’s
brothers and sisters had gathered together to speak of
him to me, and I have presented their tales in this way,
as a sharing of memories.

YAHYA. Our father was famous in the Panjshir Valley because our
grandfather was famous. He had a title, “khan,” which means
“noble,” and he was an army officer and a devout man.

AHMAD WALI. Some of the things my brother learned were from him
—how devout he was, going to the mosque five times a day to become
strong spiritually. We learned positive things from him. But as far as
Massoud’s military career, I don’t think that came from our father. He
did not want Massoud to be in the Resistance or to become a military
leader.
YAHYA. Our father was not a poet, but he had many books about
poetry. When we were in Herat, Kabul, or Panjshir, he gave us private
teachers of literature and religion, because Hafiz [Khwaja Shamsu-d-
Din Muhammad-i-Hafiz], Bedil [Abdul Qadir Bedil], and other poets
are part of our culture. A lot of poets and wise men used to come to
our house to speak about prayers and to make comments about poets
and poetry. So from childhood we became acquainted with all that.

MARYAM. My father had a large library at home, with many books

from Saadi, Bedil, Maulana [Jalaluddin Rumi], and many more. When
he wanted to rest, he always read the Memorials of the Saints, by
Farid Ud-Din Attar, a very interesting book about the Sufis. When you
learn about the life of a Sufi, you learn so much about real life.
Massoud asked Masood Khalili to read to him from the Memorials of
the Saints on the last night of his life.

I saw a child carrying a light,

I asked him where he had brought it from.
He put it out, and said:
‘Now you tell me where it is gone.’
—Hasran of Basra
(from Farid Ud-Din Attar, Memorials of the Saints; as
quoted in Idries Shah, The Way of the Sufi, page 227)

YAHYA. I remember one of our tutors was a mullah named Bismillah,

who was supposed to be teaching Massoud and me the Koran. He was
not teaching us but hitting us with a stick. We were in fifth grade.
After school, he used to come to teach us and to hit us. Very cruel
mullah.
One day, we were alone in the house. Mother was gone and father
was at his office. The mullah asked me to read the Koran. Massoud
was there, and suddenly he stood up and said, “Excuse me, I have to
go. My mother is calling me.” He went out and then called me:
“Mother wants to see you too.” The mullah was not happy: “When
you come back, bring two sticks.” Then Massoud yelled to the
mullah, “Leave this house now! We don’t want you to teach us
anymore!” And the mullah left.
I was a little scared because of my father. When he heard the story,
he was very angry. He called our mother, “You see, your children
have been very bad to our mullah.” So he got his belt out to punish
Massoud, but Massoud said, “Alright Father, I want to tell you
something, then you can hit me. First, the man is not teaching us, but
beating us. Second, he comes at five o’clock in the evening. Usually the
children watch soccer matches in the stadium at that time. We are
children. We want to watch these matches, and instead we are here
with a mullah that beats us!”
My father laughed and did not punish us. After that, the Mullah
Bismillah never came back. Many years later, in Pakistan, somebody
came and said, “A mullah is here to see you.” It was the same Mullah
Bismillah. After I asked him, “How are you?” I said, “You beat us,
remember?”

AHMAD WALI. But the main influence in Massoud’s life was our
mother, not our father. She was a very strong character. She was the
boss, and she was the one who made a strong impact on Massoud.
She was very sure of her principles. A woman of strong principles and
character.

MARYAM. Our mom had many special qualities. She did not go to
school, because in those times there were not many schools, especially
for women. Even if she never went to school, she taught herself to
write.
 In smaller cities in Afghanistan, when there was a family problem
between a man and woman, they went always to an older person in
the town, and this person would decide for them, would tell them
what to do. But, when there were problems close to the family in our
town in the Panjshir, our father went to our mother and asked her,
“What do you think? How can we solve it?” It was always our mom
helping our dad. The good ideas came from mom.

YAHYA. Here is a story about our mother. We were in ninth grade,

and my father promised that if we had good marks he would buy us a
gift, bachis. Everybody passed the exams with good marks, so I said to
my father, “Now you should do what you promised.” He was happy
because his children had done well. Then, my mother interrupted, “I
don’t like this. I told you many times to teach your children to do
things that are important in life.” I thought, now they are going to
make some excuse so we won’t get the gifts.
My father said, “What do you want? What should I teach my
children? They go to school; they got good grades.” And my mother
asked, “Can they ride a horse? Can they shoot a gun? Can they speak
in front of people? Can they go to the mosque and say something
relevant?” Father said, “What is the use of making the children do
that?” And she answered, “These things are important for mankind.
Their character should be built on these things. Education is not
enough.”
You see, in Afghanistan, using a gun is usual, it’s a symbol of
bravery, but for a woman to say such things was unbelievable.
Western countries have strong governments, and the police have the
responsibility to protect the lives of people. But our government has
always been weak. If you live in a village in Afghanistan, you have to
be careful with your life; you have to be able to defend yourself. It
happened in history, and it still does.
 When our mother died of cancer in 1977, I was talking with
Massoud in the Panjshir Valley and asked him, “Do you remember
what our mother used to tell our father?” He laughed, because she
was a very strong woman. She even predicted what was going to
happen to us, that we were going to have to take guns and go to the
mountains and ride horses.

MARYAM. I think Massoud was our mother’s favorite, because he was

brave, smart, and very responsible. He was helpful and understanding,
and he never misbehaved. He was like our mother’s right hand.
She never said anything to him about being a leader, but I heard
her saying that school was not the only important thing in his life.
“You have to learn other things. You have to learn how to walk in the
mountains, how to ride a horse, how to do handy work.” Ahmad Zia
answered, “Oh mom, you talk about that all the time. People will say
he is crazy, walking in the mountains. Do you want everybody saying
that we are crazy?” But Massoud had to be in the mountains all the
time. He learned to ride horses, to do handy work. He was always the
best, and he was always in the mountains.

Asia is a living body, and Afghanistan its heart

In the ruin of the heart lies the ruin of the body
So long as the heart is free, the body remains free
If not, it becomes a straw adrift in the wind.
—Mohammad Iqbal

So, Massoud grew up surrounded by his family and

friends, and he showed early signs of many of the gifts
that would guide and sustain him later in life.

MARYAM. When Massoud was young, my family had neighbors, a

man and a woman. The man was traveling on business. She was alone
with the kids, and his trip was long. One of her boys came to our
house looking for Ahmad Shah (everybody knew him by this name)
and the boy said, “My mom needs you.” He left everything he was
doing and went with the boy to their house.
The wife asked him to write a letter to her husband because she
could not write. She was very upset. She asked him to write, “I don’t
love you anymore. You don’t feel any responsibility for your family.”
I was there, and I could read what Ahmad Shah wrote. He wrote: “I
love you so much. I miss you. Please come back. Send us letters. I am
so worried. I hope everything is fine with you.”
The woman asked, “Ahmad Shah, are you finished?” And he said,
“Yes, I am finished.” And she was so happy that now her husband
could see how she hated him. She did not know that he had written
just the opposite. When the husband received the letter, in two days he
was back because it was a very lovely letter.
Back at home, our mother asked him what he did, and Ahmad
Shah said, “Oh my God. When ladies are unhappy, they are capable
of saying anything. But I understand her, and she is right. I did what I
think is the best for her and for him.” And it was the best, because the
husband came back, and they were very happy.
I have so many stories like that.

YAHYA. In the neighborhood, I remember that twenty or twenty-five

boys were under the “command” of Massoud. We lived very close to
a hill, and Massoud used to take them to the “mountain” and train
them. I remember the first day they played like a cowboy show.
Everybody had a “loaded” pistol and was hiding behind the big rocks.
They were shooting against each other, just playing. Who knew that
after this he would do the real thing in the mountains of the Panjshir
Valley?

AHMAD ZIA. In Kabul, as a teenager, my brother protected our

neighborhood. He did not allow the troublemakers from other
sections of the city to disturb ours. If there was a dispute among the
soccer players, it was Massoud who intervened, settled the problem,
and kept the peace. If there was an illogical or unreasonable person
who bothered people in the neighborhood, Massoud would talk to
him as the leader of the youngsters in Karte Parwan.

MARYAM. Ahmad Shah wanted to teach others everything he learned.

He felt not only responsible for his friends, he felt responsible for all
kids. We had a garage, and he asked our father, “Please, let me use the
garage. I want to do something with it.” Father gave him the garage.
Massoud found some tables and chairs, and he made the other
things himself. Then he was always going out and saying to the kids in
the streets, “Have you done your homework yet? This is not the time
to play.” He asked the teenagers and the younger ones to come into
the garage, and he helped them with mathematics. Every day he
taught them. He was sixteen years old.
Wali was four years old, and he learned everything just by being
around this classroom. He saw his brother teaching others, and he
learned. When Wali started school, he passed the exams and was so
good that they put him in second grade. So Massoud was a good
teacher, and that’s a good memory.

YAHYA. When he was young, he inquired about everything. When we

bought a radio, he opened it up. He wanted to know how it worked.
After that, every time our parents bought anything, we said, “Ahmad
Shah is going to open this up.”
When my father built a house in Karte Parwan, Massoud told him,
“I want to do all the electric lines.” This is very difficult because you
can get a shock, but he told me that the connections to all the lines
start in one place and then divide to others from there. He said, “Only
this one part is difficult for me. I will ask somebody to teach me how
it works.” And so he did. I think he was in ninth grade.

AHMAD ZIA. Massoud’s interest and attention at a young age to the

tenets of Islamic teachings strengthened his resistance and
commitment and made him bold and fearless.

YAHYA. Once when we were around eleven, fifteen or sixteen of us

boys went to a big farm in Karte Parwan and picked apples from the
trees. There were two farmers who saw us and came after us. We were
all running in a line and were afraid that the farmers would catch us
and punish us.
Suddenly, we heard a voice shouting, “Disperse! Disperse!” It was
Massoud. Everybody dispersed in different directions and the farmers
could not get us. I remembered later, when he had control over all
those commanders, that he had that kind of personality from the
beginning. . . .
 2

THE BEGINNING
Here we are, all of us: in a dream-caravan.
A caravan, but a dream—a dream, but a caravan.
And we know which are the dreams.
Therein lies the hope.
—Bahaudin Naqshband, El Shah

Massoud was always surrounded by his friends and

companions—long walks, green tea, prayers, and a
shared struggle. Masood Khalili was one of his closest
friends, with whom he spent a thousand and one
nights of poetry under the Afghan moon. These are his
recollections.
 THE FIRST TIME I MET HIM
I met my friend for the first time in 1978. In April, the communists
had thrown President Daoud from power and taken over. In October I
tried to travel through Pakistan to Afghanistan, but I got stuck there
for a week, and I met a few refugees who had just arrived. Mr.
Rabbani, of Jamiat-i-Islami, asked me to come and have dinner. There
I saw a young man, slim and bony with a hawkish nose. He looked
tall, but among twenty or so people he did not attract my attention. I
remembered only later his distinguished figure. He was sitting on the
floor with his chin on his knee, which we often do in Afghanistan.
This was at the beginning of the fighting, the beginning of everything,
and it was all new, to us and to him.
The next day, we both went to the market outside Peshawar to
find some equipment for him to take to Afghanistan, because he was
on his way to start his own military operation, although he was only
about twenty-five. We took a bus, and the driver forgot to put in
enough fuel, so we had to get out and take another bus, and we had
two hours’ ride. On the way we talked about many things, and I
realized that he was a sharp and energetic man who was very willing
to go into Afghanistan and fight; he was committed. We talked about
the past and the future. I was talking more, maybe because I was
older, but I found out later that listening was his habit.
We reached the market, and there was a narrow bazaar which we
entered as we were talking. We each had less than $120 at that time,
and we changed it into rupees. He asked if I could buy some grenades.
That made me realize that he was experienced—he knew something
about this—because a grenade was something new to me. I said, “Let
me think about this; it must be very dangerous.” I still remember, a
beautiful smile spread across his face, his upper teeth pressing into the
lower lip—I found out later that, too, was a habit—and he said gently,
“No, Khalili, it’s not dangerous.” Then he handed a grenade to me,
and for the first time I touched this weapon because of Commander
Massoud. We had something to eat, and he started talking more. On
the return from Peshawar, I remember he said he knew me from
before, because I used to recite poetry on Radio Afghanistan when I
was younger. Although I was young, somehow my voice was not so
bad, and Massoud was one of the boys who listened to the Radio
Afghanistan’s literary programs. When he told me he had listened,
especially to the Song of the Night, which was a mixture of poetry and
music, I said, “So you are interested in poetry?” and he said, “I am
very interested in poetry.”
We returned to Peshawar again later, and shortly afterwards I
went back to the United States to join my brother, who had lived there
for a long time, and my father, who was the ambassador to the United
States. I was not a fighter and did not become one. I was always at the
political level, but my friend became the Commander, a great man.
(Masood Khalili)

EVERYTHING STARTS WITH BISMILLAH

In 1980, I was married in a mosque in New York. My father, my
mother, my brother, and two kids were there, a typical wedding. My
wife did not even have a wedding gown, but we were in a hurry
because I had to get back to the Resistance movement against the
Soviets in Afghanistan.
Shortly afterwards, I went to Pakistan and my first question was,
“Where is Massoud?” At that time, his name was not very well
known. The media in London had written a little about him, and there
were one or two very short French documentaries. I finally found that
Massoud had left in 1979 for Afghanistan through the mountains of
Nuristan. It was the beginning of a very long road for him.
I made my way to Commander Massoud through the southern
part of Afghanistan close to Kabul and the Bagram base to the
Shamali plains and from there to the Panjshir Valley. At the time, I
had a toothache. Oh, that was a bad toothache! The pain of that
tooth was even more than the pain of the Soviets. I was cursing
myself: Why did you come with such a painful toothache? You are
wrong; you are stupid. All this cursing, but in the depths of my heart I
had something that was making me go to see this man.
I went into those mountains and I was so tired, and I felt like the
whole universe had sat on my tooth. I rested awhile and then went to
a beautiful valley called Abdarak. It was summer and the time of
mulberries. The weather was fantastic and the scenery in Afghanistan
was beautiful—the poorer you are in the valleys the richer you are in
their beauty. I took a nap, and my tooth was a little bit better, so I
went to see him.
There were five or six young men who came to welcome me and
said, “The Commander is waiting for you. He has waited for two
days. Which way did you come?” I told them how I had got stuck in a
fight between Jamiat-i-Islami and Hezb-i-Islami and I couldn’t move
for two days because of it. Gulbuddin Hekmatyar [Hezb-i-Islami’s
leader, whose troops battled rival mujahideen as well as communist
forces] dominated those areas, and because of them I got stuck. I was
so naive I said, “Why don’t you fix that? Why do you allow Hezb-i-
Islami?” Later on, I realized what a stupid question I had asked. It
was not like eating sweets; it was war!
I met Bismillah (“In the Name of God”) Khan, young, with a
yellowish face, green eyes, brown hair, and a nearly grown moustache.
He was a simple man, this Bismillah Khan who is now chief of staff of
the Afghan Army. I asked him, “Who are you?” And he said, “My
name is Bismillah.” I answered, “Good. Everything starts with
‘Bismillah.’” I found out that these people were serious, but they also
had sense of humor.
He said, “The Commander is in the mosque, come on.” I met the
Commander there. I saw his wonderful smile and his almond-shaped
eyes, high nose, and eyebrows that you could see from far away. He
had beautiful hair and looked very young, well-dressed, clean, and
polished, like coming from a dancing stage. He stood and opened his
arms and said, “It’s good you have arrived.” I said, “God bless you,”
and we began talking.
After a while, he told Bismillah Khan, “Masood has traveled for
seven days and it has been hot, so arrange for him to go somewhere
and take a shower.” Bismillah got me a nice clean towel and said,
“Let’s go,” and after ten minutes, “This is the garden of the father of
Commander Massoud.” I thought he was going to take me to a
bathroom to shower. It was evening and it was getting cold, but he
took me to a waterfall and said, “This is where you take your
shower.” I thought that it would be better to die, because it was
freezing, but he said, “This is the place Commander Massoud likes.
He doesn’t allow anybody else to come here, but he asked me to bring
you.” It was only later on that I realized, again, this was a war. It was
not a joke. You had to be practical.
 That night we went to a place called Astana. It was a beautiful
night, and we sat up talking until three in the morning. We talked
mostly about the future, about hope. Early the next morning, I wrote
in my diary that I found something in him very vivid, distinguished,
and strong: the hope he has for the liberation of Afghanistan. I wrote,
“He is on the move, and while he is watching the mighty power of the
Russians and their arsenal, he is planning how to defeat it with
commitment. Sometimes God provides the energy.” I think I wasn’t
wrong. Later on I wrote that not only I, but anybody, could predict
that this man would be a great man for his country.
That night we talked about how to reach the people of the world
and convince them that the Afghan people would stand whether they
helped or not. They would stand by their own will and would
continue the fight to victory, whether others wanted it or not. We
thought we could convince the world that it should help us, because
whether we won or not, we would stand. If you help us, we help
ourselves by your help and you help yourselves by helping us—that
was the theme of that night’s discussion, and he said they had a plan
to do it.
In the meantime, while he was talking I was looking for a kind of
discipline in him, because I thought, this man might not have
perseverance. You know, Afghans talk very well, they plan, but often
they don’t follow through. It is their nature. I wrote in my diary that I
told him, “You have a lot of experience, you have studied and read,
but you apply it on the ground, which is not easy to do. You also have
to have perseverance. If you don’t persevere, you may be very good
today, but what about tomorrow?” And he said, “A plan without
perseverance would be ruthless.”
In the early hours of the morning he said, “Would you mind if I
ask you something? I love to hear poetry. I feel a little bit shy to ask,
but would you read some poetry?” He was very humble and didn’t
want to embarrass me. So I said, “I love that! I love it, because
wherever I go part of me is poetry, and a part is politics. Politics
without poetry would be ruthless, and my poetry without my politics
would be fruitless.” And I read some poetry for him.
The night ended, but it was the beginning of my travels with
Commander Massoud. For a week we went from one part of the
valley to another. That was when I confirmed that he did have
initiative and a plan for the future, and that he had something else
even more important: the unfailing hope that he would reach his
goals.
(Masood Khalili)
Weep not, oh heart, Noah shall pilot thee,
And guide thine ark to the desired shore!
—Khwaja Shamsu-d-Din Muhammad-i-Hafiz

THE JOURNEY
We spent a week traveling together, and at the end of that time he said
that he would tell me a lot of things to keep in mind when I went to
Europe and Peshawar. “You mean that I should leave Afghanistan?” I
asked, and he said that it would be better for me to go back and forth
between Peshawar, the world, and Afghanistan. So for six months I
would go all over Afghanistan and then I would be six months out of
the country.
But mostly I was with him, and I enjoyed that. I felt I had a friend
now who was worthy to be a friend—to love, respect, work for, and
always, when I was far away, to remember. When you have such a
friend and you admire and love him, then indeed you have the
motivation to fight for the cause. That is the irresistible attraction of a
leader in whom you believe, with whom you hope. In his eyes you see
the freedom of your country, of your people, of your own home.
Then, especially when he is honest, pious, and believes in people and
in liberty, you become proud of him. And then, you go through the
mountains a hundred times and you don’t feel it. You go with your
heart and you don’t get tired. That is the magnetism of a leader who is
such a friend that you feel him as part of your own soul, your own
heart, your own hope.
At one point he said, “Now you are really going to travel.” I had
gone out before through Bagram, which was flatter, easier, but this
time he said, “Why don’t you go through Nuristan?” My wife is from
Nuristan, and he knew that, so I said, “I will do that.” And then he
suggested, “I will give you everything, like for a picnic,” and he
counted the things with his fingers: “I will give you some rice, a mule,
some salt, some cooking oil, and that will do it.” I said, “Well, that
won’t be any picnic,” but he insisted, “It will be a marvelous five-star
picnic.” To go by mule on a ten-day walk through Nuristan—with the
lowest mountain more than thirteen thousand feet high and the
highest nearly twenty thousand feet—was a five-star picnic!
It was my first trip into Nuristan from the Panjshir. It took us two
days to reach the bottom of Paryam, and it was my first experience
being at the bottom of mountains so high, so gigantic, so rocky, so
rough, but oh, so beautiful. Like Sophia Loren—so rough but so
beautiful when she was fifty years old.
The trip was bad that first time, and we were so exhausted that we
never cooked the rice. It was hard going—ten days, seven high
mountains, and then all the other mountains and valleys, so deep that
it’s cold in July. There is snow in those mountains, and people die
from lack of oxygen. Even the mule could not go well. It was so cold,
and we had very thin blankets, no heaters, nothing—just the rice of
the Commander that we could not cook, and the cooking oil of the
Commander that we could not use, and the mule of the Commander
that we had to feed. Indeed, what the Commander gave us was not the
rice, not the mule, not the cooking oil, but beautiful, sweet,
unforgettable memories.
On this road, there are high mountains and passes like Sim Pass
and the Kantiwa Mountains and many more—all mountains, no flat
areas. I remember once that it was very cold and it was twilight, and
they wanted me to lead the prayers. It was the first time for me, and
we couldn’t find a big enough rock where five of us could stand, and
we couldn’t find a flat area, so we were facing down towards the river
rather than towards God. Suddenly, I was staggering and fell down. I
said, “Hold on. Take your prayers back because your mullah is down
now.” And everybody started laughing, we were all laughing. They
were holding their stomachs, and they asked, “What was that you told
us?” I said again, “Bye, bye. I am just going down, I don’t know
where, but you take your prayers back; I was not a good mullah for
you.” When I see my friends, we remember that.
Unfortunately, before reaching the last mountain I fell off the
mule. I could not jump down—it was a little bit high—so I brought
the mule close to a rock, and I jumped onto the rock. But the stupid
mule of the Commander left me when I got my legs down and I fell.
Really, I was more stupid than that mule, and I hurt my backbone.
Hasham, who now is the council general in Uzbekistan, had them put
me over a flat piece of wood. They strapped me to the wood, and they
put the wood on the back of the mule and for two days they carried
me that way. Each and every movement gave me a big pain; I could
feel everything that came under that mule’s feet. Any small rock and I
thought, ah that was a rock. And I would talk to the mule, “Please.”
We had no use for the rice, no use for the cooking oil, but we used the
mule. And that’s what happened the first time I went to Afghanistan.
I wrote in my diary that this man Massoud is impressive,
convincing; he has got something. Whether you want it or not, you
like him. That something I described was with Massoud throughout
his life; it was in his character. Many people fought to the death in
Afghanistan under his command, and not just because he was a big
commander. Once you were with him, you always wanted to be with
him.
(Masood Khalili)
 3

ONE OF US
Oh rich man, if thou bring to God a hundred sacks of gold,
He will say, “Bring the Heart as a gift to My door:
Bring Me the Heart that is the Pole of the world
And the Soul of the soul of the soul of Adam!”
—Jalaluddin Rumi

There seemed to be an unusual closeness and love

between Massoud and his people. Massoud was the
leader but walked side by side with them. He
embodied their deepest longings, yet he was just one
more mujahid.
 A MULBERRY FEAST
We had been fighting for three or four days, and we arrived at a
village called Jangalak at twelve midnight. We were forty-three
people, and we thought, now they are going to catch a sheep, kill it,
and give us some food. At three a.m., they brought one glass of milk,
a piece of bread, and three or four containers of mulberries. The bread
and the milk were for Massoud, and the mulberries were for the rest
of us.
Massoud looked at the owner of the house and said, “Take the
bread and milk home; we will all eat mulberries.” So he didn’t eat the
bread and milk because it was just for him, not for all of us. We
would have been more than happy for him to take it, but he wouldn’t
do it. He said, “We are all at the same level here, in the same boat. If
you don’t eat bread, why should I?” So after three days, the first meal
we had was mulberries, and he sat there happy to eat mulberries with
us. And then we moved on to another village.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

MY HEAD UNDER HIS ARM

We took part in an operation in the Panjshir Valley in 1975 and we
were defeated. Then we had to retreat into the mountains, and it was
very dark. Those mountains are fourteen thousand feet high. When it
was too dark to continue, we had to stay at the top of the mountain.
We did not have enough clothes because we were coming from a
warm area, and I think I got sick with three or four others. We could
not get warm, but we could not move because of the enemy. Massoud
sat up all night, and he kept my head under his arm to keep me warm.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

LIKE THE SIMPLEST SOLDIER

In a crucial situation, Massoud always did the job himself. He showed
the way, and others followed. He could have done like other leaders
[when we left Kabul]—gone to the Panjshir and let the troops come
after him—but he always put himself at the level of the simplest
soldier. That was his greatness. He was the one who was in the front
line, closest to the enemy. Seeing Massoud in the front line with them
—his courage, his behavior—gave the soldiers courage for the times
when they were lacking ammunition or food or were exhausted.
In war, every soldier is looking for a leader. We had commanders
who directed the war from their homes, but they were always defeated
and the soldiers didn’t believe in them. Massoud was different.
(Haroun Mir)

HIS MEN
He trusted the men under his command and worked hard to maintain
their morale. He taught them ethics and piety more than military
issues, and he was kinder to them than a father, closer than a brother.
(Daoud Zulali)
 WATCHING OVER THE TROOPS
When I joined the mujahideen in the Panjshir, I was with a group of
thirteen mujahideen staying in a house. Dinner was served. When we
were finished, Massoud checked to make sure that everyone had
enough, and then we prepared to sleep. Massoud had a room in the
same building. It was cold, maybe December or January, and at ten or
eleven when we were sleeping, Massoud came around to make sure
that everybody had blankets and enough clothes to stay warm through
the night. I have never seen a commander checking on his people like
that.
(Mohammad Shuaib)

BENDING LOW
When we went to Andarab, we crossed a very high mountain. On the
way we passed through a village where the people understood that
their hero would be coming. They were waiting, and they all wanted
to shake hands with Massoud. One man approached Massoud to kiss
his hand, and Massoud said, “I am not a shah; don’t do that,” and he
shook the man’s hand instead.
Massoud had been riding a horse, but three hundred meters before
the village he got off the horse. Why? He said, “If I see the people of
the village from a higher place it would not be proper, not polite.” So
he walked, and he shook the hands of each villager, down to the last
one. If I were the commander, maybe I would shake hands with one
or two, but he shook hands with everyone in the village.
In Afghanistan when people greet somebody they bend forward,
out of respect. When the village people bent before Massoud, he bent
even lower than they did. He did it with everybody. It was surprising
to me. He was a famous hero, and the others were village people,
unknown people, but he showed respect to every one.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

NO WALL
They told me this story after Massoud’s assassination:
When he was building his house in the Panjshir, there was to be a
wall between his house and the house of the lady who was his
neighbor. And there was a willow tree that grew from the lady’s yard,
leaning on Massoud’s wall and preventing him from completing it.
He went to the lady and asked her, “Would you let me cut some
branches off your tree so I can straighten the wall and build it
higher?” The lady said, “No,” and this man, a commander and the
defense minister with all his power, he just came back disappointed
and didn’t do anything more about it.
(Farid Amin)

TOES STICKING OUT

A visitor came from Pakistan and brought Massoud a gift: a pair of
shoes. He took the gift, and he looked around. There was one of the
mujahideen who needed new shoes, and Massoud handed them to
him. You could see that Massoud’s toes were sticking out of his own
shoes. We asked Massoud, “Why did you give away those shoes when
you need new ones yourself?” He said, “Another visitor will bring me
shoes because I am the Commander. They always bring me something.
I can find shoes, but this man can’t.”
Many people would bring Massoud gifts, and he gave most of
them to people around him. He wanted to make sure that they had the
things they needed: enough food, enough clothes.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

THE ROOMMATE
When we had training, we all stayed in the same compound, and
sometimes we slept in the same room. While we were actually
training, Massoud was the trainer, but when we were in the house, he
was just a roommate. If we cooked, he cooked with us; if we washed
the dishes, he washed the dishes; when we cleaned the room, he
cleaned the room. Afterwards, when we would go to gather wood for
cooking, he would go with us. Even when we went to play baseball or
soccer, he played with us.
He was with us from 5 in the morning until almost 4 in the
afternoon, and then he would go to the city to work, to take care of
the business of the villages and the problems in his office. He would
work there until 2 or 3 in the morning, walk in the mountains, and
then sleep a few hours. While I was there, I heard that he did not sleep
more than four hours a night because he was always working.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

THE GUARDS’ LIST

The villages were under bombardment, and conditions were difficult.
During the night, 1 percent would stay awake to guard the rest, and
Massoud always said, “Wake me up, because I want to guard too.”
We did not agree with that, but we could not disobey his orders.
In the twenty-one years that I knew Massoud, I never saw him go
to sleep before midnight; he worked hard. We had twelve or fifteen
people on the guards’ list, and we always gave Massoud the turn at
the end of the list, closer to the morning. We told him, “You are tired.
We have enough people to be guards, so it is not necessary for you to
do this. You can sleep the whole night.” But he said, “No, I would
like to do it.” It was his habit in everything.
(Salih Registani)

THE LISTENER
If you had a problem, in your home or whatever, you would go to talk
to Massoud, and he would always listen. No matter whether it was a
kid or a hundred-year-old man, when people came to him, he listened.
He never said, “I am the leader, and this is your problem.” He took as
much time as you needed, and if you had a suggestion he would hear
that too. When he was walking and found a kid of eight or ten years
old he stopped; he never passed them by. If the child had some
question or idea he would listen. He encouraged that; he would say,
“It is a good idea. We should talk about it.” He was a real friend to
people. That made him different.
As long as I live, the memories are with me. I am one of the lucky
people who spent time with Massoud.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)
 I SAW HIS FACE
Massoud gave me a gun, but he said, “You do not think, and someday
a mine will blow you up.” The time came when the Russians
withdrew from the Panjshir and left mines in a place called Rokha.
The local people started to clean them out, and I remembered what
Massoud had said. Then, there was the mine under my feet.
I remember opening my eyes and Massoud was there. He came to
see me when they were going to cut my leg. I wasn’t feeling anything
at that time, but when I saw Massoud I suddenly felt all the pain and
started to cry. He said, “Take him to a hospital and I will be there
soon.”
They took me to a hospital in Malaspa. When I was on the
operating table, I saw Massoud’s face again, then I passed out. After
three days, when they gave me the news of the amputation of my leg,
Massoud came to my room. I looked at him and started to cry again.
He said, “Don’t worry, you will walk again.” He talked about fixing
the leg and other stories so I would focus on something else. While I
was recovering, I was very happy every time I woke up to find myself
looking into Massoud’s eyes.
(Commander Gul Haidar)

LIKE A KING
He had so much popularity in Afghanistan that he could have lived
like a king, but he chose not to. He washed his own clothes, even his
socks. He was as down to earth as he could be with people, to make
sure they understood that it was not about power, it was about
working for people, defending people. He would insist, “This is not
about ‘I am the commander, you are not; I am at the top, you are
not.’”
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

NOT WORTH IT
Massoud was somebody who never, for one second, wanted to lose
anybody. He tried his best to avoid casualties. He was the master of
that; whether it was a commander, a civilian, or a soldier, it didn’t
matter. To avoid casualties was the most important thing. The soldiers
and the commanders knew that.
So many times the commanders insisted that they wanted to carry
out a military operation, but Massoud would say no. The
commanders would say, “We can do this. If we have casualties, they
will be very minor.” But Massoud said, “It is not worth it.”
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

EVERY ONE
I remember after the first operation in which I took part in Farkhar, a
lot of young people had been killed. I saw that Massoud was very sad,
but he never cried, he never talked about it, and he was present at the
burial ceremony of every one of those young mujahideen.
(Daoud Mir)
“We walked back to the spot where we had met Massoud and found
him stretched out under a tree, having a nap. One of the Mujahedin
tiptoed up and gently covered him with a pattu.”
(Sandy Gall, Afghanistan: Agony of a Nation, London: The Bodley
Head, 1988, 177)
 4

THE COMMANDER
A soft breeze touches the purple flower.
My eyes weep a river of tears.
Today my gazelle is burning with grief.
Oh God, break the arm of the butcher.
—Khalilullah Khalili

There is an old Afghan saying that anyone who wants to conquer Afghanistan
should beware, because under every rock of every mountain lies a sleeping
lion. When Massoud was fighting the Soviets, they said, “And the lion is
Ahmad Shah Massoud.”
—Roger Plunk, The Wandering Peacemaker (Charlottesville, Va.: Hampton
Roads, 2000).

Most Westerners who have heard of Massoud think of

him as a man with an exceptional military mind, a
leader of troops, the victor in numerous battles against
long odds. All this is true, and yet there is a very great
deal more to be said and inferred. Despite the fact that
Massoud and the mujahideen were always under
attack and they seemed to be at the end of the world,
there was a certain silence in their midst where a
subtle presence was ever felt. Massoud was their
commander, but was it he they followed?
 ALL IN HIS MIND
Massoud’s vision, his military technique which operated successfully
against the Russians—we defeated the Russians nine times—he never
wrote it on paper; it was all in his mind. When we were fighting in a
place called Kalafgan, we were hiding, and we had three or four
factions with five or six commanders from each one, and every one of
them had thirty to fifty people under his command. Massoud
controlled the whole thing—three or four hundred people—and he
would tell them, “Go here and do this, do this, do this,” the actual
fighting. We were attacking and shooting rockets, and he was
directing us in detail: “Okay, rocket, shoot. Infantry, move. There is a
mine; don’t go there.”
Before he led the commanders and troops, he would study the area
from far away with binoculars, every place where there was a mine
and where not, what would help, how we would go. Then he would
walk you through it. No matter how much pressure was on you, he
walked you through so calmly, saying something like, “Okay, don’t
worry about it. Just walk a hundred yards and stay there.” He just
took you through like you were walking in the park. He never gave
you a piece of paper; it was all in his mind.
There was another operation where he had twenty-three radio
operators, all talking on their radios with him. He was working with
all of them at the same time. I have never seen a mind like his.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)
 TO BREAK THEIR WILL
He had a vision, how to get to the goal. During the times of the
Taliban, he knew he could not win militarily against both them and
Pakistan, but he was somehow giving us hope that we would do this,
we could do that. The way he explained it all to the commanders, he
had them thinking that maybe in two days we would seize all of
Afghanistan. But Massoud really wanted to break the will of the
enemy. Not to confront them face to face, but just to break their will.
That is what he did with the Russians as well as the Taliban.
So he was thinking ahead strategically, and he had a long vision.
The commanders knew that he was thinking that way, and they knew
he was doing his best to avoid casualties, to protect us. It was an
incredible relationship. That is why Massoud’s commanders and
followers were not there just to get paid. They were committed to the
cause, and they put all their trust in Massoud. It was a unique
relationship.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

THE MOMENT OF ADVANTAGE

One of Massoud’s talents was that when he made key decisions, he
made them at a time that would be to his advantage. He waited for a
particular moment to do something, and he knew that when he did it
at this time the outcome would be positive. He would never do
anything out of aggression or frustration, but was patient and acted
with logic, and always based on a study of the situation and the time.
For example, he took all his forces into the Panjshir Valley even
though he knew he was going to be surrounded. But then he waited,
saying, “Let me get all the enemy forces close to me.” He knew the
Taliban would mass all its army in one location, so when he struck he
would inflict major damage.
(Commander Bismillah Khan)

THE CHANGE
Whenever Massoud stayed for more than one or two days in a place,
the Russians would start bombing that area, showing how strong their
intelligence was. He sometimes hid himself and his group for a week
or two, even from the rest of his fighters, to divert the enemy’s
attention and to get away so he could pray and find a little solitude.
In his first appearance after he had been hiding for some days, a
drastic change would be visible in his face. His eyes would have a
sleepy look, his cheeks would be rosy, he would have a more humble
step, and would speak more softly.
(Daoud Zulali)

A DEAL WITH THE RUSSIANS

One of the most controversial things that Massoud did was to
negotiate a peace treaty with the Russians. He realized that the people
in the Panjshir were suffering and might not survive without a peace
treaty. He also wanted to organize resistance elsewhere in
Afghanistan, and a peace deal with the Russians would free him up to
plan even better for their defeat. He did not have this sort of dogma
that other commanders had: “No, I would never negotiate, I would
never discuss with the enemy.”
 He realized that in the real world it was actually a good solution to
the problems he was confronted with. He said, “It will take us a
couple of years, but right now we need some time to prepare, and
besides, the very people we are trying to protect are suffering. There is
no food, no shelter; we have to help them.”
So they made a peace treaty, and as a result the CIA did not trust
him again. They wanted someone who fought the Russians all the
time till they died, no matter what.
(Sebastian Junger)

STRATEGIC VISIT
Near a Russian base in the Panjshir, there was a Hezb commander
[short for Hekmatyar’s Hezb-i-Islami Party], and he was in contact
with the Russians. Massoud knew it and went to see him, showing his
connection with the man so the Russians thought this Hezb man was
playing it both ways. In fact, Massoud had no prior relationship with
him, but his visit stopped the game that commander was playing with
the Soviets.
(Farid Amin)

“We came upon a group of mujahideen. . . . Unusually for them, their

handshakes were limp and their expressions dejected. We heard later
that they had put up a poor performance the previous night . . . and
had received a tongue-lashing from Masud (sic). Indeed, he had
climbed in the dark to the scene of the action and personally taken
command. I had not seen him in this light before: he had struck me
more as a thinking general who stayed in the background.”
 (Sandy Gall, Behind Russian Lines: An Afghan Journal, London:
Sidgwick & Jackson Ltd., 1983, 84)

WHEN THE TALIBAN BROKE THROUGH

The first time that the Taliban got close to Kabul, they broke through
one of our defensive lines, and approximately a hundred Taliban
troops headed toward the city. There was panic among our soldiers.
Massoud received this information during the night, and he came
to Kabul with seven bodyguards. He had a Kalashnikov on his arm
and went right to the front line with his bodyguards to defend the city.
Some of the troops, the younger ones, were running from the lines,
but when they saw Massoud, they stopped and returned to their
fighting positions. That’s how Massoud stopped the fall of Kabul.
The Taliban was very determined and very well prepared to enter
Kabul, and they attacked several times. Every time Massoud came to
the front line himself and defended it.
(Haroun Mir)

WHAT WILL YOU ANSWER?

I remember there was a commander in the north who was behaving
badly towards people. Commander Massoud collected all the
information he had about it and then said to him, “You did this, this,
and this. You say that you believe in God and that you will die for
your religion, but you have done many wrong things. What will you
answer to your God?” The man began to cry. He was a major
commander, and he said, “I am guilty. I repent and I will stop doing
all those things.”
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

THE CHALKBOARD
One day I saw Massoud in the middle of this room that he had inside
of the mountain; at the end there was chalk and a blackboard. He was
reading books and walking back and forth, back and forth, putting
down marks: enemy, us, military strength, morale, resources, territory,
terrain, accessibility, foreign channel supplies, domestic channel
supplies. He put down all the positives and negatives so he could see
exactly where we stood.
In his mind, he divided the war into four stages. The first stage was
self-initiation—you mount the first resistance. You move from that to
strategic defense, then to strategic offense, and to national cohesion,
which is the entire nation coming together. In order to achieve the
final stage, you must work out the details at the beginning. You must
work on each stage and be able to guide your men by example—by
stories, by ethics, by teachings, by movements, by caring—all those
different elements.
(Haron Amin)

LOSING GROUND
We were in the Shamali Plains at one of the bases in 1996. Tony Davis
[an Australian journalist] asked Massoud, “Would you ever flee
Kabul?” Massoud said, “For me, the ground is not important. I know
my territory, and I know how to take it back. If I flee, it will be to
avoid harm to the people and, second, not to lose my fighters or my
guns.” You could see in his eyes, hear in his words, that he knew
exactly what terrain was in his hands, that there was no issue with
taking land or losing it. You knew that as long as he was there and
had the people to fight, he would take it back.
(Farid Amin)

AN INVISIBLE ENEMY
Guerrilla warfare is taking the war to the enemy; you don’t let them
bring the war to you. You organize and attack at point A. The enemy
tries to recapture point A, and you attack point B and point C so that
their resources are divided. If you lose point A, B, and C at the same
time, you withdraw your forces and what do you do? You attack
points D, E, F, G, and H, so the enemy thinks, “My God, I have an
enemy that is invisible and yet I keep losing people!”
Massoud mastered guerrilla warfare in the mountains of
Afghanistan. Nobody had done that before. When you are in flat land,
you have a certain ratio of the enemy resources versus yours. The
enemy has advantages: It has airplanes, helicopters, tanks, armored
personnel carriers, heavy artillery, battalions and platoons and
companies. What you do is, you attack the base from out of the
mountains, and then you move back into them.
Then, from these positions in the mountains what do you do?
Every hour or forty minutes, in no specific order, you shoot one
rocket so the enemy cannot sleep at night and during the day. The
enemy is not familiar with the territory, so you begin to play
psychological games.
 As the enemy goes up in the mountain to claim the high positions,
what do you do? Very simple; you go farther up. Up in these steep
valleys, the enemy does not have support. Tanks are not able to come
up, the enemy does not have armored personnel carriers, the heavy
weapons are not with them. Now it is the enemy with light weapons
and you with light weapons. If it is a hundred against thirty, you split
your team ten-ten-ten. Then the enemy of each of your groups is
thirty. You take it further, and you divide each ten into three-three-
four and the enemy of each becomes ten. Then you choose which of
the ten you want to shoot.
So you take the war to the enemy, and you do it for a long period
of time because it is your land. Your ancestors were born there and
you are going to stay there. Time is on your side, but the enemy wants
to finish right away. This is what Massoud did.
(Haron Amin)

MESSAGE FROM PESHAWAR

Massoud told us, “Approximately a month after the Russian attacks,
while we were trying to re-establish our forces and restore the contacts
that had been disrupted, a messenger from the headquarters of the
mujahideen in Peshawar [Pakistan], the Islamic Unity of Mujahideen
of Afghanistan, brought us a letter which read:

According to central reports, the resistance of mujahideen in the Panjshir Valley has
been crushed and all areas have come under Russian control. Since resistance has
ceased there, the Islamic Unity of Mujahideen of Afghanistan can no longer send aid
to the Panjshir Front.
 With a smile on his face, Massoud had said at that time, “When
we started this path, we asked our God for help. We took this task up
for His sake. We will see what God Almighty does about this.” In a
very short but extremely hard period he restructured his forces,
proved himself a most powerful military force, and expanded his
territory beyond the Panjshir Valley to five other provinces.
(Daoud Zulali)

THE THIRST
He was an extremely good commander, and he read—he knew his
stuff. Once, I brought Massoud a book from a Swiss commander
about guerrilla warfare, and he asked me to bring him other books. I
would bring him books about the American Revolution and how the
American soldiers conducted their guerrilla warfare against the
British. He did not care if something was in English, French, or
another language. He would try to read it or ask somebody to
translate it. He had an incredible thirst for knowledge.
(Edward Girardet)

TWO DIFFERENT WARS

Many commanders would constantly go to Peshawar. Some would
spend the winters in Peshawar to get weapons and meet with party
headquarters and leaders. That is something that Massoud never did.
He made a conscious decision not to go to Peshawar. He fought a
twenty-four-hour war, and that did not give him the time or the
luxury to take holidays in Pakistan, where he knew he would have to
deal with the schemes and manipulations of the Pakistani military
intelligence.
There were two conflicting visions of how the war was to be
fought. One was a vision from the Pakistanis, who saw it as a war
against the Soviet Union in which Afghans, mostly the Pashtuns,
would implement actions which would favor Pakistan. The other was
the national vision of Massoud—of an independent center of
command in Afghanistan. Nobody else was doing that. The question
in his mind, and he was a pragmatist, was whether the war was going
to be run by Pakistanis or by Afghans. He was fighting a war on two
fronts: the war against the Russians and a cold war with the ISI
[Pakistan’s agency for intelligence and covert action].
(Anthony Davis)

ALONE IN THE GARDEN . . .

When Massoud had to make a very important decision he would give
me a letter that said: “If anyone comes to meet me, please let them
know that I will be unable to see anyone today, without exception,
because I have to be alone.” Afterwards I would see him in the garden
at his house walking and thinking, thinking and walking.
(Haroun Mir)

CAN YOU PLAY CHESS?

Before I met Massoud the first time, I knew he loved to play chess, so
I brought a small chessboard for him. When I gave him the gift, I saw
in his eyes that he was happy. He looked at me and said, “Can you
play chess?” Then he tried to beat me psychologically even before we
started.
He said, “It is a nice chessboard, but I don’t know if you can really
play chess with me,” to make me believe that I was the weaker player.
He did the same thing with the Soviets.
(Reza Deghati)

WAR GAME
He was an excellent chess player, and chess is a great school of war
because you are dispassionate. You do not blame the chess pieces for
acting the way they do, you accept the terrible limitations, and you
can see abstract patterns very clearly. That was the way Massoud’s
mind worked. It’s my conclusion from the way we played together. He
always had a portable chess set with him.
(Professor Michael Barry)

THE COMMANDERS SAID NO

In the Khylab Valley in 1985, we were around 120 mujahideen. When
the Russian forces heard that Massoud had begun serious activities in
that valley, before he attacked any garrison or force of theirs, they
decided to attack us. Their bombardment in our valley was very
heavy, and we could not continue our training. Then they surrounded
us.
During the night, Massoud asked us, “What should we do? Should
we continue to fight?” Some commanders said we had to continue,
and some said we had to leave. Massoud decided to continue one
more day. There was more serious fighting, and at the end of the day
Massoud asked us to see him again. We went, and he said, “The
situation is bad; we have to find a way out.”
There were no roads in the area, and there seemed no way to leave
the valley over the top of the mountain. We finally found a dangerous
way to leave—the only one—which was between two enemy posts.
The space between them was narrow, maybe fifty or a hundred
meters. We also had six or seven mujahideen wounded, and it was
impossible to bring them with us because their legs were broken, so
we hid them among the trees and left them food and water.
We had to cross the top of the mountain one by one, and we had
only three or four hours to do it. It was very slow because we had to
crawl touching the ground with our chests, and we had lots of
ammunition and material that might be seen or heard. Five hundred
meters away from the two posts, Massoud ordered us to form groups
of five. When he had organized ten or twenty groups, he ordered the
first group to go.
Everybody stopped and looked at Massoud. He asked, “Why are
you stopping? Who is the first group? Go.” One of the commanders
said, “We are not afraid to go, but what about you? You should go
first. This is a very dangerous plan. If somebody makes a mistake, we
will all have to stay here and maybe die. But you have to go because
you have to continue fighting. You are the leader; we are only the
mujahideen.”
But Massoud replied, “I order you to go, right now.” It was the
first time that nobody was ready to follow his command. He ordered
the commanders, and they said no. It was very difficult. Finally, after
ten minutes, Massoud got really angry and ordered, “Don’t waste
your time and don’t wait for me. I said the first group must move
now!”
 When we saw that Massoud was angry, the first group was upset
but began to move. Then everybody began to cross. People were
praying that no one would make a mistake. We were all shaky
because everybody was thinking about Massoud, and when we were
across, we stood and looked at the top of the mountain, waiting for
him to come. Nobody made a mistake, and Massoud was the last one
to cross.
(Salih Registani)

THEY NEVER LEARNED

One day Massoud was laughing, so I asked why. He answered,
“Because the first time the Russian Army attacked us, I knew only one
trick to stop them, and I used it and we won. The next time they
entered the valley, I used the same trick, and again I beat them. I used
it seven or eight times, but they never learned.” And it was true.
(Reza Deghati)

“There was a total of three destroyed tanks; Massoud thought they all
could be salvaged. One was stuck in an alleyway between two houses,
and the young commander said the passageway was too narrow for
them to drag it out. ‘Buy the houses, destroy them, and get it out,’
Massoud said. ‘Get two more tanks from Rostaq; that’s five. Paint
them like new and show them on the streets so people will see them.
Then the Taliban will think we’re getting help from another
country.’”
(Sebastian Junger, Fire, New York: Harper Collins, 2002)
 THE BEST NEWS
When I was working in Peshawar, part of my work was to get the
news from the mujahideen and give it to the media. We were getting
at least a hundred reports from commanders all over Afghanistan
about attacks and casualties, but we checked how reliable they were in
terms of the casualties of Russians, because the Afghans tend to
exaggerate. If it was one tank, they might say ten; if there were two
soldiers they might say two hundred.
When the information was coming from Massoud, we knew that
we didn’t have to check. We gave the news reports that came from
him directly to the BBC, Voice of America, Reuters, Associated Press,
local news agencies, and they all knew that Massoud did not
exaggerate. He didn’t try to add things, and he included the
weaknesses of himself and his group. We trusted him completely, and
the media did too.
(Mohammad Shuaib)

HE SPLIT THE SNAKE

Dr. Abdullah once told me this story: Massoud came out of a lecture
with the commanders, and he saw something that everybody else did
not. There was a snake, and in its mouth there was a bird. The snake
was about to eat the bird, and the bird was moving its wings trying to
escape. But the snake, looking at the bird, psychologically disabled it,
paralyzed it. When Massoud saw that, he asked a man for a gun, and
he aimed and split the snake with a single shot. To me, the snake was
the Taliban, the bird was the nation in agony, and the situation
required someone to deliver the blow.
 (Haron Amin)

HOW THE MUJAHIDEEN SHOULD LIVE

Massoud told the mujahideen, “If you have food, feed the prisoners
first and you eat later.” When I heard that he was giving those orders,
I said, “What a man! Who is this guy?” The mujahideen were hungry.
We didn’t have food for long periods because the operation was very
difficult, and he was telling his troops to give the small amount of
food that they had to the prisoners first? I saw that the mujahideen
accepted this, and I told myself that this was not the first time
because, except for me, no one was surprised.
I was a curious person, and I asked Massoud’s friends, “How can
you accept giving away food you need to live and to fight this
enemy?” They told me about other operations, similar stories. They
explained that this was the way the mujahideen should live, because
their goal was not just to kill, it was the liberation of our country, and
they knew that a lot of those young soldiers didn’t even know why
they were there. They were just sent by the Soviet Union and the
Afghans who supported them.
Because of this, Massoud had a huge reputation, not only in Kabul
but even in Russia. There are books written by former Soviets praising
him.
(Daoud Mir)

BEFORE GOD AND HISTORY

Gulbuddin Hekmatyar used to attack the Afghan people more often
than the Russians did. He committed atrocities all around the
Panjshir. During that time, Massoud told the villagers and the
mujahideen only to defend, not to attack. He said, “Don’t attack,
because if you attack and kill, I won’t be responsible as your
Commander. It is my obligation to tell you that. You will be
responsible before God, before the people, and before history, and you
will get your punishment.”
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)
 5

MY WAY TO MASSOUD
A thing which is not to be found—that is my desire . . .
—Jalaluddin Rumi
(R.A. Nicholson, ed., Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz,
Cambridge: University Press, 1952)

People from many different countries and political

persuasions felt compelled to visit Massoud once and
again, to talk with him and help him. Some of his
enemies turned around and joined him, a young
Afghan woman returned from exile to meet and work
with him, and even a nun decided to write a book
about him from the peaceful rooms of a convent in
distant Europe. Here are some of the stories of those
who were drawn to Massoud.
 ISLAMUDDIN
During the war against the Soviets, there was a soldier called
Islamuddin, a name given to him by the mujahideen. He was
originally captured during combat with the former Soviet Union, and
one night he went to the mujahideen, presented himself as a prisoner
of war, and joined them. He became a Muslim. For the first few
months, they were afraid of him; they thought he was from the KGB
and was trying to kill Massoud, but finally, they let this young
Russian become a mujahid. Later, he even became one of Massoud’s
bodyguards.
As a bodyguard, Islamuddin was armed and was always with
Massoud. That was amazing to me. When I saw him for the first time,
I couldn’t believe it, and I tried to talk with him. I asked him why he
was here, and he said, “Massoud gave me the choice to go back to the
Soviet Union, but I chose to stay.”
I asked Massoud’s friends, “How could you keep this Russian and
give him a Kalashnikov and let him be a bodyguard?” I even asked
Commander Massoud, but he just said, “Oh, that’s Islamuddin, an
old friend of mine.”
After a while, I also became friends with Islamuddin, and let me
tell you, that Russian had blue eyes and was blonde. In order to
become an Afghan, he dyed his hair darker, like the Afghans. He told
me, “Friends send me hair color from Kabul.” When I asked him why,
he replied, “Because I want to be like everyone else. I am tired of all
the journalists asking me about my background and every new person
wanting to know why I am here.”
Finally, after the liberation of Kabul in 1992, he went back to his
country. Massoud told him that he had to go back because his family
must be worried. When he went back to Russia, he told many people
that Massoud had treated him well, and that made a big impression
on the Russian soldiers. You could find the record of this guy in the
Russian books if I knew his Russian name, but I know only the name
they gave him, Islamuddin.
(Daoud Mir)

WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?

The people saw that Massoud was somebody who was their own,
natural. He talked about all the things that mattered to us; he had
some solutions, and he could see a little further. When I was in Kabul
I used to ask the people, “What’s the difference between the
commanders?” They would say, “Massoud is young, he is energetic,
and he knows more than anybody else.” They said that there was no
comparison.
I heard these things before even meeting him. Ordinary people
who happened to see him, they could tell you which one he was
because he would be walking very fast and carrying his own gun on
his shoulder. Others would say he was very kind. People were
impressed, so I was curious right from the beginning.
When the Soviets invaded Afghanistan I was at the University of
Medicine in Kabul. At that time I expected life would change for the
people of Afghanistan, but I wasn’t sure what I should do. Should I
leave the university and go to the Resistance front or continue my
studies? From the beginning, it was my feeling that I should be more
than a doctor. The only place that I thought to go was the Panjshir, to
meet Commander Massoud.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

WE HAD BRUNCH
I left Afghanistan when I was eleven years old because of the Russians,
and the first time I came back was in 1999. I made the trip because I
founded my own entity, Afghanistan Live On, to open schools for
women and girls, clinics, and other programs for women in
Afghanistan. Now we have five or six schools all around the country,
we have a little clinic and a women’s magazine called Rose, an Afghan
magazine with Afghan journalists, helped by Elle France. We have a
lot of projects.
The first time I met Massoud was when I came back. I was in
Tajikistan, and I wanted to go to Afghanistan and see what had
happened. I wanted to get inside because it would be the first time I
would be back in my country and the first time I would go into the
area of the Panjshir to tell the story that it was never conquered by the
enemy, but was free. Unfortunately, on the twelfth of July in that
summer the Taliban tried to attack the Panjshir. It was a hard period,
and Massoud was very busy on the front line.
I started with some schools. I went to the refugee camps, and I
talked with people there, and after three days I asked, “Why can’t I
meet Massoud?” [It was Massoud’s rule to see visitors only after three
days, so they could visit refugee camps, hospitals, and schools before
meeting him.] The people said, “Because he is at the front line.”
 I was the guest of Massoud’s family in Badharak, in his home with
his wife, who is now a good friend of mine. After three days I asked
his wife’s brother to call Massoud, because I wanted to see him before
leaving for Paris. He called, and Massoud said, “No, I am very
occupied in the front line. It’s good that she came to help the women,
but unfortunately I cannot see her.” So I took the phone.
At this time I didn’t know him, and I wasn’t a big fan like, “Wow,
Massoud!” For me he was a commander like other commanders. I
asked to meet him because if I wanted to come back, I needed to
know what he was doing for people, for women. He said, “I am so
sorry I can’t come. As you know we are at war.” And I replied, “Do
you think it’s easy for me to come from France, for thousands and
thousands of kilometers? And you can’t come fifty kilometers to meet
me?”
In the room where I spoke to him there were three or four men,
and all those men said, “Oh my God, don’t speak like that to the
Commander!” But Massoud must have thought, this girl is not afraid
and she speaks like a normal person to me, because he said, “Okay,
then. Tomorrow morning.”
We had brunch together in the morning. We talked, and I said, “I
am twenty-four years old, I have finished all my studies, and I want to
have my own organization. I want to help with women and schools.”
And I was very surprised when he said, “Of course. I want women
like you to come back and help women with clinics and schools.”
If I am trying to do a lot for my country today, it is because of my
first meeting with Massoud, because he was so open-minded. He
knew everything from all around the world. We talked for an hour,
and then he said, “Okay, then you will come back in two months with
help for the women.” In three months I came back with a little help
and some projects.
 He was not just a commander. We could speak about women’s
rights, schools, everything. Every time he saw me he said, “You are
very courageous. I think you are one of the women that I admire the
most.”
That’s what I am trying to explain to you. Sometimes people think
that Massoud was not open to women. If he was not open to women,
how could he have worked with a young woman who had grown up
in France and had come back like that? How could we have worked
together for years?
(Chekeba Hachemi)

EVERYTHING WAS AFGHANISTAN

I was trying to do a master’s degree in physics in France when I had
an opportunity to go for a month to Kabul. That’s when I met
Massoud. We had a conversation, and later on he gave me some small
work to do—I helped as a translator for a couple of journalists.
Slowly I became involved, and I forgot my studies in France. I lost
my residence there, my documents became outdated, and eventually I
stayed with Massoud from 1993 to 1998. Because of him, everything
became Afghanistan.
(Haroun Mir)

FOR ONE MAN

In 1980 I went to cover the war in Afghanistan. I felt the war, I
witnessed the war, but I couldn’t report very well to the people how I
felt.
 A year after that, I saw a report about Massoud. When I saw him
on TV, I was surprised that he was so young. When I was a student in
1975, I stayed a year in Afghanistan, and I thought, this country is
dominated by old men. The older people have very strong opinions,
and the young people cannot say anything.
So when I saw Massoud on film I was surprised that he was
young, and in that report they mentioned two or three thousand
mujahideen under his leadership. I went to Afghanistan in 1983
because I wanted to meet this young commander who was in the
middle of a war and was not afraid to die. This time I would go for
one man, not just to cover the war. A young man like Massoud . . .
maybe I could do some good reporting for the Japanese so they would
feel sympathy for this young leader, so I just went by myself.
In the beginning I went to Peshawar, and I spent more than a
month waiting. I met some mujahideen who came from the Panjshir. I
became friends with them, so they told me, “Okay, we’ll take you to
meet Massoud.” I traveled for twelve days to the Panjshir: I climbed
high mountains, and it was a terrible trip—no shelter, no food.
Sometimes we saw houses, but they were locked and nobody helped
us.
When I got to the Panjshir, I asked, “Where is Massoud?” The
Russians were trying hard to kill him, so it was dangerous for him,
but the people were funny. They said Massoud is there, maybe there,
you should go over there. They tried to help me, but when Massoud
was going somewhere he did not tell anybody, not even his driver.
Before departure, he would say to the driver, go there, or go to that
house, so nobody knew where he was going.
Finally people said he was at a certain house. I entered the room,
and there he was. But he was sleeping, taking a nap. I waited, and
when he woke up and saw me he was surprised because my clothes
were so dirty. I had only one change, and so I was very dirty after
crossing the mountains. My skin was also dark with dirt, and my face
was almost burned from the sun.
I started to talk in their language, not very well, but I could talk. I
said to him, “I want to stay with you, not just for a few days. I want
to stay as long as possible—two, three, four months—because I want
to report about you. Japanese people do not understand this war, but
if I report about you, people will understand.” I talked to him very
passionately. He told the person beside him, “He speaks Farsi,” and
was surprised, and after talking with me he said, “Tashakor [thank
you],” which meant that he accepted. And I stayed a hundred days
with him.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

MOUNTAINS AND DESERTS

Following the cease-fire of 1983 between the Resistance and the
Soviets, I walked for thirteen straight days through mountains and
deserts to join the Resistance front against the Soviet invaders in the
Panjshir Valley under the leadership of Massoud. I finally found the
one I was looking for, and I found thousands of others that shared my
feelings, gathered there from all corners of the country. I had planned
to stay with them for six months, but I stayed for almost six years.
Seeing Massoud for the first time with his men who just returned
from the front, I was confused. I wasn’t sure which one was him;
however, I noticed one among them who had a face more glowing,
eyes that were sharp and restless, a tall slim body. He had a forehead
with deep lines that I associate with profound thoughts and good
leadership qualities. My assumption turned into certainty as a mujahid
next to me pointed, saying, “That man of God is Amer Saheb
Massoud.” (Amer Saheb is an expression we use for a person devoted
to God and at the service of people.) After a brief introduction, I felt
as if Massoud and I had known each other for years. That was how he
was with everybody.
(Daoud Zulali)

THROUGH HIS EYES

The big event of my life was Massoud himself. I am not from the
Panjshir. I wasn’t a member of the Islamic parties. I had no contact
with the politics in Afghanistan because I left when I was very young.
I was just a young student in France.
One day some of my classmates at the university told me they were
going to have the first show on TV about the Afghan Resistance. I was
very interested. A journalist, Christophe de Ponfilly, for the first time
went clandestinely to Afghanistan. The French called it “Reportage on
Massoud in Panjshir Valley,” and the program was called “A Valley
Against an Empire.” The name sounded very good to me—the
Panjshir Valley against the Soviet empire.
On the program, I saw a young person called Ahmad Shah
Massoud. He was talking in a slow French to the journalist about how
he was sure that he was going to win the war against the Soviet
Union. At that time they were saying in the West that the Resistance
could not win. I became interested in knowing this man who was so
sure of himself and the mujahideen and the jihad.
The journalist asked him if he was afraid to be killed by the Red
Army, because it was a big army and he was alone, didn’t have any
support, etc. Massoud couldn’t think of the word for paradise in
French, so he said, “Never mind if I get killed; I will go to the garden
of God.” He translated the word paradise as “the garden of God.”
This man was so sure that if you are killed you are going to paradise,
he continued his combat and the Resistance!
So I saw Massoud for the first time in 1981 on that French TV
program. He attracted me in every way, and I said to myself, “I have
to meet this man at least once in my life.” It took me five years.
I had been out of Afghanistan. When the communists took power
my father was killed indirectly by the Communist Party, and my
family had all left, but I went back because this man impressed me
more than Afghanistan itself. I was attentive to his interviews, and one
day I just decided as a student to go to meet Massoud for a month in
the summer, because I wanted to look in his eyes and tell him, “Bravo,
congratulations!”
That was my initial contact, but when I was there everything
changed for me because of Massoud. For me he was a big brother, a
friend, a leader, and we became very close as he tried to make me
aware of the situation of my country, my religion, my culture. Because
of him I became very interested in Islam, in Afghan history, and in
Afghanistan’s multiethnic culture. All of this he taught me as a
teacher, step by step. Then one day, he sent me back as a
representative.
Massoud changed my life; I became a diplomat, a politician, for
him and for Afghanistan. And I think it is because of him that I love
my country, because I have seen Afghanistan through his eyes.
(Daoud Mir)

ON A WHITE HORSE
The very first time I met Massoud, in 1984, I was with Tony Davis,
who had met him before. We were walking with the mujahideen, the
sun was going down, and its light was reflected on the mountains.
Suddenly they all stopped. There was a commotion, and they said,
“Massoud is coming. You are very, very lucky.” And along came
Massoud on a white horse, like some kind of ancient knight.
He stopped and said hello and was incredibly cheerful. Then he
leaned down and looked straight at me and said: “Now, would you
like to have a ride on the horse? Why don’t I give the horse to you and
I will walk? Are you tired?”
It was weird. You have to understand that Massoud was very
much “the man”; everything revolved around him. I had planned for
six months to make this trip with Tony, and he had been telling me
that Massoud was the savior of Afghanistan, that there was no
guerrilla commander who could come close to him. When he turned
up in the late afternoon dusk with the light in pink rays reflecting off
the mountain, it was all just too much.
So I was completely taken aback and said, “No, no. I could not
dream of taking your horse. I am very happy to walk.” He said,
“Well, if you are sure, then I will meet you in Dasht-i-Rewat and we
will have a good chat,” and he disappeared into the distance. It was a
very romantic introduction, and the most memorable moment of my
life.
(Chris Hooke)

BEYOND PHYSICAL EXISTENCE

I think that each person has a mystic inside. A person is an economic
being because that person spends money, is a physical being because
that person eats, thinks so he is a psychological being, and meditates
so he is a metaphysical being. All these sides, and there are also
moments of inspiration that help us come together with ourselves.
One has to really search for that deeper level beyond physical
existence.
I noticed that each language has a core, certain things that are
fundamental to it. In Persian literature, it is the poets who laid this
foundation. Reading them, you begin to realize a sense of spirituality,
a sense of selflessness for the greater good, and it helps you look at life
from another perspective—not so much from the outside, not so much
just about caring about oneself, but beyond that. Then, I began to
better understand men like Massoud, who dedicate their lives to
advancing the human cause.
By the time I returned to Afghanistan, I had already thought about
this person who was greater than life. The foundation was laid, so
when I saw Massoud in person, I was able to connect him to the
values that I had read in Hafiz and Rumi.
(Haron Amin)

I CANNOT EXPLAIN
I didn’t direct myself to Afghanistan from Algeria, thousands of miles.
I hadn’t learned about Massoud before in school. How lucky I was
that God sent me from Algeria to the inside of Afghanistan, to this
man! How lucky I was that when I went to Peshawar I didn’t come
under the influence of Hekmatyar. I could have become part of the
Arab forces which fought with Hekmatyar against Massoud.
Even today, I feel that I have energy preserved from Massoud from
the first time I met him in 1984. In my political life, in my business
life, in my relationships, with my enemies and friends, Massoud is a
light and a resource of energy for me. There are many things inside my
heart that I cannot explain to you in an academic way; he is like an
energy in my life.
When I first met Massoud, I went not to live with him but to give
him a report about one of his commanders. When I saw him,
something happened in my heart, and I decided that this was my
place, that I was going to stay for the rest of my life with this man. I
decided that in the first minute I saw him.
I wasn’t a political or military expert or a businessman; I was
twenty-four years old, and I don’t know what Massoud had that made
me stay, but when I met him I felt this special situation. When I tried
to find the reason, I found only one: thank God for giving me this
opportunity.
(Abdullah Anas)

“A MEETING WITH MADAME MASSOUD”

“. . . [T]he protocol demanded us to quote only the first initial of her
forename, ‘S.’ But, apart from convention, the most important thing
remains the ever-present problem of the security of the family, prime
and permanent target of the enemy. . . . Therefore we were astonished
when the object of our interest opened the door herself. S__ is a pretty
young woman of twenty-nine years, with chestnut hair and green eyes,
to which six pregnancies have left a slight roundness. She has a beauty
spot above her lip and wears a lightly sequined, long, black dress. Her
heeled shoes reveal her lacquered toenails. In the rest of the country,
occupied by the Taliban, this would suffice to result in a flogging. . . .
 “For a short time now, the children—a boy of eleven years and
five girls of three-to-ten years—have lived with their mother at
Dushanbe, for their security, but also for that of the population. Only
during the holidays do they return to the valley. ‘When we are in
Tajikistan, their father is calmer, knowing that the people do not take
any risks because of us.’ . . .
“Unlike her husband, who is from Kabul, S__ was born in the
[Panjshir] valley, at Bozorak to be exact. Her father was a merchant in
one of the wooden stalls in the main street, which is still today lit with
paraffin lamps. She went to school with the youngsters of the village
until the invasion of the country by the Soviets. . . .
“The night is beginning to fall. . . . It is in this twilight that S__
begins to retell her life: In 1979, her father, Koko Tadjeddin, was one
of the first to support Massoud in the resistance. She is the third of
four children. Very rapidly, the family was flung from one hiding
place in the mountains to another, because Tadjeddin was following
the commander, whom his wife treated like a son, like a shadow.
“‘We walked for hours, with nothing to eat, under the bombs
which never ceased to fall. All my energies were taken up with
protecting my little brothers and sisters. We went from one hovel to
another, and when one could, one hung on to the tail of a donkey, in
order to avoid falling asleep “en route.” It was the life of all
Panjshiris, but since my father was fighting at the front, we were also
the prime target of the Russians. And because of spies, they always
knew exactly where we were.’ . . .
“‘One day, at the very beginning of the resistance, during a
bombardment, my aunt had commenced labour, her other baby with
her. My uncle had left to put my cousins in a shelter. A bomb fell on
my aunt. The next day, it was I who collected the remains of her
body. I was nine years old.’
 “Another time, S__’s mother and her children just had time to hide
in a hollow gap in the mountain, normally used by animals, when a
landslip blocked the entrance. Nobody thought there would be any
survivors. When they did get out, they could not stop counting
themselves, marvelling at their escape. Only S__ had been wounded on
that day. She will always carry a scar on her forehead. Her brother
Ahmad Shaed, a year younger than her, remembers the incredible
courage of his sister. One night, whilst listening to the sound of
ongoing combat, their pregnant mother asked the other women to
take guns and follow her to fight at the side of their men. . . . [And]
Ahmad Shaed says that he will never forget the vision of his sister, on
horseback, galloping at full speed under the bombs to rescue and hide
the children. . . .
“Sometimes, Massoud would appear in this valley of Parande,
with about sixty of his [m]ujahedeen. All the women and young girls
would set themselves to cooking around the two great casseroles.
‘Some of them had eaten nothing for days’, explained S__. ‘They killed
a sheep, thinking that these men would perhaps themselves be killed
the very next day. So we put all our energies into preparing a meal.’
“Massoud? Of course, he was her idol. As a trained engineer he
was full of compassion for all these children who did not even know
school. So when he had the time, he gathered them around the fire to
inform them a little of poetry and arithmetic. . . . He could have well
stayed unmarried, like a warrior monk. But it was necessary for him
to give an example. Contrary to the tradition which dictates that it is
the women of a family who make the approach to ask for a marriage,
Massoud went on his own to ask his trusted aide de camp for his
daughter, who was seventeen years [old] at that time. This was his
way to show his intimacy and friendship. A choice sometimes
criticized, even today, by his close relations who feel that she was not
sufficiently educated, but always willingly defended by Massoud, a
man obviously very attached to his wife.
“‘It is strange that I can still recollect with precision the scenes of
bombing but I have completely forgotten the details of that day,’
explains S__ without any coquetry. ‘What a shame that the happy
memories fade! I only remember that my parents asked me solemnly
my opinion, and that I answered formally, “It is for you to decide.”
But in my heart I was in the seventh heaven of delight.’ An arranged
marriage then? She replied that in the Panjshir, this had always been
the custom, and further, as young men and women did not see each
other, it was not possible to meet and even less to fall in love.
“Three months later, without having known that delicious time of
‘engagement,’ was the marriage. For reasons of security, only four
people were present. ‘My own brother was not there, but the
Russians, yes. Two days later they marked us and took aim at us.’
And once again, it was flight to the mountains, the hovel, the hiding,
and the fear. The only change was that she was not following her
father, but her husband. He had promised to come [home] once in a
fortnight, but sometimes it was up to six months, and once it even was
a whole year that he was unable to leave the front. Thus he was
unable to be at the birth of his children. . . .
“S__ and her children never stay more than one year at the same
place. Thrown from a tent to a military house in Panjshir; Kabul—or
today in Tajikistan—for twenty years she has known nothing but
flight and bombardment. . . .
“Today, at last, for the first time in her life she lives in a real house
of her own. Yesterday Commander Massoud arranged the furniture,
like any husband and father of a family moving into his new home.
He could not even believe it himself, and declared jokingly that it is
never too late to discover a new talent. ‘In this pretty house, we
resemble a real family, but everything could be taken away at any
minute. The firing of rockets, the attempts at assassination of the
father of my children, the escapes, the people massacred, . . . but
enough talk of me!’ S__ gets up to change her youngest daughter
Nasreen into pajamas. Does she sometimes wear the Chadri, like some
women one sees on the road walking between two villages? She is
indignant: ‘Never!, nor does my mother. This situation is one of the
direct consequences of the war against the Taliban. I do not possess
one myself, and if you wish you may verify this in my closet. . . .’”
(Excerpts from Marie-Françoise Colombani with Chekeba
Hachemi, “A Meeting with Mme. Massoud”; Elle no. 2906,
September 10, 2001; translated by M. E. Clarkson, November 2001)
 6

A WARRIOR’S WILL
Can you walk on water? You have done no better than a straw.
Can you fly through the air? You are not better than a gnat.
Conquer your heart—then you may become somebody.
—Kwaja Abdullah Ansari of Herat (1005–1090)

During all those years of what seemed to be a never-

ending war, and in their many desperate moments, it
was the power of Massoud’s presence the Afghans
remembered the most.
 ONE BY ONE
Massoud’s reputation is not because of family or a position he was
born into but because of a lot of hard work. In Afghanistan, it is not
possible to become as famous as he was with one victory; there is no
central power who appoints individuals that everybody has to obey.
It is the type of society where you have to win the trust of
individuals, one by one. You have to talk with the people in this
village and that village and motivate them; you know, the motivation
in one is different than another. It is very complicated, but that is how
he became famous.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

“Massoud, who by now had been appointed a Jamiat commander . . .

returned to Panjsher in the winter of 1979. He went into battle, but
nearly died before he began from a leg wound. His already tiny force
had dwindled to ten men with only mulberries to eat. ‘All the people
had left us,’ Massoud recalled. ‘We joined hands and promised
ourselves that we would either liberate our country or die here, but
that we would never leave.’”
(Gary Bowersox, The Gem Hunter, Honolulu: Geovision, Inc.,
2004)
 LIKE A ROCK
It seemed that the whole struggle hung on Massoud’s morale. The
commanders would start to crumble, yet he would stand like a rock.
He didn’t tremble in any way, and he told us, “Things will get easier.
We will prevail.” He had this complete resolve—not giving up,
standing in the face of distress, no matter how big or small—and the
objective remained always clear in his mind. It may not have been
clear for the rest of us, but it was clear to him: We would move
forward, and eventually we would achieve a just government for the
people.
(Haron Amin)

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A CATASTROPHE

The night we had to retreat from Kabul, I arrived in Jabul-Saraj,
Massoud’s stronghold, at 1 a.m. I was surprised to see that Massoud
was already there—in the middle of a tangle of a hundred military and
civilian vehicles that were stuck at the two main entrances to the
Panjshir Valley. He was trying to open the road, and he was alone. I
told him, “This is not your job.”
He was exhausted because he hadn’t slept for two nights, but still
he was working to open the way to traffic, to make sure that these
vehicles found a way to get in. This took until 3 a.m. At the same
time, Massoud had to take care of most of the leaders from Kabul,
like Rabbani and Sayyaf, and he was also trying to get more troops to
the defensive lines in and around the Shamali Plains.
The next morning, it became clear to me how important it had
been for Massoud to open those roads. The Taliban didn’t bombard
our troops in retreat during the night, but when daylight came they
would have been able to send planes to easily bomb any who were still
stuck. It would have been a catastrophe. He had made an important
decision at a time no one else was thinking about it. There are a
hundred stories like that.
(Haroun Mir)

THE LAST HOPE

In 1996, in a collective effort, the Taliban, Al-Qaeda, and the
Pakistan’s ISI [agency for intelligence and covert action] launched a
major offensive on Massoud’s strategic stronghold. The main
objectives were to assassinate Massoud and dismantle his mujahideen
forces. The three were willing to use anything and do anything to
accomplish their goals, and they brought troops from all over
Afghanistan.
We defended ourselves for two weeks. Every day we were losing
strategic territories, and we were not able to recapture them. We
suffered major air attacks. After two weeks of heavy losses, Massoud
decided that he didn’t have any choice but to pull back his forces from
certain areas north of Kabul to his stronghold in the Panjshir Valley.
The Taliban knew that the Panjshir was Massoud’s last main
territory, and if they were successful in capturing the Panjshir Valley
and surrounding him, there would be no way out for him. The
soldiers and the people of the Panjshir feared that this was their last
chance to keep from being conquered by the Taliban. The Panjshir
Valley is small, not equipped to have hundreds and thousands of
people coming in. There were not enough houses, institutions, schools.
There was chaos.
 For the different ethnic groups in the north of Afghanistan, even
for them Massoud was the last hope. If the Taliban captured the
Panjshir, they would have immediately taken the North, so the fate of
all of them depended on Commander Massoud. People were so scared
that they actually considered how they were going to give up to the
Taliban, and they started trying to establish some kind of connection
with them for their own survival. The morale of the whole population
in the Panjshir was so low. They had lost all hope, not only the
population but Massoud’s troops. Even though they showed courage
in front of Massoud, deep down inside they were very fearful that the
Taliban would be successful.
At this moment Massoud made a decision. He said, “No! We are
not going to give up. We are going to fight the Taliban and the foreign
forces who want to take over our country. We are the force of the
Afghan population. We have to defend Afghanistan, and that is what
we are going to do.”
Three days after Massoud’s decision, the whole world was in
shock at how he was able to recapture all the territory he had
previously lost. All around Commander Massoud you could hear
people say: We have recaptured that territory? That one? So positive
—everything seemed so positive that they began to expect they would
recapture more and more territory. Anything seemed possible!
The international community and Western military analysts, none
of them had believed that Commander Massoud had a chance,
especially that he was going to be able to recapture it all, but he did it.
In the counterattack, a thousand Taliban prisoners were captured,
including some of the top leaders, and hundreds of their forces were
killed. I have read many military stories, but I have never witnessed or
known of such a successful attack.
(Commander Bismillah Khan)
 A STEEL SPRING
Massoud was dangerous when forced under enemy pressure into
retreating. After that, he resembled a steel spring that coiled under
strong pressure and was ready to fly back with a fierce jolt into the
face of his enemy.
(Daoud Zulali)

INTO THE CROSSFIRE

During the years of fighting in Kabul, one day I was at his base and I
went to see him. News came to Massoud while he was in a meeting
that two groups were fighting near the French embassy. He asked one
of his commanders what had happened, and the commander did not
know. Massoud suddenly asked to end the meeting, and he left and
jumped in a car. I was in a car behind which followed him.
Near the French embassy, I saw two groups of fighters shooting at
each other. Massoud stopped his car a bit away from the fight, and I
saw him walk by himself towards the crossfire. He shouted, “Stop!
Don’t fight, don’t fight. I am Ahmad Shah Massoud, don’t fight.” And
the fighting stopped.
(Hamed Elmi)

NOBODY DARES TO TELL

The war was sometimes here, sometimes there, so Massoud had to go
around to different places. During the Resistance against the Russians,
he once went to Takhar, and on the way there was a village.
When they got to this village, it was getting late and dark and they
couldn’t go on. There was an old man there who had a guesthouse,
which was actually a restaurant, but people could also stay there. Of
course, when the old man saw who had come to his place he was
willing to offer it, but others were already staying there. The old man
gave a special room to Massoud and his close companions, but there
wasn’t any place for the others, the mujahideen. Massoud went to his
room because he was tired, and he didn’t pressure the old man.
The old man kept saying, “I don’t have any place to give them.”
One high-ranking individual with Massoud (and an important person
today too) kept pushing him, and they got into a fight. Massoud
found out, and he called the old man. “Come here. What’s going on?”
The old man was crying and said, “He hit me because I didn’t give a
room to the mujahideen.”
In front of the old man and two other people, Massoud said, “This
old man is crying; I cannot stand for this! How could you hit him? I
am putting my life, my people’s lives, in danger because of the old
people and the children of this country and you do that? In my
name?” And then Massoud hit that very important man, hit him just
the way he had hit the old man.
That’s a true story that nobody dares to tell. Massoud was
different. He was beyond what people say about him—an
extraordinary man.
(Anonymous)

NO SECRETS
One day, there were reporters in the room waiting to interview
Massoud, and he needed to meet with his commanders. When the
commanders arrived, he asked one of them, “Did you get those
guns?” The man responded yes, and Massoud asked him how many. I
think the man said six Kalashnikovs.
“Only six?”
“Yes.”
So Massoud picked up the walkie-talkie and contacted the
commander who had delivered the weapons. After saying assalam
aleikum to him, Massoud said suddenly into the radio, “You thief!”
“What are you saying?” we heard the commander ask. He
sounded scared.
Massoud said, “How many guns did you deliver?” The man told
him. Then, “Didn’t I tell you to give him such and such a number?
Why didn’t you give him the number I told you?”
The point that I am trying to make is that Massoud was not one
who hid anything. In front of the cameras, reporters, and other
commanders he called that commander a thief. Massoud was a man
who dealt with reality, not one of those generals who defend his
people at any cost.
(Farid Amin)

A WALK AMONG THE MINES

They told me that Massoud was walking in an area where there might
be land mines. I warned him, but he said, “We should not show
weakness. If I show that I am afraid, then it will become difficult to
convince other mujahideen to go to that area.” He believed he had a
mission. His life would come to an end on the day when God wanted,
and he thought that signs of weakness from their leader would affect
the population—that they would lose trust in him and become fearful.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

EIGHT GUYS
I had an extraordinary hour watching Massoud yell at his
commanders for making mistakes in a battle. They really looked like
schoolboys. Some of them were twenty years older, but they were like
ten years old with Massoud. What’s interesting is that afterwards,
Reza Deghati, the photographer that traveled with me, told me what
happened, but for two hours he allowed me to just watch people’s
body language, to watch Massoud talk and watch the others react.
Those are the kinds of things that you are blind to if you listen to
words; I was kind of forced to take it in visually.
It was an impressive sight, these twenty men, some in their sixties,
some in their twenties, all very capable in what they do. But some of
them had not followed Massoud’s battle plan, and, I think, eight guys
had been wounded by land mines. Probably half of them died. I saw
those guys right after they were wounded, and it was the most
horrible thing.
Massoud was just furious. It was his respect for people. These
were just the sons of peasants, just good soldiers in a militia. I have
been in wars in Africa and all over the place, and commanders don’t
care about those guys, but Massoud was furious. I was very impressed
with the concern that he had for these guys who were just very poor
people, twenty-year-old soldiers who had no say in anything.
(Sebastian Junger)
 SPECIAL FAVOR
I think the most important thing about Massoud was his face. It was
so strong, and the way he looked at people. But this was only the
façade. The real thing is that when you started talking with him, you
immediately understood the power of the man—the power that was
behind his eyes and behind his face—the integrity of the person. He
never compromised; he never once compromised. He was very
straight, and he never played dirty political games.
One day, the chief of a village came to him. He said, “I need to ask
a favor. My son is twenty years old and he did something wrong. He
wounded someone.” He asked Massoud to get his son out of trouble,
out of jail. Massoud looked at him and said, “You know, until now I
thought you were a good commander and a good governor of your
region, but you have made me change my opinion about you.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because if you are asking me to do this for your son, it means
that your son may have done something against the law, and the judge
will decide about that, not me. We have a judge, we have a court—
people that take care of this. If your son is guilty he will go to prison;
if he is not guilty he won’t go to prison. But if you ask me to get him
out of trouble, you are a corrupt person and you may do other wrong
things.”
Not only did Massoud dismiss the idea of releasing the man’s son,
he also dismissed the man from his government post.
(Reza Deghati)

A HOUSE IN THE PARK

There is a diplomatic court in Kabul where most of the embassies are,
and it had a park, mostly for children, but it was never really put
together because of the situation. When I was in the city during 1996,
one commander who worked under Massoud wanted to build a house
for himself there. Massoud warned him more than once not to do it,
not to put his house there, because it was a park.
The man had already built a wall, and the foundation was about
seventy-five centimeters high when one day I heard Massoud tell
somebody, “Go tell him again not to do it.” He said, “If he doesn’t
topple it, tomorrow I will.” The day after, I went to see what
happened. I went with my camera, and I filmed a Massoud tank
toppling that house. It was gone!
(Farid Amin)

MY FAMILY IS HERE
There was a point where Massoud was cut off in the Panjshir and
surrounded by the Taliban and doing badly. The Taliban really had
him surrounded, and it was a very, very bad situation. They were
confident that they had finally got him.
Massoud had the freedom to fly out of Afghanistan anytime; he
had helicopters to go back and forth to see his family, which was in
Dushanbe. This time, he sent the helicopter to Dushanbe, got his wife
and children, and brought them into Afghanistan to be with him. He
wanted to make a statement to his men and the Taliban that he wasn’t
even considering surrender, because once your men start to wonder if
their commander is thinking about other possibilities—like maybe I
can escape from this, maybe I should negotiate this—the whole thing
falls apart. He brought in his family, and he said, “Your families are
stuck here. Now my family is here with me. We are not going to lose
it. We are not going to surrender.”
The Taliban were absolutely shocked. It made them reassess if he
was as weak as they thought he was, and in the end it worked.
Imagine an American military commander doing that!
(Sebastian Junger)

TALLER AND LOUDER

The perception in the world was that the Afghans were poor, illiterate
people against a superpower, and that they could not win freedom.
But Commander Massoud was a master and contributed much toward
convincing the people by his interviews, his actions, his organization,
his character. He had the bravery to say, “This perception is wrong.
We do want freedom!”
This was a great challenge twenty-five years ago. Imagine the
power of Leonid Brezhnev, of Soviet Russia, the propaganda all over
the world. Imagine that half the world was under their influence, that
Asia was partly under their influence, and Africa, and this small
nation of seventeen million people who were very poor, spoke loudly
and stated, “We will win the war for freedom!” Commander Massoud
was taller and louder than anyone, in action and in words, in honesty
and in bravery, and in his love of freedom and his hope for the future.
(Masood Khalili)

AMONG THE MUJAHIDEEN

We were with Massoud and the mujahideen before a battle, and there
was a terrific sense of morale, a camaraderie, the sense that they were
in control and everything was going to be fine. And they had
absolutely no fear of the Russians. There was no sense of hatred, no
sense of animosity.
The times I was with the mujahideen in the Panjshir, I could see
that they were in control of their emotions. They tended to be wise in
that, when they took prisoners, they understood that if they treated
them right others would surrender much more easily. I had the feeling
that Massoud’s people were trained very carefully, and they thought
about what they were going to do and about the ramifications of their
actions.
I was with Hezb-i-Islami, and there was none of the sense of
intelligence I saw in Massoud’s group. The people of Hezb always
seemed to be extreme—always shouting and screaming and bragging.
The Panjsheris were more modest.
(Chris Hooke)

SOMETHING OF HIMSELF
The calm with which he conducted himself in the most violent
situations, amidst the most barbaric things that you find in wartime!
And he succeeded in imparting this calm to his troops. Look at how
Massoud’s troops returned from an operation—there was no dancing,
joy, or applause. They accomplished the duty that they had to
accomplish for the sake of what they loved. This is how Massoud
succeeded, because he was able to impart something of himself to his
troops.
(Humayun Tandar)
 Give me that man
That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him
In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.
—William Shakespeare (Hamlet, 3.2.69-71)
 7

FOR MANY YEARS TO COME

When you talked to him you felt like he saw thousands of miles further than
you. If I am looking at what I will do tomorrow, a week or a month from
today, Massoud could see years ahead—a person spiritually above the normal.
It changed my life.
—Suraya Zikria

What was the purpose of Massoud’s life? During more

than twenty years of war, he struggled to preserve the
old traditions, to save one life at a time, and to design
a new world in the middle of the night with just the
light of a candle. In the life of Massoud, past, present,
and future seemed to be constantly intertwined.
 TAKING APART A STONE
One of Massoud’s great characteristics was his intelligence, and in the
service of his intelligence was his goodness. This is a rare thing, and
when you add courage, it is something even rarer. But his intelligence
truly dominated everything.
He had the art of taking apart a stone in three or four blows.
When he did something he saw the advantages and the results. He told
himself, “If I do this, that will happen and there will be three effects,
three consequences.” That was the unique thing about the man.
(Pilar-Hélène Surgers)

A SENSE OF FREEDOM
Everywhere near Massoud’s bases there were medical clinics. For the
first time in the history of Afghanistan, in these remote places he cared
about the moms. The mothers who were pregnant were always losing
babies, and they could go to those clinics and learn about maternity
issues.
He wanted people to be educated, to know that education is the
primary thing in a person’s life, because he knew its importance. It
empowers you to read, and then you get access to human history. You
can read from Cicero to Churchill, from Homer to Shakespeare. You
can read books that give you unlimited access to knowledge. A sense
of freedom—this is what Massoud was about in all aspects of life.
 (Haron Amin)

THOSE FIVE YEAR OLDS

One of his big things was schools, building schools for both boys and
girls in the Panjshir Valley, while he was fighting this offensive. At one
point, I was driving down the road with some officers and Massoud in
a convoy of five or six vehicles. We pulled around unexpectedly, and
Massoud jumped out of the car, because we were passing a school
that he wanted built. The school was halfway finished—they had put
in the foundation and were starting to build the rest of it—and he
jumped out, almost but not quite in the middle of the battle, and
walked around the school. He was an engineer, so he saw that some
things were good and some were wrong—sort of an architect, staring
around. He looked at the plans and sort of tested the desks for the
children, and then he asked for a notebook. Somebody brought one
and he put it on the desk, and the notebook was bigger than the desk.
He slapped the desk and said, “Children can not write in their
notebooks when the notebooks are bigger than the desks! What are
you doing?”
In some ways, he was the ultimate micromanager. Here he was,
almost in the middle of the battle, and he was furious about the
sloppiness and shortsightedness of whoever built these desks for some
five year olds because without those five year olds, if they were not
educated, Afghanistan would not have a chance. He was thinking so
far ahead, I was just amazed, and he had the same fervor and energy
that he had about fighting the Taliban. To him, it was all the same
fight, I think, that to fight a war you have to take care of every aspect
of the society you are protecting.
 (Sebastian Junger)

MY PLAN
I was lacking English, and, because of my experience in Afghanistan, I
knew that there was a need for people to be trained in political
administration. When I was going to France, I spoke with Massoud on
the phone. He asked me what was my plan, and I told him that I was
going to study for two or three years to learn English and
administration so I could be helpful.
He said that in the country there was plenty of fighting, but there
was a need for education of young people. Massoud wanted to
educate them but there were no professors in the north. He said he
needed educated people, and he told me that if I needed money for my
education he was willing to pay. I said no, because I know that my
country is poor, but Massoud would have given money to help
anyone.
(Haroun Mir)

WHO’S ASKING?
Journalists who have met him can tell you that they would interview
him and he would answer questions, but more than answering
questions, he would ask questions of them about things that he was
thinking about. He was constantly trying to see the totality.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)
 TEN THOUSAND CHILDREN
Massoud loved children. He believed that they were the future of the
country and the world. He loved them so much that, despite the tough
financial situation, he provided schools for my children and the others
in Tajikistan whose families were in the Resistance. He provided funds
and established schools for ten thousand Afghan children. He always
made sure that the teachers were paid on time, and he specifically
indicated that the children needed TV programs, not only for
education, but also for entertainment.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

TRAINING CENTER AT KHOST

SATURDAY, JUNE 5, 1988
“Today, after morning prayers, I went to the training center to talk
with the friends. I gave a test to a class, had a discussion with the
teacher, and studied grammar and religious jurisprudence. Although I
was not able to perform much, I am pleased.
“Very quickly, I found out that the surrounding area was different
and new arrangements were apparent. The outside of the school was
clean, blackboards had been installed, and bulletin boards were full of
notices, charts, and new programs. Cleanliness, order, and
pleasantness could be seen inside and outside of the school building
and in the classes, which made me happy and satisfied. The teachers
were pleased, and everybody seemed convinced that the subjects,
cultural activities, and teaching programs were excellent. The office
and the kitchen were also nice and clean and that made me glad.”
 (Excerpt from the diary of Ahmad Shah Massoud, translated by
personnel of the Afghan embassy, London, England)

FAR BEYOND AFGHANISTAN

I translated for the French journalists for hours and I learned a lot—
about Afghanistan and about Massoud’s plans, his tactics and
strategy. He explained why he organized the Shura-e-Nezar, his
purpose and his objectives, and I thought, this man is different.
During the night when we didn’t have any work, Massoud asked
me questions about France, about the lifestyle in France, about food,
politics, and I thought, he is more than just a military man. (My first
impression and the impression of the journalists, from the stories
about the fighting in the Panjshir Valley against the Soviet Union, had
been that Massoud was a military genius.).
He had a vision of politics, of economy, science. He asked me
questions about things that were far beyond Afghanistan, about
everything you can imagine: Paris, architecture, museums, movies,
books. He asked me how many books I read per year. He asked me
the names of some French writers, and he asked me if I had the chance
to read the book of Henri-Christian Giraud, the French strategist,
about the memoirs of de Gaulle.
I was completely amazed. This man, how could he get access in
these mountains? There is no electricity, no telephone, no library, no
computers; there is nothing. He asked if I knew people in France who
could send computers to Afghanistan for the organization of the loya
jirga.
(Daoud Mir)
 REAL LIFE AND REAL PEOPLE
I didn’t have the slightest idea that in the middle of all this Massoud
would have time to read books. Then I saw that, aside from poetry, he
would find an hour to read, for example, a book on management.
Sometimes he read aloud.
Most of the things I learned I knew as theory, but to apply them to
daily life, that is something else. I had read a lot of books, but I
learned from him how those things apply to real life and to people.
Also something else that went with that: He would say, “Look, this
will be needed in the future. Let’s say that one day we will have
responsibility for a larger area. If you don’t have the knowledge of
management. . . . These are things that other people have learned by
making mistakes, and that knowledge is available. Why not use it?”
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

NOT A GOOD IDEA

A certain Muslim group offered to be part of the coalition to fight
against the Soviet-supported regime. Massoud discussed the
possibility, and then he said, “We cannot be allies with these people
for long because of their ideology. If we cooperate with them, they
will expect us to be their friends. Since we cannot be friends for the
long term, we would be using them and then turning against them,
and that is not a good idea. The best way is to tell them now that it is
not possible.” He did not want to give a false impression to somebody
with whom he was not able to work, even to gain their help.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)
 WE CANNOT UNDO IT
Once I heard Massoud say to a young man, “Even if I tell you
something just once, think two or three times about how you will act
on it, because if we make a mistake we cannot undo it. We should
always treat people well because, if we offend them, apologies cannot
make up for it.” It was good manners, it was his religion, and it was
his own feeling.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

REZA (DEGHATI): “As a father, what do you tell your children

about the future of Afghanistan? What do you teach them? What sort
of future Afghanistan do you envision for them?”

AHMAD SHAH MASSOUD: “When peace comes—and God willing,

it will undoubtedly come—the first and foremost thing we should tell
our children is about what kind of bloodletting, martyrdom, and
sacrifice made possible such a peace, so that the future generations
understand the value of freedom, of security, and of peace. Also,
obviously every Afghan’s dream is that their children should live a
future with peace, harmony, and freedom.”
(Excerpt from interview with Commander Massoud from Into the
Forbidden Zone, a video of the National Geographic Society)

IT’S A MASSACRE
Even as the war continued, Massoud paid attention to everything:
people, women, the environment. In the north of Afghanistan we have
big rivers. Before the fighting against the Soviet Union, people used to
fish in them, but afterwards they started to use grenades. Why?
Because there was not enough food and people were hungry, the
fighters were hungry, and they could get more fish using a grenade.
Massoud ordered that this not be done, and he warned that if
anybody used grenades or explosives they would be fined a thousand
Afghanis and sentenced up to a month in jail. He said, “It’s not
fishing, it’s a massacre.”
He also ordered that the trees not be cut. We did not have gas or
electricity, so some fighters cut trees for heat, but Massoud controlled
that very strictly, and he had good intelligence information about it,
too.
(Salih Registani)

“In Afghanistan, meals are traditionally eaten on the floor, sitting

cross-legged around a cloth that acts like a dining table. Massoud
himself spread the cloth out and served the food. Spring air flowed
into the room, and the morning sunlight splashed around us. Peering
out the window, I saw almond trees in full bloom and heard birds
chirping. I told Massoud he had a beautiful garden. He told me, ‘The
Soviets destroyed most of the trees. We planted these after they left.
When peace comes, we will develop electricity and reforest the
mountainsides.’”
(Plunk, Wandering Peacemaker, 147)
 KEEP IT FOR THE FUTURE
If Massoud made a plan, it was not just for today or tomorrow but
for the next twenty years. For example, in the beginning of the 1980s,
we were fighting in the Panjshir and captured a lot of ammunition
from the Russians. He put it all in a certain place in the mountains
and said to just keep it there. Later, many times we were running out
of ammunition, and we asked, “Why don’t we use that ammunition?”
He said, “No, we are okay for now. We will just go and attack the
Russians and take their weapons.”
That ammunition is still there, twenty-three years later. He was
thinking that, years later, nobody would help if somebody like the
Taliban came, and we would have to have that ammunition to fight.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

OLD ENOUGH
I went to Farkhar, where Massoud’s education center was. The
training was military and political. He was trying to make sure people
knew why we were fighting. In three months of training I learned
more than in four years in the university. I learned about myself as a
human being.
Every week Amer Saheb came to check on the course, and he
would give us a talk to make our hearts confident. Once we were in
the mosque, and I was sitting close to the mumbar, where the imam
directs the prayers. Massoud sat right in front of me, and he started to
talk. The mosque was full of muhasseleen (graduate students). He
noticed that there were some who were very young, and I was one of
them. He said, “We will send back all the people who are very young.
They need to be at home.”
He sent the young ones home, but I did not go because I had a
passion to be with Ahmad Shah and to work with him. I stayed, and
later I would see Massoud, and he would smile at me because I was so
young and had tried so hard to stay. He said, “I don’t want you young
people to have the idea that this is just about fighting. I want you to
be the leaders of the future and be able to help people.”
(Eisa Khan Ayoob Ayoobi)

TO EACH AND EVERY VILLAGE

Once in ’98 or ’99 we were in Jabul-Saraj where we have a big
property, and we were just walking and talking in the beautiful
evening. Marvelous. It was close to twilight, but you could still see the
sunset.
He said, “Do you know, Khalili, what I really want?”
“To defeat the Taliban and go to Kabul,” I responded.
“No, that’s not the real thing. I want one time for you and me and
two or three other friends with our boots and our jackets to go to
each and every village, the remotest villages in Afghanistan, and give
our wishes and message to each and every person in this country. I
have to reach them.”
When you see that somebody has this kind of vision in his mind,
you know the future will bring no power grab. As a spiritual, political,
and social leader, he wanted to reach the hearts of the people, to stay
there, to work there, to live and die there.
Massoud had this vision, and I believe that if an individual or a
nation does not have a vision, it shall perish. Somebody who had this
kind of vision is not going for a temporary grab of power. He wants
to receive power from the people, by the people, and use it for the
people. That is the vision of a real leader.
(Masood Khalili)

TASK OF THE FUTURE

One night, while telling stories in the Panjshir, Massoud suddenly
said, “We believe in the victory of the mujahideen and the defeat of
the Russians, but when an Islamic government is established by the
mujahideen in Afghanistan, some countries which are friendly to us
now will choose the path of hostility and enmity toward us whether
we want it or not.” I could not keep quiet; I asked why.
“Some of today’s friends will not tolerate an Islamic government in
our country. It will be the task of the future leader to display the
talent, potential, and creativity needed to convince them that Islam is
a religion of peace and serenity,” he said. Alas, neither in Afghanistan,
nor elsewhere in the Islamic world, has a leader come forward with
those qualities to convince our friends, and many of them have not
seemed willing to listen either.
(Daoud Zulali)

AFTER THE TALIBAN

He was convinced that eventually Kabul and the Taliban would fall.
In 2000, when I was there, he was already training a core of
policemen in the Panjshir to keep order in the streets of Kabul, so that
his soldiers would not be scaring people. He ordered police uniforms,
and we saw these guys being trained to deal with civilians. He did not
want it to be chaos, and he knew that it would be if the Taliban pulled
out. In a country that is soaked in war like Afghanistan, to think that
way is just amazing.
I happened to be there in a very interesting time. I did not know it
then, but looking back I realize that it was. Massoud brought together
Afghan leaders from all ethnic groups. They flew from London, Paris,
the USA, all parts of Afghanistan, Pakistan, India. He brought them
all into the northern area where he was. He held a council of maybe
fifteen or sixteen leaders, prominent Afghans from all over the world,
brought there to discuss the Afghan government after the Taliban. He
knew that the Afghans could not withstand any vacuum at all; they
had to put in a government immediately.
We watched this council. It happened in a field with a big circle of
plastic chairs, and we met all of these men and interviewed them
briefly. One was Hamid Karzai; I did not have any idea who he would
end up being—just another well-spoken Afghan in the group.
Massoud was so far ahead of everybody. He was thinking way
down the road, I think, far beyond his death. He said very openly that
there had been a lot of assassination attempts against him, and it was
very possible that they would eventually get him. He was trying to get
the country rolling so it could survive without him.
(Sebastian Junger)

SARICHA
Massoud had the gift of vision. He was always thinking twenty or
thirty years ahead. For example, I remember in 1980 he was talking
about building a canal to bring water to a place called Saricha. He
wanted to make that place green. There is nothing there, just the
mountains and a tree, that’s all.
I remember there was a breakfast at my house and he was talking
with my father about how to bring water to three villages from a
source fifteen miles to the north. My father said, “Why do you want
to bring water?” And Massoud said that some day it would be a place
where visitors came for vacations. This is happening right now—
people from all over the world go there to visit Massoud’s grave.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

WINSTON AND THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

To me, Massoud is the perfect example of a single man who, as
Winston Churchill said, “did so much for so many.” He made a
difference. The Wall Street Journal called him “the Afghan who won
the Cold War,” and he had the foresight to know that the threat of
the Taliban was no less.
(Haron Amin)
 8

TO LEAD A NATION
Everybody calls Massoud amir. It is a spiritual word in Islam, which means
“leader,” and Amer Saheb means “respected amir.”
—Abdullah Anas

From the valleys to the top of the mountains of the

Hindu Kush, Massoud not only led the Resistance but
also directed every community effort and received
people from all over the world from all religions and
walks of life. He was the leader of the great battle and
the leader in each and every single task of his people
and his land.
 TWO FORCES IN HARMONY
Having chosen to study architecture and loving literature, reciting
poems—these are aspects of Commander Massoud that are extremely
important. He did not love literature itself; what he loved was
Afghanistan and its deepest expression—Afghanistan, the land of
poetry and of mysticism.
His choice of a field of study together with his attachment to
poetry manifested this. It was modernity anchored in tradition. He is
the incarnation of both forces at play, this exceptional being. This was
the reason people wanted to follow him—because of his harmony
with both of these forces in his culture.
We faced an enemy ideology that said, “All that is old is bad and
must be destroyed.” According to it, Afghan culture had to be rejected
in the name of modernity and doing things a new way. Massoud was
entirely opposed to this. Consciously or unconsciously, he was beating
back the unbalanced modernity which was being imposed on the deep
roots of Afghan society.
(Humayun Tandar)

NOT FOR ME TO SAY

If you told Massoud anything about the West, he was very open to
persuasion. However, when the British said that they could only be
friendly to the Rabbani-Massoud government if they felt it would
move to some sort of democratic system, Massoud said, “I think the
people should decide. It’s not for me to say what is going to happen.
They should choose, and I will do what they need me to do.” I think
he felt that genuinely.
(Sandy Gall)

LET’S TALK ABOUT MONEY

We were in the middle of the war and Massoud was talking to the
people about how much money we got, how much we spent, and how
much we still had. I asked him, “What is the point of saying all this?
Somebody may go to the enemy and tell them that we have this
money. We should keep it secret and not reveal our finances.”
He said, “Here is the problem: If we don’t talk about our finances,
our friends will become suspicious. So even though it is not necessary
to talk about it, I do it so people won’t have any doubts in their
minds.”
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

“That evening we dined with some of the Dasht-i-Riwat emerald

dealers, . . . three or four averagely villainous-looking men. . . . The
shabbiest-looking Afghan hitched up his shirt, producing a small wad
of tissue paper, which he unwrapped carefully to reveal fifteen or
twenty emeralds.
“The emeralds, which are found in certain rock formations in the
mountains round Dasht-i-Riwat, used to be auctioned in the town.
But because of the war, they are now exported to Pakistan, where
dealers come from far and wide, especially Germany, to buy them.
Ten percent of all sales is paid over to Masud’s organization. He had
told us himself how important the sale of emeralds was to his war
effort.”
(Gall, Behind Russian Lines)

LAPIS AND TAXES

In the upper part of the Panjshir Valley we have lapis lazuli. Before the
Resistance, the people of the Panjshir dug holes into the mountains to
get it. They worked for themselves and took the stones to other
countries to sell them. It was very difficult, because the business was
not organized.
When the war started in Afghanistan, Massoud got some of the
money from lapis lazuli—not the control of the production, but taxes
on it. He used that money for the Resistance. Later on, he bought the
lapis from the people directly and resold it. He paid more than others,
and he worked for the Resistance, so the people were happier.
People from the Panjshir who were working in Kabul also gave the
Resistance 5 percent of their salary, even though they were not in the
Resistance itself. Then, three years before he was assassinated,
Massoud decided to organize the Afghans living in Europe and the
United States to form a political party operating outside Afghanistan.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

OUR OWN RESOURCES

Wherever Massoud went he established new roads. Throughout the
north he created a network of them. For him they were important for
access to health care, and we did not want to isolate ourselves. There
was always that issue of self-sufficiency; for Massoud it was
immensely important. So our aim was self-sufficiency by being able to
trade within the region with a long-term objective—to depend on our
own resources. When it came to exchange and trade, he wanted to
make sure that no country had an upper edge that would draw us into
situations we didn’t want.
Massoud thought that natural resources belonged to the nation, so
whoever was willing to come and invest and take our stones, 10
percent should go to the state, and from that he would finance some
of the cost of his soldiers. His calculation was, if we don’t provide the
defense, you cannot take precious stones. Since they belong to the
Afghan nation, the taxes should go to finance the war that will protect
the nation. Everyone who could produce anything had to pay taxes to
sustain the war.
Massoud had three other sources of income. One was from the
part of the Resistance organization that resided in Pakistan and from
people in foreign countries—Arabs, non-Arabs, Americans, etc. . . .
Another was what he collected in taxes locally, in Kabul, and in the
North.
The third source was his ability to convince people to let go of
money they had earned. For example, people would come with mules
from Pakistan. They would say, “Amer Saheb, we brought you these,
and we need to collect the money for them.” And Massoud would say,
“Did you do it for me, or did you do it for God?” And they would
say, “We did it for God.” So he would say, “Then let it be for the
grace of God, because we need the money.”
 His magic was in the way that he was able to convince people.
They would walk away happy, knowing they were doing something
for the country and for God and not asking anything in return. If they
were still not happy, then Massoud would give them the money, but
he was able to convince most people that they had to do something
beyond themselves. He had enormous powers of persuasion.
(Haron Amin)

THE LOSS YOU CANNOT RECOVER

Massoud said about the Resistance, “Without the support of the
people you cannot do anything.” Support of people can exist because
the people are against the occupation, but you cannot keep those
emotions unless you do something for people so they can survive and
move forward—hope that they can have, hope for the future.
For that, in every instance, Massoud had a civilian structure to
which people would refer for their work and activities. He was saying,
“The minute you lose hope, that is the loss you cannot recover. We
should maintain the hope of the people. Then there will always be
ways to get out of the other problems.”
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

THE SOCIAL FUND

The mujahideen and Massoud used to have a small budget, and they
gave us some charity—food and clothes or money. They called it
baitulmaal, a social fund. But when they bought food or anything for
Massoud or his family, he would pay that money back. He never used
money from the government or from anybody to buy anything for
himself.
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

EUGEN SORG: “In the areas you control, opium is grown. . . . We

saw the fields in the villages.”

MASSOUD: “There are some cultures in Badakhshan province.

Ismailites are living there, an Islamic cult whose followers have been
addicted for centuries. They are planting drugs for their own use. But
if you go to Chay Ab, to the local jail, there you will find Ghollam
Salim, a drug tycoon. In one raid we seized half a ton of opium on his
estate. Now he is in jail for the third year despite all his money and
influence.”
(Farzana Mehran, “Ahmad Shah Massoud: A Biography,”
www.afgha.com, August 31, 2006)

WITHIN ISLAMIC TRADITIONS

Massoud was very much part of that revolutionary generation among
educated young Afghans of the ’60s and early ’70s, but he made
connections with the deepest wellsprings of Islamic thought. He came
to his conclusions in favor of parliamentary government, secular rule,
equality in professional and educational opportunities for women and
men, and alliance with Western democracies, entirely from within his
Islamic traditions. This makes him absolutely unique among all of the
twentieth century’s Islamic figures.
 A decisive turning point for Massoud came in 1975, when he
realized that Islamism was being used as a political tool by Pakistan.
He was a dedicated Muslim. To him religion was a profound mystical
commitment, not a political tool.
(Professor Michael Barry)

BUILDING BRIDGES
Massoud was very talented in his sense of long term—thinking about
what to do today, what should be done throughout the year, and that
this year’s actions are part of what needs to be done in the next five
years. So bit by bit we moved towards the goals.
There was a health committee in the Panjshir, and there was a
reconstruction committee! What was reconstruction at that time?
Building a small bridge so the locals could walk one hour, instead of
three hours to the big bridge. There were education, cultural, and
military, and perhaps one or two other committees. As he liberated
more areas, the committees spread their work into them. Then he had
representatives for each committee in Peshawar. He had the
representatives get in touch with non-government organizations and
international organizations which were helping in their particular
fields.
In each village there was a shura [council]. Somebody with
religious significance—an elder, a commander, or somebody educated
—would be in charge of the shura, and for everything that affected the
life of that village, those people had to be consulted. Moving up the
chain of command to the district and the councils, it wasn’t just
military thinking and military organization.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)
“Masud . . . explained how his guerilla movement was based around
twenty qarargahs [military posts] in the Panjsher. Each qarargah had a
group of about thirty mujahideen for self-defence . . . and another
mobile group of thirty—a strike force that could operate anywhere
inside or outside the Panjsher. In turn, each qarargah was divided into
political, military, economic, law and health sections, and each had a
council of ten elected villagers to advise the Commander.”
(Gall, Behind Russian Lines, 155)

BETTER THAN THE ENEMY

Massoud believed that war was only necessary when there was
injustice. Ultimately human beings have to be mobilized and educated
with the right values: taking care of rebuilding, taking care of the
villages, administration of the right kind, collecting taxes, currency
control. He did all those things so that people could live comfortably
because justice had been provided.
Every society is about the rule of law. If you can provide that
better than the enemy, then you have succeeded because you have
given your people an incentive, you win their hearts. When you rule
with law and justice, you don’t have the law of the jungle in which the
mighty dominate affairs. This is what Massoud was about.
(Haron Amin)

ORDINARY PEOPLE
His leadership was not a material thing. He started in an innocent way
at the university and made a moral commitment to defend his country
and to pave the way to a democratic government. He trusted the
people; he believed that when they get together they can come up with
good solutions.
Once in the early stages, he said, “Maybe one day a bomb will
come and kill us, so let’s make this war against the invader a thing
that will endure, and the best way to do that is to get ordinary people
involved. If we ask these people to send their representatives, then if
we get killed, others will be involved to take our places—new, young
people.”
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

PEOPLE COULDN’T UNDERSTAND

Sometimes, Massoud made decisions that, even now, people cannot
understand. For example, on a couple of occasions he did not launch
military operations against Gulbuddin Hekmatyar with all his forces.
The night that the Taliban came close to Kabul from Kandahar,
they captured Hekmatyar’s control area, and Hekmatyar’s forces were
escaping to Jalalabad in the south. We intercepted his troops, and our
commander in the Baghram area ordered two aircraft to bomb them.
Massoud was furious. He did not want to bomb these soldiers
because, although politically and militarily it was to his advantage to
defeat Hekmatyar, he wanted to save Afghanistan as a country, and
he was sure that if he did such a thing he would divide south and
north. Also, it is forbidden in Islam to fight troops that are only
retreating. Any other leader would have destroyed Hekmatyar and
would have only the Taliban left to fight against. Only a few people
know this.
(Haroun Mir)

TWO POLITICIANS
For many politicians, politics is first and the people come behind it.
Politics dictates that they kill people and destroy things, and they do
it. The objective is power. Power is their god, and they will use any
means to obtain it.
There are very few exceptions, like Massoud, where the people
were in front and politics came behind. Massoud was serving
humanity, for peace, for dignity, not to be the leader or the president
of this country.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

NOT MY JOB
The big countries had some plans for Afghanistan because we beat the
Russians, but Massoud told all of them, the United States, the British,
the Europeans, “Contact our foreign ministry; that’s not my job.
Because we are now an independent country, your foreign minister
has to speak with ours. I have no time to speak with you secretly.”
Because the United States helped during the war against the
Russians, after that they wanted something from Afghanistan, but Mr.
Massoud did not accept it because he was different. In my opinion, if
he had, he would not have died, but they would have had anything
they wanted in Afghanistan.
 (Ahmad Jamshid)

TAKING POWER
The higher you go, if you are an honest man, the better you serve your
country, serve humanity. The prophets were the highest. They did not
accept worldly power, because they were higher than that and could
serve people through spiritual means, but Commander Massoud was
not the kind of person to avoid taking power. He was in favor of it—
at the right time, with the right means, and for the right reasons. He
was just not the kind of person that had the thirst for power.
(Masood Khalili)

A GOVERNMENT DIVIDED
Massoud did not like the idea of a federal government divided among
different ethnic groups. He thought there should be one government
that treated all people fairly. In this he was different than Dostum, the
Hazaras, and some others. It was his belief that if a government were
divided among the ethnic groups, foreign influences would cause
tension and discord among those groups.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

THE TRADITIONAL WAY

Massoud was in contact with Taliban leaders, and he insisted that
ultimately any settlement must include those of them that were
moderate. Although he fought the Taliban with tenacity and skill, he
really felt that war was not the solution, that a lasting solution would
have to come after the people sat and talked in the traditional way,
over green tea.
(Edward Girardet)

“At the insistence of delegates who had the opportunity to meet

Massoud, and who were convinced by his opinion and by the proof of
foreign interference in Afghanistan, Massoud was invited by the
European Parliament in April, 2001, to come to Paris to draw
attention to his fight in Afghanistan. For his longstanding efforts,
especially for women’s rights, the president of the European
Parliament, Nicole Fontaine, called Massoud the ‘pole of freedom.’”
(Mehran, “Ahmad Shah Massoud: A Biography”)

MEETING THE EUROPEANS

Wali Massoud and I encouraged Massoud to go to Paris. We felt that
it was necessary. He said that he would come, and we were in Paris
making preparations. It was the first trip, and it was hard work. For
two or three days we slept only two or three hours because of it.
Afghans from different parts of the world came. There were
meetings with the Afghans, meetings with the journalists, the doctors
who went to the Panjshir during the years of the Russians . . . and
finally Massoud arrived, and he was there for a few days and the
program went extremely well. We had wondered how he might do,
considering that it was his first meeting with the Western leaders. He
did perfectly, as if he had done it a hundred times.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

“He [Massoud] worked 18 hours a day, five days straight, meeting

with journalists, with top-level ministers, with Bernard Kouchner, the
founder of Médécins sans Frontières [Doctors Without Borders] and
former head of the U.N. mission in Kosovo, and with the entire
European Parliament. His message was simple: Force Pakistan to stop
supporting the Taliban regime and the war will end within the year. In
addition, he asked for humanitarian help with the refugees and
military help for the Northern Alliance, but that was secondary.
Mainly, he warned that if Pakistan was not ostracized for its support
of the Taliban, Afghanistan would continue to be a haven for
terrorism and extremism. Ultimately, he said, the West would pay a
terrible price.
“‘If I could say one thing to President Bush,’ Massoud said at a
press conference, ‘it would be that if he doesn’t take care of what is
happening in Afghanistan the problem will not only hurt the Afghan
people but the American people as well.’”*
(Sebastian Junger, “Massoud’s Last Conquest,” Vanity Fair no.
498, 107–9)

“For three days he recounted to his staff his trip and the result of his
interviews. He was enthusiastic about his conversations with the
officials and the Afghans of the Diaspora. ‘I transmitted my message
and they all understood it,’ he kept saying. He had the euphoric
sensation of having accomplished his duty. More than ever he aimed
for the solidarity of the whole country, and less than ever did he want
to hear about Uzbeks, Pashtuns, Tajiks, and Hazaras.”
(Sediqa Massoud, quoted in Chekeba Hachemi and Marie-
Françoise Colombani, Pour l’Amour de Massoud [Paris: XO Editions,
2005], 226; translated from French by Michele Mattei, with the
assistance of Arlette Croels Decker)

THREE DIMENSIONS OF UNITY

Massoud wanted to renovate the basic structure of the society, and in
this way he was a great reformer. The other fronts of the Resistance
espoused completely the traditional societal structure, but Massoud—
this was the force of his personality—wanted to change that structure
in his own organization. He did not leave his organization just at the
village, district, ethnic, clan, or tribal level. From the beginning, he
created unity among three dimensions: in the village, on the road, and
at the group level.
There had been no tradition in Afghanistan for such unity, and it is
only by this innovation that Massoud succeeded in doing what he
wanted to do. He did all this without clashing with society, which
accepted his innovations because his modernity respected its culture
and its traditions.
(Humayun Tandar)
 9

THE FINER THINGS

This man is at war, and he always has a longing, ‘Oh God, give me the time,
far from the sounds of the guns, far from the sounds of the bombs, far from
the smell of gun powder, in the deepest valley, so I can sit with a friend and
recite poetry.’ I wrote that, and I wrote that this man will not have the time to
go to a deeper valley to be with a friend, listening and reciting poetry, because
this is a war, a cruel war of survival against a superpower. And he is the
Commander.
—Masood Khalili

In the story of Massoud and the Afghans, I have

found courage, love, and honor, and what surprised
me the most . . . subtlety.
 THE DANCING BIRDS
Massoud enjoyed walking around his garden; he loved flowers. There
is a reason why he moved his headquarters to Takhar. Right after the
cease-fire with Russia, we went to the north, where Massoud created
an organization called Shura-e-Nezar with commanders from all over
Afghanistan. On the trip, we were walking in the mountains of
Takhar, and we saw red, white, and yellow tulips like a carpet in the
valley. He said, “What a beautiful place,” and that was it. He moved
his headquarters there.
A few hours’ walk away, there is a place in the desert with a well
and a couple of trees—another beautiful place. This is where I saw the
dancing birds. The first time we crossed that desert was around four
o’clock in the morning. The morning light was just coming out, and
we saw thousands of birds flying high in the sky and singing. We were
forty or forty-five people and Massoud, and we sat there and listened
until the sun was up. We just sat quietly; nobody said a word.
When the sun came out, the birds disappeared and Massoud said,
“Look what things God created to give us pleasure. There is nothing
in this desert, and yet these birds are dancing and singing so
beautifully.” I will never forget that.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

PRODUCT OF AFGHANISTAN
Massoud was very much an amazing product of Afghanistan, and
Afghan culture is a very elegant culture. I think a lot of Westerners
might find that difficult to understand, because they associate
Afghanistan with poverty and fighting and weapons. But the Afghan
culture is a very refined culture.
(Anthony Davis)

SHOWERED BY CHOCOLATES
Massoud liked the poetry of my father very much. Once he asked me
if I remembered a certain poem. It was a very simple poem, between
classic and modern. It was something like this:

Come, come that you and I will go to the field,

Come that you and I will go close to the flowers.
Come that you and I will sit there
And I will bring you beautiful flowers,
Purple, yellow, black, white,
And I will make you a necklace.

Let the rain come gentle, slowly,

Over the flowers, over the trees,
Over you, over your hand, and over your beautiful clothes,
And I will watch your hair; I will watch you.

I want only nature, no one else,

I want nature to dominate, joy to dominate, laughter to dominate
Between you and me.
 It was something like that. It was long, and he was helping me
with the words.
He told me that he could not memorize poetry, but he could
remember it when I was reading it. He would follow the rhythm of the
poems, and would go up and up and say, “Ooh!” like a little boy who
is showered by chocolates and is trying to get this one and that one—
thinking, how many can I put in my pocket. I felt that he was so
innocent; he had this beautiful way, yet he was at war.
(Masood Khalili)

A VITAL NEED
My father spent most of our money on the best books: Saadi, Hafiz,
Bedil, Attar, Rumi. He was very interested in books, and all our gifts
were books. Massoud was busy with his studies in the university, but
even when he was busy he always had books. My father told us, “I
have a library, and you have to use it.” All the children did. One was
interested in Saadi, the other in Hafiz, another in Bedil. The whole
family read a lot.
At the beginning of the jihad, Massoud was always in the
mountains. When he came back, we, his sisters, wanted to wash his
clothes. He had a backpack—every mujahid had a backpack in the
Panjshir—and when we took his clothes to wash them, he had always
three or four books in the backpack. He was very busy with the war,
but he found time to read. It was like when you need to eat, reading
was for him an important need—essential, vital.
Once, early in the war, the mujahideen had to go up into the
mountains. We had to go with the whole family. Somebody from
France gave us a place to stay, and Massoud made one room only for
books, like a library. He had, like, six boxes of books at this time. He
had to take them all.
(Maryam Massoud)

DEEP IN HIS SOUL

He almost always had a poetry book in his pocket. Sometimes, when
people asked him questions or he had something to say, even about
the war and political issues, instead of using normal words he used
poetry. I think he had poetry deep in his soul.
(Reza Deghati)

WAR AND CULTURE

I was in charge of culture and the media for Tajikistan. During the
Resistance in 1996, Massoud provided a budget and salaries to have
an Afghani TV station in Tajikistan, and they broadcast culture—
literature, poetry, and music programs. Even though the situation was
so tough inside Afghanistan, Massoud emphasized those things. They
had a newspaper which was published weekly, a radio, and some
schools were established in Tajikistan so the children could work in
the framework of the Farsi language and culture. And there were also
programs of music for the people of Tajikistan.
I was very grateful to Massoud. He was in such a bad situation
financially and from the “civil war”—I shouldn’t call it a civil war
because it kind of wasn’t—but Massoud was under a lot of pressure,
and he still put this emphasis on culture and music in the Farsi
language. The TV technicians, anchormen, and staff have come back
to Kabul now, but they are thankful to Massoud that he kept them
going by providing the facilities to broadcast. For Massoud to support
our culture at the same time he was fighting the Taliban and Al-
Qaeda, that meant a lot.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

THE ART OF LEADERSHIP

When we were at school, my brother was a very good artist. I
remember when we were in sixth grade, the director of our school
came and said that an Iranian school asked if we could send symbols
for their school. They chose his painting of a girl who carried water
from the spring to her house.
Most successful leaders are artists, I think. If you don’t know the
art of how to lead your people, you will never succeed. You cannot
learn these things in school or even in the university.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

WHOLE SOUL OF THE MAN

Once Massoud and I were talking about Rumi and Hafiz and the most
important differences between them. I remember he said that each
showed different parts of the human being—that Rumi was more our
passionate side, while Hafiz was more epic and showed the struggle.
He said that in life we have both: the passionate man and the epic
man like a soldier, who must be ready to fight.
This was the Massoud I really tried to understand—the first man,
the man of culture. It has taken me seventeen years, from 1985 to
now, being with Massoud and talking with him, meeting him in
different moments, to realize that this was the whole soul of the man:
the poet.
(Reza Deghati)

“In 1993, Massoud created the Cooperative Mohammad Ghazali

Culture Foundation (Bonyad-e Farhangi wa Ta’wani Mohammad-e
Ghazali). He called upon all scientists, scholars, authors, and artists,
without regard to their ideologies, to participate in this foundation. Its
commission for women made it possible for female Afghan artists,
especially widows, to make a living through arts and crafts. The
department of family consultation was a free advisory board, which
was accessible seven days a week for the indigent. The foundation’s
department for distribution of auxiliary goods was the first partner of
the Red Cross.
“Twice a week for half a day, the physicians of the foundation
treated free of charge all patients who could not afford to pay. These
patients also got the necessary medicines for a very small cost,
sometimes free, from associated pharmacies. After Matbo’a ye
Dawlatti (the state publishing house) was burned down by Hezb-e
Islami, all newspapers, magazines, and weekly papers were printed by
the Ghazali Foundation printing house. Massoud wanted to ensure
freedom of press despite the difficult conditions. During the practice
of their honorary activities for the foundation, two of its members
were hit by Hezb-e Islami rockets and killed.
“Although Massoud was responsible for the financing of the
foundation, he did not interfere in its work.
“. . . Establishing this foundation was one of Massoud’s most
important achievements in the cultural field. He wanted cultural
institutions to create a common ground for mutual understanding, far
from political ideologies.”
(Mehran, “Ahmad Shah Massoud: A Biography”)

WHEN THE COMMANDERS

WOULDN’T LEAVE
The commanders often visited Massoud to ask for ammunition,
weapons, shoes, and food. Sometimes, Massoud did not have any of
these things to give them, and sometimes when he said, “I don’t have
it,” the commanders did not go home. They would be thinking, I
cannot go without any ammunition or food, and it would be ten or
eleven o’clock at night.
At those times, Massoud would take a book from his bookstand
and read to the commanders, and say, “I like this poem; I like this
book.” They would not be happy, because they wanted something
material and because they needed all those things. They were not
interested at the moment in hearing poems, and in thirty or forty
minutes, when they saw that Massoud was not going to give them
anything, they would go home.
For me it was very interesting, very funny. In my mind, if the
leader says I don’t have anything for you, you would just go home,
but instead Massoud would say, “Have some more tea,” and he
would read to them.
(Hiromi Nagakura)
 THE LAST WEEK
He spent the last week of his life with intellectuals and scholars. He
invited different Afghan personalities from inside and outside the
country to talk about creating a foundation that could gather together
all Afghan writers, poets, scholars within the country and from the
Afghan Diaspora outside the country. He was working toward
revitalizing Afghan cultural heritage in opposition to all the
destruction done by the Taliban.
(Yunnus Qanooni)

LIKE TWO POETS TALKING

Massoud and I were very close friends, brothers in arms, during the
war against the Soviets, fighting to liberate our homeland. Among
other reasons, our friendship was due to the fact that I am a poet and
Massoud loved poetry, especially the great Persian classics. In the
evenings, while we were traveling between villages, or between Kabul
and Jabul-Saraj, we talked about all kinds of things: mysticism,
philosophy, and we analyzed poetry.
In that realm we were very close, like two poets talking to each
other. Sometimes, he would ask me to explain a poem of Hafiz or
Rumi, and I would give him my interpretation of the meaning behind
the words. We got into some very hot discussions.
“It means this or that,” I would say.
“No! I disagree.”
“Yes, well that’s the way I see it.”
“But you could be mistaken!” etc., etc.
We could argue about a single word!
 (Abdul Latif Pedram)

TO REALLY KNOW PERSIAN

I was probably one of the only Westerners to be deeply grounded in
Islamic philosophy and mysticism and in the Islamic languages. This
meant that in my conversations with Massoud he was at first
surprised, then delighted, to see that I read the same Persian poets that
he read. When we spoke early on, he asked me, “Do you really know
Persian?” I said, “What do you mean—the ability to quote the poets?”
He said, “Of course. That’s what knowing Persian really means.”
(Professor Michael Barry)

TWO WORLDS TOGETHER

My brother Massoud loved Hafiz. Of course, he loved poetry of all
kinds, but he especially loved Hafiz. The way Hafiz put his words
together was extremely sweet, extremely meaningful, and, really, there
is something amazing about him.
Hafiz is not like some other Sufis who think about the other
world, but not this one. He explains beautifully about what a man
should do in this world, what a man should do in the other world,
and how the two worlds can exist together. So my brother read poems
from Hafiz, not only to read and listen, but to think about the deeper
meaning. That was just the way he was.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)
 WITH A CUP OF TEA
Midnight or noon, whenever there was time for a cup of tea, he would
take a book of Hafiz, and he would either recite from it or ask me to
do it. Then we would talk about it, mainly the things which apply to
human life today. To an outsider, to somebody who didn’t see and
talk with him, this wouldn’t make any sense because they had a
different perception; they thought he was someone else.
After his assassination, when I went to the room where he used to
sleep, I found the book of Hafiz which he read on his last evening. I
gave it, along with a few other belongings, to his family. It had been
sent to him from Iran, and he liked it more than any other.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

“Poetry was very important for my husband, and he awoke my taste

for it early in our marriage. I remember one poem in particular that
spoke of people who understand you without any need for words:

How sweet to have someone by my side

who understands the words of my heart
without the need to move my lips.

“He often recited that poem to me, for I adored guessing his
thoughts and anticipating his desires.
“I particularly liked a poem by Simin Bahbahani that spoke of
waiting:

Star of my heart, come quickly for the night begins to fall,

 “She ends the poem saying:

The heart of Simin is broken. Come back.

“One night, I learned it by heart. When he arrived at four in the

morning and saw that the table was set, he was very sad, for he had
forgotten we were supposed to eat together and had already had
dinner. But he kindly said to me, ‘I am so lucky; I am hungry and I did
not have a chance to eat.’ After our ablutions and prayers, I recited
the poem for him ending it with ‘Pari’s heart is broken. Come back.’
[Pari is short for Parigul, the nickname of Sediqa Massoud.] He was
so happy! With a beautiful smile he said, ‘If you recite such lovely
poems each time I am late, I will always make you wait for me.’
“My whole life is summed up in these words of Simin Bahbahani.
‘Night is drawing to its end, the first rays of sun are appearing and I
am ever waiting for you.’”
(Sediqa Massoud, quoted in Hachemi and Colombani, Pour
l’Amour de Massoud)
 10

A KIND HEART
Holy God of absolute power and wisdom,
I have this request of Your infinite grace:
Whoever’s been the recipient of Your kindness,
May his dignity be life-long. Don’t take it away.
—Khalilullah Khalili

To Massoud, every single being had a place under the

stars and a dignity in the eyes of God. It seems to me
that this feeling permeated every action of his life.
 WHAT ABOUT THE LAMBS?
We were coming into the Panjshir Valley. Massoud saw lambs being
herded by nomads called kochis, in the opposite direction from us.
The kochis usually travel in the summer to higher ground, and in the
winter they go down to warmer places. Now they were coming down
from the higher part of the valley.
Commander Massoud had the driver stop the car, and he asked
the sheepherder, “Why are you driving back?” The man said that he
didn’t have the necessary pass. (For security reasons, some
commanders handed out passes stating, I know this man and he does
not have any connection with the enemy.) The sheepherder had been
told by a soldier to go back and get the forgotten pass, so he had
begun herding all his lambs back.
The Commander went past the retreating lambs, but after a couple
of minutes, he said, “This man has made the mistake of forgetting his
letter, but what about the lambs? They are getting very tired, being
driven in the middle of the night.” Massoud drove back and told the
sheepherder that he should keep the flock where it was and send
someone else to get the letter, because it was not fair to the animals to
be driven so far.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

NO PROBLEM
We always slept in the same room; times were difficult, and we didn’t
have separate rooms. It was around one or two in the morning when I
finished my turn as a guard and went back to the room. One of our
friends was snoring, and I saw Massoud awake, lying on his back and
holding his hat over his ears with both hands. I thought he must not
want to wake up this friend and tell him, I can’t sleep, go to other
room, so I went to wake him up myself.
Massoud asked, “Is it his turn?” I said, “No, but he is snoring.”
Then I lied; I said that the man had asked me to wake him up in case
he snored because he didn’t want to bother his friends. But Massoud
said, “No, don’t touch him, don’t bother him. It’s no problem.” Our
friend probably snored until morning.
(Salih Registani)

FOR TWENTY-FIVE YEARS

Massoud told me that when the Panjshir Valley was under communist
occupation, he went to organize villages in the liberated areas.
Everybody said, “Where is your ammunition? Where will you get the
money? How will you feed your fighters?” And he didn’t have any
clear answers. His only plan was to act, then capture materials from
the enemy.
Finally, one man intervened and said, “In this village Massoud is
my guest. I will take responsibility for everything that is needed.”
Massoud said he was with the family for twenty days, and the family
fed all of his fighters who came in from the front. Then the man told
him they were out of livestock, that they had to use the two cows left
for milk to survive. About that time, some people from Kabul sent
money and the situation changed.
 That was twenty-five years ago, and until the day that man passed
away a few years back, he kept his respect for Massoud, and the
Commander always helped him whenever he could. He stayed aware
of the family’s circumstances, even when they moved to Pakistan a
few years after this story. Every year he sent a letter to them, and if
somebody was traveling there, Massoud asked about them. After the
man passed away, he kept in contact with his grown sons.
To Massoud, the fate of one family was important. Imagine
through all those years—the Russian occupation, the internal fighting,
and the Taliban—and still he did not lose sight of one family that had
helped him and the Resistance movement when they needed it. This
sort of gratitude was with him all the time.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

HOW NOT TO CLEAR MINES

In the northern areas, as a result of the fighting, there were many
mines. People suggested that we send herds of sheep into the areas
where the mines were so we could clear them that way. Massoud said,
“Why should we make those animals suffer? What did they do to us?
We have to clear the mines ourselves, and we have the ways and
people to do the job.”
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

TEARS
One night, in answer to someone’s question, Massoud told us, “There
were only two instances in the war when I cried. I will never forget
them.
“When Chernenko was president of the Soviet Union, there were
fierce air and land assaults by the Red Army and infantry, and cruel
armored onslaughts backed by field tanks. In order to avoid genocide,
we ordered the evacuation of the Panjshir Valley. The refugees,
particularly those in Kabul, were troubled by financial difficulties,
unemployment, and pressure from a regime which called them
‘Panjsheri refugees.’ After four or five months Russian attacks
declined, and representatives of the refugees asked that they be
allowed to return. We said yes.
“Less than a month later, our intelligence informed us of another
vast Russian attack being planned on Panjshir. Thousands of Russian
soldiers, tens of jets and gunship helicopters, artillery, field tanks, and
armored vehicles were to participate. The attack would start in a week
or ten days. I had no remedy but to order the area to be re-evacuated.
Refugees were still returning to their homes, and some had just
arrived, including children, women, the elderly, and the sick.
Tolerating the news to re-evacuate was such a hard thing for them.
Not able to walk and not having any money, many just sat beside the
road, put their heads on their knees, and cried. Seeing this filled my
eyes, too, with tears, and I prayed to God to bestow his mercy and
grace upon them.
“The second time was after the cease-fire. The Russians attacked
the Panjshir Valley with all their might and conquered almost all the
surrounding areas. There were constant killing, unending
bombardments, and burning houses and trees full of fruit. We took
refuge in the mountains, and from the high peaks as far as my eyes
could see, flames and smoke were everywhere in Panjshir. It was such
a horrible and sad scene, and I felt tears rolling down my cheeks.
Except for God Almighty, there was no one to listen to my cry.”
 (Daoud Zulali)

TO SURVIVE AGAINST A SUPERPOWER

In 1989, Massoud was drafting an army and a core group called the
Commando Group. I was with him—on several occasions—in the
room when he was accepting volunteers. The conditions were that
they should not be the only son, not the only breadwinner, not
married, to have the approval of the parents, to be at least eighteen
years of age, etc. He also made sure that all volunteers went back to
their villages after the battles, or during the break, to continue
farming, as that was the only way to survive against a superpower.
(Haron Amin)

FOREVER WITH ME
When Massoud came to Paris he brought a beautiful carpet—a big,
beautiful carpet. He took it to Léïla, the wife of Mehraboudin
Masstan.
She asked him, “Is this carpet for me, for the embassy, or for my
husband?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if it’s for the embassy it stays in this house, if it’s for my
husband it goes in his office, and if it’s for me it stays forever with
me.”
He said, “Of course, it’s for you.”
(Pilar-Hélène Surgers)
 THE DUCK FROM ANDARAB
In 1983, I was with Massoud in the Panjshir, and I told him,
“Tomorrow I want to rest and celebrate because it is my son’s
birthday.” He was going to be two years old.
The next day I was drinking tea with friends when Massoud
entered the house and said, “Come with me.” We went to another
house, and there was a dinner laid out with lots of food. He said,
“This is for your son’s birthday. Please, eat. And there is a duck from
Andarab, the valley where I met you eight years ago, which I asked to
be brought especially for you.”
I was not a journalist or a political analyst, I was just a friend. And
this was during the war.
(Jean-José Puig)

“Dear Brothers Engineer Eshaq and Ahmad Zia,

“Assalam alaikum.
“Fourteen brothers wounded by enemy land mines are being sent
to you. To every sensible Muslim, these wounded mujahideen must be
the dearest people on the face of the earth. They have sacrificed
everything they had in the cause of God and are the best examples of
true human beings of their time. I ask you to pay close attention to
their needs, physical and psychological, so that their battered hearts
can see glimpses of pleasure. . . .
“Most of them have lost their legs in attacks on enemy posts.
Efforts should be made to fit them with artificial limbs outside of
Pakistan. If Peshawar (Jami’at headquarters) is not ready to pay for
their limbs and travel expenses, I am ready to provide the money, no
matter how difficult it may be for us. Try your best and let me know.”
 (From a letter written by Ahmad Shah Massoud, October 2, 1982;
translated by Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

THE BULL
In my village, the Russians dropped bombs designed to look like toys,
and when the children grabbed them they exploded. Several of those
bombs were near a big bull when they exploded, and as we passed by
we could see that the bull was suffering. Massoud stopped, asked us
to clear the way, and put him out of his misery. He risked his life to
reach that animal so that he would not suffer any more.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

IT’S NOT SO HARD

A British man came to visit Massoud. When he woke up in the
morning, he felt very heavy and realized he had four or five blankets
over him. He looked around and saw a sleeping man who was holding
himself tightly and had no covers, and he realized it was Massoud.
Later, somebody asked Massoud why he had given all the covers
to the British man, and Massoud answered, “I have gotten used to
these circumstances, so it’s not so hard. His situation, on the other
hand, is different. He is accustomed to a better life, and the cold
affects him more.”
(Hamid Kandahari)
 WHAT UPSETS YOU?
During the war and the bombardments, killings, destruction, refugees,
once I asked Massoud, “What upsets you more than anything else?”
And he told me the plight of the people, the refugees. “When I see
those poor people with their belongings—they leave their houses to go
into the mountains. They have to stay days inside the caves, and with
very little—the children, women, old, young. That is one thing I
cannot tolerate.” He was a leader in warfare, but he had a very soft
heart.
Another thing that made him really angry was when a woman was
raped. And if somebody told him that a commander had been married
three times and was fifty years old and now he was marrying a
twenty-year-old girl, he felt terrible. He had a very soft spot for the
situation of women and girls.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

GREEN TEA WITH CARDAMOM

After the Russians were defeated, the mujahideen took power.
Massoud was the minister of defense, but he spent a lot of time in
Jabul-Saraj in the north, with his family. He told them, “I don’t like
titles. I want to work for my people, for my land, that’s all.”
When he was in Jabul-Saraj, sometimes women who were in
committees in Kabul went to see him. When they wanted to do
something in Kabul, they could do it, they had all the power to do it,
but they told each other, “No, we want to get advice from Massoud.
If he says yes, we will do it, if he says no, then we won’t.” They went
to Massoud because they expected more from him, and he was very
kind with them. He would ask, “What is your problem? What can I
do for you?” He was always ready to help them and never let them go
without eating something. He had them for lunch or dinner, and
afterwards, he offered them green tea with cardamom.
(Maryam Massoud)

HIS PERSONAL FILE

Once, two elderly people came to Massoud. They said that they had
run out of food and they wanted his permission to go to Nuristan,
north of Panjshir. It takes only two days to get there, but it is a very
cold area, especially in the winter, and the road is very hard. Massoud
told them, “Look, when you leave here it will be difficult. You have
children with you, you have women with you, you don’t have enough
horses to carry your belongings, and the winter will get cold.”
Without imposing his will on them, he explained to the point that they
were convinced that it was not a good idea.
Then Massoud asked the military commander in the village to help
the family, giving them part of the rations for the soldiers, and the
family stayed in the Panjshir. After that, Commander Massoud left for
the north, but throughout that winter he made sure, through the
military commander of the area, that the man received food enough to
live, to survive with his family. The next year when he came, he met
with those people and told them that instead of Nuristan, they could
go to Khost, a district in the north where people are friendly and help
displaced families, and also that they could earn a living there.
The minute he learned about someone’s situation, it became part
of his personal file. The fate of every human being was important to
him, even though at the same time he had the responsibility of the
whole country. That’s the point. If someone is a humanitarian worker,
of course he would care for human beings. It’s different when you are
leading a war and you have responsibility for the whole country, but
you still have that amount of caring.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

KEEN ON SAFETY
Three or four months after the beginning of the Russian invasion, I
was in Kabul, and I went to see Massoud by car in the Panjshir. The
city was under the control of the communist government, and I had a
letter from the mujahideen in the north to deliver to him. It was
written on toilet paper because of the danger of communist searches
on the way. They put the toilet paper inside my jacket, and if you
looked you couldn’t see it. When we got there we tore off the jacket
and gave Massoud the letter.
Massoud wrote a response, and I wanted to take it to Kabul and
from there to the north. He said, “No, it’s not safe. If they catch you
with this, your life will be in danger. It’s better if it is delivered to
Kabul by somebody else, and you pick it up there,” and it was done
that way. At that time I hadn’t even joined the mujahideen, but
Massoud still cared.
(Mohammad Shuaib)

A FABULOUS MEAL
One day somebody was visiting, and we were sitting with them. I
asked that some special food be made, and I paid with my own U.S.
dollars for it. It was going to be a fabulous meal for us, because we
don’t have good food in the mountains of Afghanistan. The food was
almost ready when Massoud got a call about some urgent matter. He
would have preferred to stay and eat his food, but he said, “No. I
must go; it is about people.” So he left.
(Haron Amin)

WHAT WAS IMPORTANT

One day, somebody got hurt badly. It was impossible to treat him in
the valley, so Massoud asked the commanders to prepare a horse to
take him out. Then he went and watched, to check how things were
prepared on the horse so it would be more comfortable for the injured
person. He was there for two hours, just to get ready to send
somebody to Pakistan.
He stood there until everything was to his complete satisfaction,
because he knew that other people might not care as much. He had so
many other things to do, but he spent all that time to make sure that
the injured person would be a little bit more comfortable.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

STOP THE CAR

He respected the older men, and many came to see him when they had
problems in their villages. Massoud also took charge of village
administration when there was no government post there. Many
commanders did not pay enough attention to that kind of thing in
their villages. They “respected the command,” but not from their
hearts, but Massoud took the time to talk with everybody who needed
him.
Massoud was using two jeeps that he had captured from the
Russians, and because they were open cars people knew that he was
coming. When they had a problem, they would try to stop the jeep.
Usually the commanders would say to the drivers, “Never mind; go
ahead.” But sometimes Massoud stopped the car, and if the problem
was urgent, he would step out and tell the driver to take the person
where he needed to go and then come back for him, but, “You must
take him first.” And he would start walking.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

YOU DECIDE
I had a brother younger than I who was killed. Then another of my
brothers volunteered to take a gun, but Massoud said, “I won’t give
the gun to him. I will give it to you. Take it to your home and follow
your own feeling whether to give it to him or not, but remember,
young boys are usually careless.” My brother wanted to do it so badly
that we could not stop him. I think he fought for two and a half
months before he was killed.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

HIS HANDS ON OUR SHOULDERS

I saw his hardships and difficulties, and I wondered how he could be
so strong and always smiling and tender to others. One day I went
with him to climb a mountain called Pew, because he wanted to see
the front line from the top. At that time I was the last person in the
group, and on the way I was taking pictures. Suddenly, Massoud came
back to where I was. He placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “In
this place there are mines. Don’t you want to go back to Japan? If you
step on a mine you cannot go home.” I could not say anything; I just
nodded. But Massoud worried.
Before we started to climb that mountain, one commander at the
post wanted to guide Massoud to the top, but when he tried to stand
up, Massoud took his shoulder and pushed him back. He said,
“Don’t. You need to stay here; you just recovered from malaria.”
Because the man “recovered,” he had come to the front line, but
maybe he was not doing so well, and Massoud knew that.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

NOW WE CAN FIGHT

The day before an attack, Massoud would make sure that all the
women and children were as safe as possible. He always placed more
forces in front of the places where they were hiding, then he would
say, “Now, we can go and fight the Russians.”
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

THE GIFT
One summer day when the whole of Panjshir was free of Soviet
domination, a man came and presented Massoud with thirty thousand
afghanis, (approximately three hundred U.S. dollars) wrapped in a
piece of cloth, quietly telling him an Afghan had sent it to him as a
gift. With a grin, Massoud told him, “May there be longevity to his
dwelling,” (an expression of well-wishing to him and his family) and
pointed to give the money to Tajuddin, a man who was close to him.
He told Tajuddin just to keep the money safe.
About a week after that, an old lady with grey hair came asking
for Amir Massoud. He wasn’t there, and she asked at what time he
would return. I did not know, so she said she would come back. She
showed up again that evening and, when she found out Massoud was
not back, said, “Son, tell him that I am a widow with no food to eat. I
have had no news from my son, who went to Iran for employment. I
leave the rest to you.” I told her I would give him the message and
gave her the little food that was available, and she left.
Amir Massoud came that night. He pulled off his army boots and
went to the brook that passed through the middle of his yard to do the
ablution before prayer. As he was drying his face and hands, I
approached him and reported the old lady’s message. He listened
carefully, put his hand on my shoulder, and told me to find Tajuddin
and tell him to pay her ten thousand afghanis from that money. This
was how Massoud was with his money, and this is one of hundreds of
stories showing the kind of relationship he had with his people.
(Daoud Zulali)
 11

PERSONAL IMPACT
It wasn’t that I joined Massoud. To me, it was more than that. You join a
group or you join a political party, but he was more.
—Farid Zikria

Again and again I heard from the Afghans and others

that their relationship with Massoud was like no
other. Although it was not easy for some of them to
express it, they all felt that there was something
different about him.
 LIKE MAGIC
No matter how angry a person was, how furious, if they said I am
going to talk with Massoud about this and I am going to yell at him,
when they met Massoud he always stood up and shook hands with
them. He had a habit that no matter who was in the room, he shook
hands, and as soon as Massoud shook a man’s hand you could see the
change in the man’s face. He would become mellow, and as calm as
could be. It was like magic.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

A SORT OF COMFORT
A few years ago, during an attack by the Taliban, their jeeps were
coming and there was bombing. It was night, and Massoud was
discussing the sale of emeralds with some people. This discussion
continued for two or three hours, and everything seemed almost
normal. We were laughing, and all these people were gathered around,
and it felt like a dream.
In the middle of all that chaos and depression, Massoud gave you
a kind of comfort that was unexpected. He would be laughing but he
was serious, and he somehow combined this seriousness with a sort of
easy life—being easy with the people around him, making jokes and
all that. Nobody mixed up the jokes with the real command, but it
was as if you were in the middle of the storm and found comfort.
 (Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

VISIT FROM A FRIEND

In 1983, President Babrak Karmal, the first communist president
under Soviet occupation, sent one of the directors of KHAD, the
Afghani KGB, to kill Massoud. His name was Kamran, and he was a
young man who had lived in the same neighborhood as Commander
Massoud and had some acquaintance with him. Karmal and Dr.
Najibullah, the head of information services, gave Kamran a pistol
with four poison bullets and a silencer, and Karmal told him, “Go
down to the Panjshir Valley and let Massoud think you are there just
as a neighbor. You will be admitted; then kill him and you will get
millions of dollars.”
So Kamran went to the valley. He spent a couple of days, bit by bit
moving closer. Within a few days he was inside Commander
Massoud’s group of companions. After a few more days, he was in
conversation with the Commander himself and asked him, “Do you
know why I am here?” Massoud said, “Why, you are a friend, you are
a neighbor, so you came by. There are dozens of people who come by.
I don’t ask; it’s completely normal.”
Kamran took out the revolver with the four bullets, saying, “I
came to kill you, but when I saw what goes on here, what you are
doing day and night, I couldn’t even think about it.” And he handed
over the pistol.
(Mehraboudin Masstan)

DIFFICULT TO LEAVE
Dr. Abdullah and another doctor, Abdul Rahman (he became the
second man after Massoud in the Panjshir Valley), were living in
Pakistan. They were working with different charity committees in
Peshawar as doctors. I sent them from Pakistan to the Panjshir Valley.
When they went to the Panjshir, they said, “We will go for five or
six months and come back,” but they ended up staying. Later, I said
to Dr. Abdullah, “You told me that you would stay for only five
months, but you stayed for years.” He said, “It is very difficult to
leave Massoud.” It doesn’t mean that Massoud forced them to stay
there or that they were obliged in any way. No, somehow he had such
good relationships with his followers that they respected him and
would never leave him.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

I NEVER IMAGINED
Once, Dr. Abdul Rahman (later the minister of aviation) told me that
two days after my first meeting with him, Commander Massoud said,
“I think I have found somebody who will be a good friend.” I was
concerned the first time that perhaps Massoud was less than what I
had thought he would be, but he grew on me through the years. I
doubted—am I right or not with these feelings? And always the
answer was, yes, I am right.
The first time I met Massoud was in September of 1985. From
then until September of 2001, I was with him and worked with him.
Before I met him, I had an image of him in my mind. From what I had
heard he was an ideal Resistance leader. The thing is, after I met him
that impression only got stronger and stronger as the days passed. I
found things in him that I never imagined. I was impressed by his
attitude and by his behavior—as a friend, a leader of the country, and
a commander. The whole story is a big memory which keeps me going
in the work, even now.
For a quarter of a century, Massoud dedicated his life to this
country without asking anything for himself. It wasn’t just his political
and military roles, but the impact that he left on me and others, his
human qualities and values. He was a leader against terrorism and a
politician, but on the other hand, he was a very good friend, and
whenever we had time we used to talk about poetry, art, life, sports,
and all other aspects of life. He never lost his morale. Even in the
middle of the war and the suffering, he kept his sense of humor. He
respected human beings, enemies and friends, so that you would
imagine they were the same.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

WE HEARD HE WAS ON OUR SIDE

I remember once there was very bad fighting in the Panjshir; the
Russians were attacking from all over. Massoud was in the south of
the valley and we were in the north, and we were really losing it.
Massoud had been in hiding, and we hadn’t heard from him for
two weeks. It was the worst time of my life—we were basically losing
the war, and we were thinking to move out and go somewhere else. At
that time we didn’t have radio communication—he had to go village
to village to talk to people, to give people courage, saying, “I am here.
Keep fighting! The Russians cannot beat us.”
Then, somehow we heard that Massoud had come to the north of
the valley too, and we were so encouraged that we took back all the
positions we had lost in half an hour! We didn’t even see Massoud; we
just heard he was on our side, so we knew we were going to win.
Everybody’s spirits were on the roof. We continued fighting, and we
won that whole battle in two days.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

WE WERE AFRAID
Most of the success and harmony in the Panjshir is due to Massoud’s
personality. If he had not been there, it is very clear that the Panjshir
would not have achieved such a good reputation during and after the
jihad.
So what was Massoud’s secret? Why did he have this personality?
He had very particular characteristics and different dimensions. He
was not naive or simple; he was very kind but hard at the same time.
That is why the people around him, all his followers, and even I, who
was his brother, we all respected him. But we were also afraid of him.
Yes, we were afraid of Massoud, but it was not fear that we would
be punished. In that case, I would have simply left. When I say that we
were afraid of him, I mean we were trying to do our best to show
Massoud that there was nothing wrong with us. That was it—nothing
wrong. We wanted to be our best for him.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

I FORGOT
The people around Massoud were very polite, those young
commanders, the young mujahideen, polite, clean, and nice, and I saw
that they were under difficult conditions. The war was harsh in that
part of Afghanistan. There were bombardments every night and every
day, but the people were not afraid.
After a few months, I too forgot the fear. I was amazed, because
before I went to Afghanistan I wasn’t sure if I would be killed or not,
and it was very intense. But after a few weeks of being with Massoud,
I completely forgot the fear of being killed.
(Daoud Mir)

AIMING HIGH
In childhood you are trying to figure out what is your character, so
you think, I am this or I am that. My idea was: I want to be like
Massoud. I did not want to be a doctor or an engineer; I just wanted
to be like Massoud, who shared with people with a clear heart, so
brave and strong, and gave people the feeling that things made sense.
(Eisa Khan Ayoob Ayoobi)

ON THE TALIBAN FRONT LINE

I recall one of the commanders of the mujahideen in the Mazar-i-
Sharif region of the North, told me that on the day when Commander
Massoud was assassinated, some of the Taliban soldiers on the front
line cried. Someone asked them, “Why are you crying?” And one of
them answered, “That man . . . he would have been able to achieve
great things. If he is dead, it is sad.”
(Mehraboudin Masstan)
 DISCOMBOBULATED
The first time I met Massoud, we shook hands. Engineer Eshaq was
there, and he asked me to translate. I was in the middle of translating
the first statement, and I totally blanked out and started to stutter. I
mean, this was the person that I had come so far to see, and I went for
a month and ended staying two years! The second they introduced
him to me I began to stutter. Generals and people that have a
thousand men under them—Massoud would come and began to talk
to them, and they would start to shake.
(Haron Amin)

I DIDN’T SPEAK HIS LANGUAGE

In my first experience in northern Afghanistan I was with Massoud off
and on for six weeks. He was sick, physically—he had back problems
and a terrible cold. You don’t expect that in people who have a place
in history, but he did. He was incredibly sick, and he was in the
middle of an intense battle with the Taliban and trying to orchestrate
the offensive.
I did not speak his language, but I was able to watch his impact on
others. People revered him. I even found myself experiencing that
feeling. I am at a loss to explain why, but there was something about
him. He had an energy, an intensity, a dignity that was immediate and
powerful and had an effect on everyone around him. When he was
talking I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Something about him was just
captivating. Obviously, he had that effect on many people; that was
one of the reasons he was such an effective leader.
(Sebastian Junger)
 STUCK LIKE GLUE
Whenever I was in a place where Massoud was, my eyes were stuck to
him. I mean, I could not see anything else. When he peeled an apple,
when he ate, when he talked, when he touched his face—no matter
what he did my eyes were stuck like glue to him. I could not move
them away. Even while I was listening to someone else, my eyes were
on him. It’s something . . . I cannot tell you why.
You know Sebastian Junger. I translated his article “The Lion in
the Winter” into Farsi. When I got to the point where he said that
whenever he looked at Massoud he could not turn his face away, that
when you looked at him you got glued to him. . . . When I read that in
Sebastian Junger I said, “I have exactly the same feeling!”
Because I try to speak the truth and stand for the truth, I like
people who are honest and down to earth. That is what I saw in
Massoud. He belonged to the people. He wanted to defend the truth,
and he was fighting for them. I think it was because of those feelings
that I paid attention to him.
(Farid Amin)

INFINITE PAINS
When we got to the Panjshir, the Russians were bombing the valley.
We met Massoud, and it struck me then that, although he was facing
a lot, he was still very calm, cool, and collected, very impressive. He
said, “I have very good intelligence and the Russians are getting ready
to launch a major ground attack.” We spoke what I would call good
schoolboy French. He was obviously very busy, but he took the time
to talk with us and said, “I am very glad you are here. You’ve come a
long way, and we will give you all the help we can.” He sent us to
another side of the valley, to be away from the Russian attacks.
He was absolutely brilliant, I thought, and never seemed to panic,
although they were having quite a rough time because the Russians
sent a lot of troops into the valley, and there was bombing all the
time. He didn’t seem to lose his cool, and he planned everything very
carefully. If he was doing an operation or an attack, he considered
where the mines were, where the forces were, where the machine guns
were, and he had a deserter from the government who gave him more
details. So he made this table and briefed his commanders in detail on
how the attack would operate and which commander would do what.
You had to see him operate it to realize this was a man who took
infinite pains to get it right.
(Sandy Gall)

AN EXTRAORDINARY VANTAGE POINT

I recall one night in the Hindu Kush, at about five thousand meters
[over sixteen thousand feet]—it must have been around midnight.
Massoud and I were both on horseback with the mujahideen behind
us, and we spoke of the time before all the fighting started.
The war raged on, but talking with him I felt as if I were totally
free. From this extraordinary vantage point, it seemed as if our forces
controlled all of Afghanistan, and I was elated. To me, Commander
Massoud was like a Ghandi, Che Guevara, or Nelson Mandela who
fought for freedom. I never forgot that splendid night in his company.
(Abdul Latif Pedram)
 FIVE MINUTES WITH HIM
Sometimes people would go and ask Massoud for something just as an
excuse to see him. They would be with him for five minutes and walk
away with energy for a lifetime. They would go back to their villages
and say, “Oh God, I saw him, and this is what he said.” And they
would all go and pray extra, as their way of making a contribution.
People would come early in the morning, walking, and lining up to
see him. It was a boost of energy for Massoud just to ask you,
“Would you do this for God?” and you would be convinced in a way
that only a charismatic individual can convince. I witnessed this a
hundred times.
Or, for example, he might have promised one of his commanders a
certain amount of money or supplies. Then he would count the money
and say, “We can only give you this amount. Take it, go and do the
best you can with it. We don’t have the rest now, but when we have it
in the future I will give it to you.” And that commander would leave
with plenty of hope, would go into battle, and would win.
(Haron Amin)

VALUABLE
When I was in Kabul, people came to me, especially old people, and
said that at such-and-such a time and place, I was with Massoud and
he gave me this letter with his signature. And these people had kept
the letters in nice plastic because they were so valuable to them.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)
 HIGH IN THE TALIBAN RANKS
When Massoud died, for a week the people in our country did not
know. We kept his death secret, because we were afraid that if we
didn’t, the Taliban would capture all our land. Without Massoud the
enemy seemed invincible.
After a week, the world knew that he had died. Then, when one of
the Taliban said, “We should be happy because Mr. Massoud was
killed,” the second or third person in the ranks of the Taliban regime
slapped his colleague and told him, “Don’t be happy. When Massoud
was alive, Afghanistan was alive.” I don’t want to say his name,
because he was very important in the Taliban.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
In our culture, if a man is killed while on the right path, we think of
him as somebody who was happy. Although it is a loss of life, we take
pride in somebody like that. Sometimes we offered condolences to the
families of the people who were killed in the fight against the
Russians, but not often, because they were embarrassed that we did it.
The division between right and wrong was very clear.
When they killed Commander Massoud, though, it was completely
different. It affected the life of every person in the country.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)
 12

THE MAN AND

HIS OPPONENTS
Love is the creed I hold: wherever turn
His camels, Love is still my creed and faith.
—Ibn El-Arabi
(From Idries Shah, The Sufis, Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1964, 165)

The power of Massoud’s presence was not limited to

his friends and companions. He also made an impact
on his enemies.
 ARE YOU MUSLIMS?
Muslem Hayat told me that one day the commanders brought a Soviet
prisoner to Massoud. The man was shivering, because it was very cold
outside, and instead of paying attention to who he was or what he had
done, Massoud said to his commanders, “Aren’t you Muslims? Look
at him! He is shivering, he is shaking. Why don’t you give him
something to wear?” Only afterwards did he begin to hear the
prisoner’s story.
If you read Islam, you will find a story about a woman who was
granted entrance to paradise because she had given water to a dying
dog. Our tradition says that if you let your neighbor go to bed with an
empty stomach, you are not a Muslim.
(Farid Amin)

THE WORK OF VIRTUE

In a mujahideen ambush at an enemy base, a large number of fighters
were captured. Among them was a widely known and high-ranking
officer of the Communist Party. Following the initial investigation,
our fighters who knew him well were complaining of the atrocities he
had committed and insisting that he face justice.
Massoud, after a long silence, said, “Brothers, killing a person is
an easy thing. He will fall on the ground just by our pulling the
trigger. It is not a work of virtue. The work of virtue and excellence in
life, rather, would be to forgive. If we do the same as our enemy does,
then what difference will there be between us?” We were all quiet, for
we knew he was right.
That prisoner was freed and after some time joined the Kabul
regime, but this time he worked in cooperation with those loyal to the
Resistance.
(Daoud Zulali)

THAT WAS VERY STRANGE

Massoud treated his prisoners well. This happened to such an extent
that sometimes prisoners came with their guards to his house, asking
for special meetings. They would tell him that they just wanted to talk
with him, and Massoud would ask the guards to leave. That was very
strange in a country like Afghanistan.
These were the sorts of things for which even his enemies respected
him, because he treated them well and at the same time he was honest
and he kept his promises. If you see Russian books, you will find that
they often say bad things about Afghanistan, but they say Massoud
was a good example, that he was straight and did not play games.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

JUST AFGHANS
When I reached the Salang and met my friends, they had a lot of
criticism of Massoud’s soldiers in Andarab, and they asked me to
transmit it to Massoud. I told him it was not the commanders but
their soldiers who behaved incorrectly, so “Tell them to be fair with
the Andarabis.” He said, “I understand the mujahideen, because the
Andarabis have not been very supportive, but you are right. We need
to be for the Afghans and not only for the Panjsheris.”
After this, there was a big Soviet offensive in Andarab, and of
course they played on the lukewarm feelings of the Andarabis—for a
month. Then they told the locals, “If you are with us, you must fight
Massoud.” They conscripted young men from fourteen to forty and
sent them to fight.
Massoud captured them but did not hurt them, all those young
people. He gave them money, a certain amount of afghanis to each
one, and told them, “You can go back to Andarab. You are not
prisoners, you are just Afghans.” I know the story from both sides,
from Andarab and the Panjshir.
(Jean-José Puig)

WHEN MASSOUD CAME TO KABUL

I was in Kabul in 1992 with Médecins du Monde when Massoud
entered the city. I found it extremely interesting that the communist
generals in Kabul surrendered the city to Massoud rather than to any
of his rivals, because they received amnesty from Massoud. The way
he extended amnesty to the entire communist bureaucracy in Kabul
meant that the city paid allegiance to him intact. He even allowed the
communist president, Najibullah, to take refuge in the United Nations
compound and did not touch him.
(Professor Michael Barry)

PEOPLE ARE CRITICIZING

When Massoud started the Resistance against the Russians, there were
communists from the Panjshir who went to work for the communist
government in Kabul. One day I told Massoud, “People are criticizing
you,” and he asked why. I said, “Because the communists from the
Panjshir who are working in Kabul—none of them were killed by you
when you were in Kabul. Why is that?”
He said, “There are thousands of people working for the
government in Kabul. It is not my policy to be a terrorist and kill
people. To fight against the enemy is one thing, but I am not a
terrorist.” On the other hand, he told me, “Look, these communists in
Kabul, they believed in socialism and they believed that we would
have a social revolution. They did not know that communism in
Afghanistan was going to be in the hands of Russia. They have been
put in the middle between the Russians and the mujahideen. If we
have a policy, it is that we accept them.”
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

A DANGEROUS THING TO DO
Once, some friends from Badakhshan gave out a list of twenty-five
names of people who worked for the communist regime. A council of
mujahideen decided to put these people to death. I asked them why,
and they said because they are communists, collaborators, and so on. I
called Commander Massoud for an explanation. The decision was
frightening to him. He said, “I disapprove. That would be a very
dangerous thing to do.”
During the time Massoud controlled Kabul, not one of the
prisoners from the Communist Party, nor any who fought against
him, was ever put to death. This was very important in a country
which had been at war for years. He said very clearly: “I am against
killing anyone because they believe in communism, liberalism, or any
other ‘isms.’”
(Abdul Latif Pedram)

IT WAS JOLTING
Once Massoud told me, “We’re going to eat at someone’s house, but
you are the one who has to chat with him because I am not going to
say a word.” I didn’t understand. We went to a house—the nicest in
the neighborhood—and there he had set up the brother of the
communist president, Najibullah, the worst of his enemies. It was the
best place to protect this man and his wife and child at the time.
The wife was extremely liberated, an old communist militant. I
understood why Massoud did not want to go eat with them. He was
shy in this type of situation, and the way this woman carried herself
was very liberal—not just from the point of view of how she dressed,
but it was jolting. In an Afghan village, a woman who would not let
the men get a word in edgewise? Her husband could have formed an
association of oppressed husbands. But we stayed rather late, and
Massoud paid careful attention that this family should not feel bad. I
think this was difficult for him, but he did it all the same.
The man’s brother, the communist president of the republic, had
asked Massoud for his protection, and Massoud’s emissaries went to
Pakistan to make sure that the Pakistani Secret Service did not bother
this family, and that as soon as they arrived, passports would be ready
so they could leave for a Western country. When Massoud had
assured himself of these two conditions, he told the family to leave the
region, and to this day they are in the U.S. because of what he did.
 (Humayun Tandar)

DÉJÀ VU
Massoud, remembering his youth, said, “When I was young, Dr.
Najibullah and I lived in Karte Parwan in Kabul, and I was fond of
soccer. Dr. Najibullah always said that the soccer court belonged to
him and his team, but my team usually used it. That was the reason
for a dispute that started between him and me. Dr. Najibullah
gathered his team and attacked us, but my team defeated them with
stones, sticks, and slings.
“Then there came a time when he became the president of
Afghanistan, and I fought him and his Russian supporters in the
mountains of this country. Again, Dr. Najibullah wanted to eliminate
me from his path. He not only asked the Russian generals to attack
me in the Panjshir, he sent scores of Afghan army troops to capture
me, but again, he did not succeed.”
(Ahmad Shah Farzan)

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASY

Think of this: Amidst the wartime hostility, which had no limits, no
morals, no ethics, Massoud once had the opportunity to capture
Najibullah, who, let us not forget, had been at one time the head of
the Secret Service, and who had tortured and killed Massoud’s closest
friends. It would have been extremely easy to kill him. To the
contrary, Massoud worked out a budget for the food and well-being
of this man.
 (Humayun Tandar)

NEVER DO THAT AGAIN

Once they were moving cars, and one of the soldiers took his machine
gun and started firing at Massoud’s car. They immediately captured
the soldier. Then Massoud came over and asked him, “Why did you
do that?” And he took the arm of the soldier and told him, “Look,
never do that again; that’s something you just shouldn’t do. I know
that somebody in the village has told you to do it, but don’t do it
again!” And he released the man. We could not believe it! I can tell
you that many who came with the mission of assassinating Massoud
were released by him.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

FOR A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

In the middle of the war against the Soviets, they saw a man pointing
a Kalashnikov at Massoud, so they overpowered him and put him in
jail. When they asked him why he did it, he said he was contacted by
government people in Kabul who told him if he would kill
Commander Massoud they would give him a beautiful woman to
marry.
The mujahideen released him. That just does not happen in
Afghanistan, that somebody like that is released, but Massoud said he
was not mentally balanced.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)
 THE YOUNG TALIB
Once, there was a young Taliban fighter, and the question was
whether he was going to be sent to jail. Massoud said, “No, because
he did not have time to learn any better. He should go to school
instead.”
(Dr. Mohammad Sidiq)

THE PERSONAL TOUCH

In 1996, when the Taliban came to Shariazar, west of Kabul, and then
captured Kabul, Massoud and Muslem Hayat went to see them.
Muslem told me that he had only a small pistol, and Massoud went to
meet them without anything. He had no protection at all; they could
have done anything to him. Why did he do that? Because he wanted to
reach them. Because he knew that this war was for no reason. He had
talked with them by walkie-talkie and phone, but he thought going
personally would make a difference.
(Farid Amin)

“Mullah Yar Mohammad, a Taliban leader, said after being released

from imprisonment by Massoud’s troops, ‘Massoud really is the son
of the Afghan nation. . . .’”
(Mehran, “Ahmad Shah Massoud: A Biography.”)
 FRESH IS FRESH
I found that the Commander was a man who didn’t have bad
intentions towards anybody. Towards Hekmatyar, even, he did not
have bad intentions, although many times he asked me, “Why does he
do that? Why does he not come to the side of the people?”
When Hekmatyar said he would come to Kabul, Massoud was one
of the first to agree, “Why should he not come to Kabul and be prime
minister?” I remember I said to him, “After he fired all these rockets
and caused all that killing and tried to destroy Kabul, why should he
be allowed to come back?” He said, “Well, fresh is fresh. Maybe he
has done wrong, and now he will do good. You never know the future
of people. Look, the man says he will come back and be good. Why
should I have bad intentions toward him because of his past?”
I never found any kind of revenge in his heart toward anyone. He
was sad and angry sometimes, but he never told me he couldn’t
forgive someone, or that he would take revenge. His attitude was, if
an enemy comes and says I can treat you well now, you don’t look for
revenge; you have forgiveness. You are happy, and you get on with it.
I saw it happen many times.
It was because Commander Massoud was looking through his own
heart that he didn’t have bad intentions, and he thought that nobody
else had them either. Many times he said, “Well, people can change,
even the Russians.” You know his bodyguard was a former Russian
soldier, Islamuddin.
(Masood Khalili)

AMIDST THE DAILY VIOLENCE

We have this idea that we call the insaan-e-kaamel, the complete man,
and even in mysticism the objective is to arrive at this level. Massoud
was one of those personalities who tended toward that dimension. No
one he met felt indifferent towards him. Some adored him, some
detested him, and some made war against him. It’s interesting to note
that amidst all the daily violence, he had forgiveness and tolerance,
and he even courted those who tried to assassinate him.
When he got fed up with eating poorly, with foregoing life’s
pleasures—he loved food but often he didn’t have any—he would
locate a village with a house where he knew he could eat well.
Anyway, there was a man to whose house Massoud would sometimes
go to eat. The Secret Service from Kabul convinced this man to poison
the food the next time he came, but Massoud was forewarned. He
told this man to leave the valley because he couldn’t trust him any
longer. Then what did Massoud do? He safeguarded the man’s
journey to Pakistan, rented his own house to him and his family, and
paid him a monthly salary.
(Humayun Tandar)

EVEN MASSOUD’S BROTHER

When Abdul Rashid Dostum took power in Mazar-i-Sharif, he jailed
some of the mujahideen and treated them very badly, but Massoud
never thought, I will do the same to Dostum. One of Massoud’s
brothers was killed in Pakistan and many people suspected
Hekmatyar. In a country like Afghanistan, where personal revenge is
so important, I never heard Massoud say anything about it. He was
the kind of person who was looking far away. His goal was to unify
and rebuild the country.
 (Haroun Mir)

WHEN DOSTUM DEFECTED

Dostum was with the communists and that style of life. When he
defected from them, he came to see Massoud and had a discussion
with him. Massoud said, “I have some advice for you. You have done
something good and sided with the people. Now you should abandon
drinking, because leaders should be like the people, and in Islam the
people do not drink.” Dostum followed his advice, and afterwards he
told Massoud he felt healthier and more alive. But later he returned to
his old habits.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?

There were differences between Hekmatyar and Massoud. Massoud
never ever depended on other countries. Massoud welcomed people’s
help, but before he accepted it he asked, “With what conditions? If
you expect to get something from me, go help somebody else.”
Hekmatyar was 100 percent supported by Pakistan and the CIA, and
Dostum was supported by the communists.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

“I told the Taliban delegations that came here for talks with us in the
Panjsher, that you claim to represent the Pashtun tribes—fine, we
agree. You say that the majority of Afghanistan is under our control—
we agree. You say that the people accept us—we agree. Fine, if there is
such level of confidence—then let’s go toward elections. You [the
Taliban] claim to hold the majority backed by popular acceptance;
then what are you worried about? In place of so much warfare and
bloodshed, move toward elections and legitimately attain power. Our
position is still the same. We did not and do not consider a military
option as the solution. . . .”
(Interview with Commander Ahmad Shah Massoud by journalists
and representatives of the “Women on the Road to Afghanistan”
Conference, Azadi Afghan Radio, August 7, 2000, www.afghan-
web.com/documents/int-masood.html)

WE HAVE MADE A BIG MISTAKE

My brother-in-law told me that every Friday in the mosque where he
went in Peshawar, the mullah talked against Massoud, saying that he
was an infidel and a servant of the CIA, and that he wished Massoud
would die. After September 11 and after the Commander was killed,
he was at that mosque, and the mullah spoke again about the
Commander in a bad way.
That day, a man stood up in the mosque, a tall man with a big,
long beard and big eyes (he was Pakistani Taliban), and he said, “I am
sorry to tell you that we have all made a big mistake. I was a prisoner
in Afghanistan, and one day Commander Massoud came to our
prison. He said, ‘I am Commander Massoud. Whenever your food is
not good or my boys hit you, insult you, or you are abused in any
way, you tell me. I tell you this in front of everybody. Keep in mind
that you are prisoners, but you are human beings. If you are made
sad, in the next world God will ask me about it and I’ll be punished. If
I have good food and you have bad food, I will be punished.’”
The Talib told that mullah, “I can’t believe what you are saying
about him. He was full of smiles and full of forgiveness. He even
shook hands with us. There was a boy there who was thirteen years
old. Massoud said, ‘It’s not right that you are in prison. Let him out.
Go boy, you should not be here.’ In front of the boy, he said, ‘I came
here to fight you. Well, you cannot kill me; I have lots of people. But
you go back to your country. I promise that when the Taliban are
gone, I will call you and invite you to my home and you and I will talk
forever.’ And the boy was released.” And the Taliban man said again
to the mullah, “You are wrong.”
(Masood Khalili)

TWO DIFFERENT BRAINS

I was with Reza Deghati, a photographer, and he was able to translate
for me. Massoud and I sat facing each other in two chairs, and we had
cameras on us. He was very busy, so I felt a little bad to take an hour
of his time.
I had to ask him about an incident in Kabul in the ’90s where
some Hazaras were massacred, and there were men under Massoud’s
command that did that. My understanding was that this was not
ordered by him, and was even without his knowledge, but they were
men under his command and I had to ask him. He answered that it
was a chaotic situation, and some very bad things were happening in
Kabul that he really regretted, but it wasn’t something that he would
have ever ordered himself. And I believe that.
 If, basically, you are the kind of commander that can order a
massacre of civilians it doesn’t happen only once in your career. In a
violent situation like Afghanistan, you would see abuses over and over
again. Abuses happen in the U.S. military, and this is the Afghan
militias, and the chain of command is just terrible. I mean there isn’t a
chain of command.
They told me they had taken some Russian prisoners. One of the
Russians with a machine gun had killed a number of Afghans, and the
Afghans started to beat him. Massoud grabbed the guy who was
beating this Russian prisoner and punched him and knocked him
down and said, “This man is just doing his job the way you do your
job, and I never want you to raise your hand against a prisoner
again.” In my mind that same person could not order a massacre of
civilians—just two different brains.
And here is another example. We went to see the prisoners—he
had some Taliban prisoners in what wasn’t even a prison but a stone
house, escorted by four soldiers. And when we got there, they had just
brought back an Uzbeck who had escaped three days earlier into the
mountains and was chased down and captured. There was not a mark
on him. If you escape from the police in Los Angeles you at least have
a black eye.
As a journalist you have to be skeptical, particularly with people
you want to like. So I said, “Okay, Massoud is a wonderful guy, but
let’s be on guard.” But I thought later, if this guy does not have a
mark on him, in my mind that means Massoud had some very high
ideals that he was able to impart to the society that he was running.
(Sebastian Junger)

THE CAPTURE OF SAYED JALIL

Once in Tang’i Farahar, near Bagram, Massoud’s commanders were
assaulted by Sayed Jalil, a Hezb-i-Islami commander, on their way to
a meeting in the north. My brother Haron was supposed to be part of
their group, but Massoud had needed him so he did not go. On the
way, there is a place called the gorge of Farkhar, and there Sayed Jalil
slaughtered all thirty-six men. It was such a horrible story. Thirty-six
very good commanders lost their lives at the same time, and the jihad
was in great disarray.
Afterwards, Jalil’s base was taken. He was captured, and Massoud
and some other people were waiting when the mujahideen brought
him in. Jalil had no shoes, his clothes were sort of ripped, he looked
all dusty, and he was without a hat or turban. Massoud said to the
mujahideen, “What is wrong with you? He was the commander of a
group. You have humiliated him. Let him wash and dress and then
bring him back. This is not right.” And they took him out and
brought him back with respect. Massoud said, “The court will judge
against him or for him, but you do not have the right to humiliate
him.”
(Farid Amin)

LITTLE GESTURES
For me the way a world leader treats his prisoners reveals everything
about him or her. Massoud treated his prisoners with such
compassion that Soviet soldiers preferred to surrender to him over
anybody else, or to desert and go to his side. Back in the ’80s, I was
involved in negotiations where Russian soldiers held by Massoud were
helped to escape to Pakistan with French journalists so they could
look like French journalists and ultimately find political asylum in the
West. Even though Massoud and his people were terribly poor and
had very little to eat themselves, their Russian prisoners were fed no
worse.
You just had these little gestures. One Russian prisoner was about
to be taken to Pakistan, and Massoud himself gave Nikolai a camera
so he would look like a journalist, and a warm sweater to go over the
mountains. When I found this out I was extremely impressed, because
I knew about the way prisoners were horribly treated by other
mujahideen groups. Commanders who torture and kill, if they come
into power, they create a tyranny—it never fails. You can judge the
way a future politician will be by the way he behaves in combat
conditions in the Resistance.
(Professor Michael Barry)

“‘I had serious political conflicts with him over the years. We were not
friends,’ said Abdul Bahir Turkestani, an aide to northern Uzbek
warlord Adbul Rashid Dostum. ‘But with his death, I had to admit he
was a good man.’”
(Juliette Terzieff, “Pilgrimage Honors Slain Afghan Hero:
Massood’s Shrine Thronged a Year After His Death,” September 8,
2002, www.SFGate.com)

A VEHEMENT DISPUTE
Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, as a student activist and a member of Jamiat-e
Islami at the time, was convinced that terrorism would make the
group successful. I noticed that he did not exclude bombs, acid
attacks, and assassination of political enemies as means to achieve its
goals. Even then [in the mid-1970s], Massoud voiced his dislike of
extremism, and he and Hekmatyar had vehement disputes because of
Massoud’s absolute opposition to acts of terrorism. He saw in them
the destruction of the very people he wanted to serve.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

WHAT GOOD NEWS?

One of Hekmatyar’s commanders was killed by the Russians in
Parwan in 1984, and somebody said to Massoud, “I have good news.
Niardi, one of the commanders of Hekmatyar, was killed.” Massoud
was surprised. “That is good news to you? Niardi wanted to defend
Afghanistan. He did not know about Hekmatyar’s intention. He was a
good man and it’s not good news for me.”
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

NOT A COMMANDER
I challenged Hekmatyar when he said, “We, the mujahideen, don’t
have disputes among ourselves.” It was complete rubbish; of course
they did. I said, “If you really want to show that you are collaborating
as you say, why don’t we go with your people and take the matter to
the people of Abdul Haq [a Pashtun leader], then go to Massoud’s
people and do the same.” Of course, he never wanted to do that.
I knew him very well. Hekmatyar was the first “commander” that
I met in Afghanistan in 1979. He was a politician, not a commander,
a very sly, conniving politician who would do anything to claim
victory, and was completely unabashed about it. Anything that served
his purpose he would do. And he got rid of intellectuals, but I always
made a point to have discussions with him. He had a good
organization, but he was not a man of inspiration.
On the other hand, I would describe Massoud foremost as a
commander, and as a politician only in the sense that he knew he had
to have the people on his side. But he was not a politician in the sense
that he was just setting himself up for power.
(Edward Girardet)

WHAT HEKMATYAR SAID

Even as early as the Resistance against the Russians, Hekmatyar was
fighting against Massoud and his mujahideen. At first, Hekmatyar
tried to prove that Massoud was not a Muslim. Before the Soviet
regime, in Daoud’s government, Hekmatyar told people that Massoud
was a spy for the government. He also said Massoud was a French
spy. In 1982, when he did the cease-fire with the Russian army,
Hekmatyar said that Massoud was with the KGB. Then, in 1992,
when they took Kabul, Hekmatyar used to say that Massoud was a
Tajik nationalist, that he cared only about his people, not about
Afghanistan. Massoud was a Sunni, and Hekmatyar said he was not a
Sunni but a Shia, which was like saying a Catholic is a Protestant. And
at the end he said Massoud was working for India.
Then we had to leave Kabul. When we were at Jabul-Saraj, after
all that, Massoud ordered a helicopter to take Hekmatyar to a safe
place in Takhar province. I was there when it happened.
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)
 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT
The Taliban took Mazar-i-Sharif, north of Kabul, while Mr. Rabbani
and Hekmatyar were there. Mr. Rabbani was president of the Islamic
State of Afghanistan at the time, and Hekmatyar was a renegade
leader who opposed the government.
I was with Massoud after the evening prayers. A helicopter came,
and after a few minutes, a couple of cars stopped by the compound
and two people got out: Rabbani and Hekmatyar. They had escaped
from Mazar-i-Sharif.
Hekmatyar, who fought Massoud from 1992 to 1996, before the
Taliban took over Kabul, had accused Massoud again and again of
wanting to assassinate him. As he was walking towards Massoud with
Rabbani, I waited to see the reaction from Massoud, how he would
receive a person who had accused him for so long. He stood up,
walked towards them, and hugged them both in the Afghan tradition.
After serving Hekmatyar Afghan tea and food, he called Mr.
Fahim and ordered him to take Hekmatyar to a special guesthouse,
and to place a group of soldiers there to protect him. He also gave
orders not to let other soldiers pass near the guesthouse, so
Hekmatyar would be safe, and he told them to make him very
comfortable and take care of him. Next morning I found out that
Hekmatyar did not sleep that whole night. He had accused Massoud
so many times that he was scared something was going to happen now
that he was Massoud’s guest, and he walked around the compound all
night long.
Since the Taliban was at that time very close, the next morning
Massoud ordered a special helicopter to pick up Hekmatyar and
Rabbani and take them to Badakhshan, another province, and from
there to transport them to Iran, where they could be safe.
 The night Hekmatyar was in the compound, I said jokingly to
Massoud, “This man has said so many times that you are going to
assassinate him, and he has tried to assassinate you many times, why
don’t you take care of him tonight?”
Massoud smiled—I remember that special smile on his face—and
he replied, “I have no doubt that this guy has been my enemy and he
has no good intentions when it comes to me or Afghanistan, but that
is not our Afghan culture; it would be inhumane. This is a humane
way of dealing with it.” Then he said, “Stop joking about this and go
take care of your business. Don’t worry about what I am doing.”
After Hekmatyar was transported safely to Badakhshan and then
to Iran, he started the same propaganda against Massoud.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

ON ANOTHER LEVEL
Massoud’s enemies envied him, but eventually they realized that
between them and him there was a huge gap which could not be filled,
a gap in personality and in character. At the beginning, Dostum
thought Massoud would make him a good rival, but later on, even he
realized that, no, you cannot be a rival of Massoud because he is on
another level. Hekmatyar was in Iran, and of course he thought he
was better than all Afghans, so he was an exception. But all the other
leaders—Dostum, Karim Khalili, and all of them—learned this about
Massoud.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)
“[I]n a very real sense, Massoud helped liberate the Russians too, by
forcing their dictatorship to come to a military end, at long last, in the
mountains and valleys of Panjshêr.”
(Excerpted from a speech by Professor Michael Barry, “Thoughts
on Commander Massoud,” at the Afghan Embassy in London, on
September 9, 2003, published in Omaid Weekly 12, nos. 595–96,
September 2003)

AN UNUSUAL VISIT
In 2003, the Russian defense minister, Sergei Ivanov, came on an
official trip to Kabul, and he asked to visit the shrine of Massoud.
Fahim and other people were there when he went, and it was a very
emotional moment. Ivanov said he had a lot of respect for Massoud.
(Mehraboudin Masstan)
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Reza Deghati
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Mary Patricia Quin

Massoud signing the Declaration of the Essential Rights of Afghan Women, in 2000.
Among the women, seated to his left, is Chekeba Hachemi.
© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura

© Reza Deghati
© Masood Khalili
Massoud with one of his closest companions, Masood Khalili, son of the most
prominent contemporary Afghan poet, Khalilullah Khalili.

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura
© Reza Deghati
© Omaid Weekly

© Reza Deghati
Massoud speaking in the European Parliament in 2000. Sitting on his left is the
president of the European Parliament, Nicole Fontaine. Sitting on his right is Dr.
Abdullah Abdullah, one of his closest companions.

© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura
© Hiromi Nagakura
 13

IN THE NAME OF GOD

The heart of the Believer
Disdains fear of stormy events.
The Believer’s heart knows
Only one ship captain: God.
—Khalilullah Khalili
 HE WENT ALONE
Massoud was walking alone without a gun, even though it was very
dangerous. His friends were shocked that he would go by himself, but
Massoud told them that he trusted God, and that if God wanted to
take him nothing could help him anyway.
(Anonymous)

WE THOUGHT IT WAS THE END

Sometimes the other countries stopped helping us, and we, his
secretaries, knew that. We knew, and we thought it would be the end.
Between 1998 and 1999, the Taliban captured the lands of, for
example, Dostum and Khalili, and the only force left against Al-Qaeda
was us. The others stopped helping us because they thought that the
Taliban was going to capture all of Afghanistan.
Our enemy was absolutely different from us. They were so
powerful and we were so poor, and they had the Pakistani ISI behind
them. But Massoud always said that God would help us, and I have to
write that He always did.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

THE VOICE FROM THE WALNUT TREE

One night, we were sleeping in Massoud’s small house. At three or
four o’clock I went out to the toilet, because there was not a good
toilet in the house. It was completely dark—no light, no moon—but
there is one big tree in his garden, a walnut tree. When I was coming
back to the house in the dark, I heard a voice coming from that tree. I
was surprised and thought, somebody is there, let’s listen. I tried to
listen very carefully, and soon I understood it was Massoud. He was
praying verses of the Koran: “Ar Rahman, Ar Rahim” (The
Beneficent, The Merciful), and he moved around the big tree. I
couldn’t talk to him—I would have disturbed him—but I understood
that when Massoud had a problem he talked to God.
To me, Massoud was a very good Muslim, and really good
Muslims are few—always trying to have contact with God, to talk to
God. The Japanese, we pray sometimes, but it’s just a custom, and for
most Muslims praying is also just a custom. But for Massoud it was
not a custom; his contact with God was very important.
In the beginning, in 1983, he slept an average of four hours per
night, but in 1999, when the Taliban started the offensive against him,
he slept two hours at the most, sometimes not at all, and he could still
do his job.
I asked why. I always asked. He is not a superman; sometimes he
gets very tired. When I gave him massages, at the beginning he had
muscles, “meat,” but when I did massage on him in 1999 and 2000,
his muscles were going away, and he had become thin. He had hard
times and he couldn’t sleep. He was very busy, but I think that he
could do all that because he believed in God so much.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

JUST TWO HOURS TO SLEEP

He trusted God and was always thinking about Him, even when he
made small decisions. If I do this, what would God think? During
those years I never saw him sleep without praying, and I remember
many nights when he didn’t sleep more than one or two hours.
Very different—he had just two hours to sleep, but he would take
fifteen or twenty minutes to pray. Imagine how much he loved his
God! In my opinion, his success was because he really loved God.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

OPIUM OF THE PEOPLE

One very beautiful day, Massoud came with us to the mouth of the
Paryan Valley. There we stayed for the night. That night, we talked
about many things, mainly about how to reach the outside world.
That was the time when we thought, if we could not reach the world,
then we would either fail in this war against the Soviet Union or it
would drag on and on—we’d die, and our kids would grow up, and
then our grandsons would see it. We had been under a kind of
psychological domination by the Soviets. We were talking about
Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, Romania, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Albania,
Estonia, Yugoslavia. Once a Soviet country, always a Soviet country—
that was in the back of our minds. So, oh God, if that’s the case, what
should we do? The Soviet propaganda was very effective.
At that time, the atmosphere in Afghanistan was to some extent
ready for new ideas, intellectual ideas, but to us “intellectual” tended
to mean socialism. An important concept that prevented some
intellectuals from thinking along those lines was, if you go with
socialism you lose your faith because religion is the opium of the
people. It wasn’t the books of communism that concerned us—Marx
may have been a great philosopher in his time, and Hegel, too—but
our perception of communism was that in their philosophy our
religion and faith were like opium.
Now that they had invaded Afghanistan, we had to not lose our
faith, to not lose our religion, to not lose our moderate way of
worshipping God. Ultimately, we thought, and the majority of the
people in Afghanistan still think, that it is God in which you take
refuge.
So the Russians invaded, and people like Massoud, who were
moderate Muslims, believed that ours was more than just a liberation
movement. Love of your land makes you a freedom fighter, but love
of faith makes you a holy warrior. That was the mixture twenty-five
years ago. God was important; the faith was in our hearts.
(Masood Khalili)

THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE PLAN

Though Massoud was a devoted mujahid of Islam and a brave man of
the battlefield, he also was a spiritual human being. He planned his
military, political, and social programs on a map for implementation,
using his effort and his human abilities. Then, he turned everything
over to his God, saying, “Here is what we have done. Victory and
success are within your power. Oh Allah, help us.”
(Daoud Zulali)

WHAT IS PERMANENT
One day Massoud was explaining about Islam, and he said something
like this: “There are three ways to recognize your God. One we
inherited from our ancestors. If you ask 90 percent of people why they
are Muslims, they would say, because my ancestors were Muslims.
Second is raah-e-shariat, the rules Islam teaches to its followers. In
that way you get Hadith [accounts of what the Prophet Mohammad
did, said, and approved in others], and through that knowledge you
reach God. Third, you have to be a lover, and through love you reach
God and see your Beloved. This is the way of tasawuf.” And Massoud
was a lover of his God, not of Islam in the hands of politicians.
In his job, God was before him, because he established a link—if it
makes God happy, I will do it. This work for him was a path to reach
the next level. He thought we should not believe in things that are not
long-lasting, which means life in this world. It is not permanent; it is
temporary. He asked why we should sacrifice the things that are
permanent for something that is only temporary?
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

“There is a polish for everything,

and the polish for the heart is the remembrance of God.”
—Saying of the Prophet Mohammad

REMEMBRANCE
I read the book of spiritual guidance which he read, The Alchemy of
Happiness from Al-Ghazali. Move out hatred from the mujahid, no
hatred. If you hate, you are not a mujahid. Very beautiful. You have
to quell your emotions, your anger, your lust, your feelings of
vengeance.
Every evening, after hosting all his officers, visitors, or diplomats,
he would retire for half an hour with only his closest friends and he
would indulge in what Islamic mysticism calls “remembrance,” the
remembrance of God. He would just lean his forehead against his
fingertips for fifteen minutes or half an hour of mystical meditation, in
which he would empty his heart of all anxiety, all anger, all
frustrations. When he lifted his forehead again it was as if he had slept
for hours.
(Professor Michael Barry)

THE GREATEST THING

The greatest thing I remember about Massoud is his constant
education of his close colleagues. I had the opportunity to be in his
house, and after dinner I saw that he would talk to them about the
essence of life, its purpose. He knew that everything in this world is
ephemeral. There were so many people grasping for power and
wanting material things. All the commanders wanted to have houses
and travel around the world, but Massoud never dreamed of anything
like that. He had a direct communication with God. I have never seen
a man like him.
(Haroun Mir)

MASSOUD WASN’T TALKING

The year before, in Pakistan, I had met Rabbani and other people who
were apparently talking about Islam, always Islam. But Massoud
wasn’t talking about Islam, he was practicing Islam for himself,
almost as a mystic person, as a kind of Sufi.
I remember it was very hard for me to wake up at 5 a.m. for
morning prayers because I wasn’t a military person, and for the first
three years I was there, sometimes I couldn’t do it. Around Massoud,
nobody insisted that I had to pray, not like those around extremists
such as Hekmatyar. But the people around Massoud were deeply
religious, and Massoud himself didn’t miss any prayers.
Sometimes I saw Massoud talking, and I had the impression that
he was talking with God. I saw him one night during a very
complicated situation, and he just went off to walk alone. When he
had to think about something, he walked alone, walked for long
distances. He always asked the bodyguards to stay back, and after
reading the Koran or praying, he would talk, he and God.
(Daoud Mir)

UNDER THE AFGHAN MOON

The moon in Afghanistan is so bright and of a beautiful silver color,
especially when you are in the mountains. You feel that you are
touching the moon, it’s so close. And the stars are hanging like grapes
in front of you, and you can count them and almost play with them.
You talk to them and sing with them, and your ideas flow like air. It
takes you up and down, and you forget the war—you forget
everything.
One night Massoud and I finished our talk about three o’clock. I
got a blanket to go to sleep, but there was no room. There was only
something like a cave, small, but enough for two people. That night
there was a beautiful moon, very bright—I think it was the sixteenth
day of the moon—and the light was sparkling into our cave.
I remember that I was half asleep when I heard some movement,
and when I looked Massoud had just left. After ten minutes, he came
back, sat down, and covered himself with a blanket, and I realized
that he was praying there in the middle of the night. Before his
prayers, he had gone out to do the ablution—to wash his hands, face,
and mouth. If you wash at that time of night you can freeze. In such a
case, most people don’t want to pray, not because of laziness but just
because of the water.
The next morning when he came for prayers, I mentioned what
had happened. He just said, “I am so sorry if I woke you up. I tried
not to.”
Later, I wrote in my diary about this man who pretends to be
sleeping but leaves his semi-warm bed, walks under the moonlight
down to the valley—a ten minute walk—to wash his hands and mouth
based on religious tradition, and comes all the way back up the
mountain. And then he doesn’t want to wake you up! He covers
himself with a blanket and murmurs something. What he said that
night—he was “remembering.” I think he had the idea that in the
middle of the night you worship God with your heart, because you
don’t have any book to read.
Anyway, I envied him. I was so lazy I couldn’t do it, but I thought
it was beautiful. I remember I also prayed. I said, “Oh God,” indeed.
(Masood Khalili)

THE LOUDEST PRAYER

He was not a normal person in my opinion. I will never forget when
the Taliban, Pakistan, and Al-Qaeda captured all of Afghanistan
except the Panjshir. It was afternoon, and we were in the mountains
between Panjshir and the Shamali Plains. We had seen the cars of the
Taliban, Al-Qaeda, and Pakistan coming forward with their weapons.
They were destroying homes, schools, and towns, and they killed
children, women, and elderly people. We had no more energy in the
Panjshir to resist.
At the afternoon prayers, we normally prayed quietly, but on this
day Massoud prayed loudly. When he was finished, he told us not to
follow him, and he went over to another mountain without
bodyguards, then he cried out and asked God for help. He said,
“Please help us. We haven’t got weapons, we haven’t got tanks.”
Actually, we didn’t see him cry, but when he came back his eyes were
red. It was the first time I ever saw that he had been crying.
Our enemies were not a small group; they took down the towers in
New York City. They had everything, and we had only God. But after
that, everything changed. Some other countries gave us money and
some helped with weapons.
Although the help came from the neighboring countries, Massoud
always said that they helped us partly for their own safety, because if
the Taliban, Al-Qaeda, and Pakistanis captured our country, after that
their plan was to take Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, and the rest. He said
that God helped us through them, so it was God we had to thank.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

REZA (DEGHATI): “You have been fighting for twenty years. And
during this time, each time that I have come here, some more of your
friends and your companions have unfortunately been martyred. How
do you view death? How have you kept these losses in your heart?
How have you endured?”

MASSOUD: “[Truly], the martyrdom of these friends and these

brothers who spent a lifetime in the Resistance together with us is
difficult to tolerate. But, there are some things that we are forced to
endure. First, it is because of the morale of the others—so that their
morale is not weakened. And while it is a lot of pressure, it must be
endured in order to reach our goal and preserve the morale of our
people.
“More importantly, the thing that makes it possible for us to
endure, not only the martyr’s sacrifice but also other great hardships,
is trust in God. It is complete submission to the will of God. And
whenever something happens we say that God wanted it to be so, and
so it was—and we must not waste time repining over it.”
(Massoud, Into the Forbidden Zone, tapes 275–76)

WHY THEY KILLED HIM

At the time Massoud was killed, we were facing an insult to Islam, a
thousand-year-old belief. There was fanaticism, intolerance,
totalitarianism. I think this phase [the incursion and rule of the
Taliban] did more to Massoud than the war against the Soviets,
because what he believed in most deeply was being disfigured.
He was up against people who had betrayed the message for which
he fought. He was a counterexample to their fanaticism, and I think
that was the most important fight he led. It was not only a fight for
the freedom of the land or for prevailing over the enemy, he was
safeguarding his own culture, the expression of his people’s faith,
which had been passed down through the centuries. I think that is
why they killed him—because he represented an opposition which was
not so much material as spiritual and religious.
(Humayun Tandar)

CRITICAL LINKS
In the first half of the sixteenth century, Roman Catholicism had
reached such a state of moral abjectness that I wonder how it was able
to survive. Then you find Antonio de Montesinos, a Dominican priest,
who stood up on a pulpit on Christmas Day in 1507, looked at the
Spanish colonists on the Island of Santo Domingo, and said, “I will
not give you communion, and I will not give you absolution because
of what you are doing to your fellow humans on the pretext that they
are not Christians. It’s unworthy of human beings, unworthy of
Christ. You enslave people, you massacre people. You are here only
for your own greed. You pretend to be Christians, but I banish you
from this church.”
Although I am not a Roman Catholic by tradition, I am Catholic
by culture because I grew up in France and speak French and Spanish
and Italian, and I know that tiny group of Dominican priests of
Antonio de Montesinos maintained the link between the Catholicism
we have today and the original church of Christ. If it were not for a
few people like them, the whole religion might as well have committed
suicide.
Massoud and the people immediately around him were such a
group. They maintained the connection between the Islam of the
Golden Age and a future, regenerated Islam. They appeared in our
time and were put to death. I don’t fear to say this, because my
commitment to Massoud was based on long reflection. It was a
profound and spiritual commitment, not just a humanitarian accident.
Massoud and his little group were models; they were exemplary.
(Professor Michael Barry)
 14

ROOM FOR ALL

Massoud: “For me, north, south, Persian, Pashto is absolutely meaningless.
In our home, we can talk in every language.”
—Farzana Mehran, “Ahmad Shah Massoud, a Biography,”
www.afgha.com, 2006

A cup of tea with a Western reporter, a walk with a

Jewish friend, a chat with a child who came to see him
. . . the immense universe of Massoud in the remote
land of the Panjshir he loved.
 A WIDER SKY
Massoud was someone who had no local attachment whatsoever. It
was like his sky. It could not be just the narrow sky of the Panjshir.
His entire struggle, his fight, his desire could not be limited to one
valley. He wanted to breathe; he wanted to go throughout the
different regions, to go among all ethnic groups, to go here and there
between every cultural and linguistic group.
Strictures of language, ethnicity, region were stifling for him. His
personality and character were beyond all that. That is why, in a
society which had never really known definition as a nation, he
wanted to create a unity which could surpass the situation in which
we found ourselves and still find ourselves to this day. His way of
approaching the spiritual dimension, traditionalism, modernism,
enlargement—until him we had never really thought about all that.
(Humayun Tandar)

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS HAPPENING?

We talked on the phone almost every day. Massoud did not talk about
Afghan issues, he talked about world issues. He wanted more
information about exactly what had happened in every part of the
world. I had expected that he would be so concentrated on
Afghanistan that he would not have the time to hear what happened
in other places, but he did.
 I was amazed that somebody calling from the center of the Afghan
Resistance, somebody with so many problems, was asking: What are
the new discoveries? What is happening in the rest of the world? What
are the political and social issues?
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

BROTHERS
Five or six times, Massoud invited me to prayers, so I prayed with
them. Most of the times Massoud led and later we would go to
dinner. Massoud asked me to do what we call les graces in French—to
thank God for the meal. Many times he said, “Jean-José, we believe in
the same God. Please, tell us the prayer before lunch or dinner in your
own language.” Michael Barry, who is Jewish, was also asked to lead
prayers.
Later on, with the propaganda and proselytizing of extreme
groups, it changed, but in Afghanistan during the war against the
Soviets, no matter if we were Jewish, Christian, Muslim, we were all
brothers. It’s hard for people to believe now, but it was like that.
(Jean-José Puig)

EAST AND WEST

We had great discussions, often until two or three in the morning and
always with a translator. Actually, I think Massoud understood more
English than he let on. He also understood the connection between the
East and the West. He was the first one to tell me that in Islam you
were supposed to acknowledge and befriend the “people of the
Book,” the Christians and Jews. He understood, as many did not, that
we worship and recognize the same God, that we have the same moral
values.
One night he asked me what I thought Jesus’s purpose on earth
was. I said that as Catholics, as Christians, we were taught to believe
that Jesus came to save us, but also to reinforce what was good in the
understanding of God from the Old Testament, and to correct what
was wrong. Massoud agreed enthusiastically with that. He said that
absolutely it was his understanding also.
(Richard Mackenzie)

THE ONLY COMMANDER

He was active in human rights and wanted women to have as much
education as they could get, to have a place in the government, and
the right to vote. Massoud acted on his beliefs. He was the only
commander in Afghanistan who allowed a French woman doctor into
the country to treat people. In 1980, when Dr. Laumonnier went to
the Panjshir, there were three women who went, and they were there
for three months. He was really happy with them because they helped
the women. There are three women now in the interim government,
and that was Massoud’s idea too.
I have a cousin who was at the university in Kabul who was
related to Massoud by marriage. She said Massoud sent her a message
asking her to study medicine, and she did. She finished her degree, and
now she is a pediatrician. She moved to the Panjshir the first thing
when she finished her education.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)
“Masoud is adamant that in Afghanistan women have suffered
oppression for generations. He says that ‘the cultural environment of
the country suffocates women. But the Taliban exacerbate this with
oppression.’ His most ambitious project is to shatter this cultural
prejudice and so give more space, freedom and equality to women—
they would have the same rights as men.
“This means giving Afghan women the chance to study. Masoud
even wants to build a university in the Panjshir Valley besides
developing more schools for women. ‘But these are things that I can
do only step by step.’ For him, ‘women themselves also have to follow
an evolution, and this could take one generation, maybe two. . . .’ His
eagerness for more opening contrasts with a 95 percent illiteracy rate
among women across the country. Many are still enveloped in the
chadri because the culture is like that. Masoud recognizes the hurdles.
. . .”
(Escobar, “Masoud: From Warrior to Statesman”)

FOR ALL OF US
One day I said, “Ahmad Shah, I am really surprised you didn’t ask me
about my background, my family. You tell me practically all your
secrets without any security.” He laughed a little bit, because he really
enjoyed humor, and said that it was not only his country, it was my
country too. He said, “I am not doing this for myself; it’s for all of us.
If I am not here someday, you will continue, other people will
continue. We have to work together.” And he told me about Shura-e-
Nezar.
 At that time Massoud was very upset about the ethnic clashes in
Afghanistan. I asked him a lot of questions because I had come from
France and was not aware of the problems of ethnicity in Afghanistan.
He said the reason he worked with Shura-e-Nezar was to make a
council with all commanders, Pashtun, Uzbek, Hazara, and Tajik—all
the ethnic groups. “We are in contact with practically everybody,” he
told me. His goal was to have an organization that included every
Afghan, not only Tajiks or Panjsheris.
(Daoud Mir)

THE LAY OF THE LAND

Abdul Haq, a Pashtun leader, had quite a curious relationship with
Massoud, a combination of admiration and jealousy. He knew that a
lot of people admired Massoud, and though at times he was dismissive
of Massoud, he also realized that they had to work together. Both
were quite open-minded. I would not say they were intellectuals, but
they were intelligent men. They knew very well what the lay of the
land was, the dangers and the challenges of combining the roles of
commander and politician. I think they had mutual admiration.
(Edward Girardet)

THE TASTE OF PIG

At breakfast one time Massoud asked me, “What’s the taste of pig?”
When I said, “Pork is no good,” they all laughed. Pig meat and
whiskey are prohibited for Muslims. He didn’t say, like some
Muslims, “Oh the Japanese are dirty because they eat pig and drink
whiskey. Japan is very bad.” He said, “Maybe he eats pig in Japan,
and maybe he sometimes drinks alcohol. It’s okay.”
He wasn’t blaming. He just wanted to know, and maybe to bring a
little humor, because at the time the Taliban had them surrounded,
and they had no ammunition, no money, no fuel. So he just laughed
with the others. He was interested in everything, and he never
compared his values with others. I could have stayed with Massoud
for a long time.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT

We arrived very late at one of his bases in Taloqan. The house was
full of mujahideen, and a couple of Arabs were there. I was pointed to
a spot where I could lay down and rest, and one of the Arabs started
ranting and saying that they were not going to sleep next to a
Catholic. I just said to a mujahideen I was with, “It’s a beautiful night
and I am going to sleep outside. Let’s not make a big fuss.” But he
said, “No, no, no!”
The next thing, I heard boots stamping down the hallway, and the
door burst opened. It was a commander of Massoud, and he turned to
the mujahideen and asked, “What’s going on?” They told him what
had happened. This commander literally picked up the Arab, threw
him against the wall, and told him, “You don’t ever speak to a guest
of mine like that! Get over there,” and he pointed to another spot in
the room that was open. Then he turned to me and said, “Sleep,” just
one word, “sleep,” and went back to what he was doing.
I told Massoud about it later. He broke up laughing and said,
“That’s good, that’s good. That’s what I would expect from a
commander of mine.”
(Richard Mackenzie)

“Massoud’s patience was infinite and I never heard him raise his
voice. Except once. A commander was just coming out of his office,
and Ahmad, who was often present at the meetings, asked him, ‘Dad,
is he an Uzbek? He has a funny accent.’ My husband, who never made
an impatient gesture toward his children, took him by the ear and told
him angrily, ‘He is an Afghan, as you and I are; I never want you to
speak like that again!’ My son still remembers that moment.”
(Sediqa Massoud, quoted in Hachemi and Colombani, Pour
L’amour de Massoud, 191)

A LITTLE VEIL UPON THEIR HEADS

In ’92, when all of the Resistance forces came to Kabul, in the bosom
of the Resistance the mentality was very hard. Certain chiefs made a
sort of edict: This is an Islamic state; no more women on television.
And for several weeks we did not see any women on television.
At the end of three or four weeks, Commander Massoud took the
responsibility of ordering that women be returned to the screen—with
a little veil upon their heads, of course. This was almost a miracle. He
said, “This has to be done, and if there is a problem, let them come
talk to me.” From that moment television took its normal course.
(Mehraboudin Masstan)
 THE RELUCTANT BRIDE
The parents of a very young woman and man arranged their wedding.
The two were married, but without the consent of the woman. After
two or three months, she sent her brother to Massoud with this
message: My parents gave me to this man but I hate him; I don’t love
him.
Massoud called the man to his office and told him, “I received a
message from your wife, saying that she doesn’t love you.” The man
denied it, saying, “I love my wife, and everything is okay.” Massoud
told him that he would investigate, sending a delegation of people he
trusted to talk with the wife again. When they visited her, she sobbed
and repeated: “I hate this man; he is a bad man. I don’t love him, and
I don’t want to live with him. My mother and father received a lot of
money for our marriage, but I hate him.”
After that, Massoud called the husband. He said, “I sent a
delegation to talk to your wife and she disagrees with what you told
me.” He spoke softly and not sternly, in order not to scare the young
man. He continued, “You are a young man and you have very little
experience. You’ll live maybe until you are seventy years old. If she
doesn’t like you, how can you live with her?” The man insisted that it
was not true, so Massoud said, “I will seat you face to face and we
will see.”
And Massoud did exactly that. He called husband and wife
together and in front of her husband, the wife repeated, “I hate you; I
don’t love you.” Massoud told the man, “You need to give her a
divorce.” The man objected, “I will never do that!” Massoud said,
“Your wife hates you, and she had said this in front of you. You
should understand that only you can exercise your rights, but you
must do it in a humane way. I will send you to jail until you decide.”
(To Massoud, there was nothing worse than treating a person like an
object.)
He did send the man to jail. And after two or three days, the man
went to the court and agreed to divorce his wife.
(Salih Registani)

A MESSAGE TO WOMEN
In April of 1992, the communist regime was overthrown. Soon after
capturing Kabul, Massoud appointed a woman doctor as chief of the
medical academy to send a message that we supported women and
that we wanted women to have a role in the reconstruction efforts of
Afghanistan.
(Commander Bismillah Khan)

ON EQUAL FOOTING
He believed in quite a few things other people did not. He did not
think about specific people or just about Afghanistan; his vision was
for all of humanity. He had a high vision for human beings as
creations of God. He did not classify people on the basis of ethnicity,
nationality, or religion or anything like that. Although he was a
devoted Muslim, he put everybody on equal footing.
I asked him, “You are devout; what do you think happens with the
non-Muslims? What is the final place where they go after this world?”
Many Muslims believe that Muslims will be saved and non-Muslims
will not. I just wanted to know what he was thinking.
 He said, “No, that’s not the case. Whoever is a good human being,
that’s what is important, no matter which is their religion.” He said
there are a lot of devils among the Muslims, and a lot of good people
who are non-Muslims. “You cannot say that God will bless the
Muslims and not the rest. What is more important is what kind of a
human being he is.” He had a very strong view on the subject.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

ANY KIND OF PEOPLE

Massoud was a leader, but with children he was a child and with the
community he was a community member. As a fighter he was the best
in the world. As a thinker he was the best. He knew a lot about
religion, but, although he said our religion is Islam, he didn’t act like a
fanatic. He was modern; he talked with people of all levels. A group
of communists would come to see him and then a cleric. He would go
to a farm and talk there about farming, or sheep. He fit into every
category and could blend with any kind of people.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

“It is our conviction and we believe that both men and women are
created by the Almighty. Both are human beings; both have equal
rights. Women can pursue an education, women can pursue a career,
and women can play a role in society—just like men. This was our
belief, and it continues to be our belief. In the future of Afghanistan, if
it is the will of God that the Taliban will be struck down, and a
moderate government comes into power, undoubtedly women will be
respected and highly valued.”
 (Massoud, interviewed in Into the Forbidden Zone)

THE TRUE MUJAHIDEEN

In a meeting of Afghans in Peshawar, everyone made speeches against
the Western countries, against non-Muslims. The true mujahideen, the
people who fought with their blood, were really open-minded people,
but in Peshawar, most of the people were associated with big
ideologies, were very political, and were always against some religion
or some other people. I never heard that kind of division inside
Afghanistan. On the contrary, Massoud was very interested to learn
more about Western countries, European countries, all other
countries.
(Daoud Mir)

THE FRUITS OF TOLERANCE

Because of Massoud’s tolerance, Karim Arakam, who was an Ismaeli,
became one of his best friends. Massoud had done everything to save
the Ismaeli Shia in Kabul from extermination by the Taliban. And
how do you think Massoud was able to come to Paris? In the private
airplane of Arakam.
(Professor Michael Barry)

BEHIND THE LINES

Women were actively involved during the Resistance, not in the front
lines but behind them. From the Shamali Plains to Taloqan and
Badakhshan, all through Massoud’s territory, they were true helpers
of those soldiers who were loyal to Massoud and to the people of
Afghanistan.
The women’s role was not only to feed the soldiers; there were
times that women actually carried weapons to the front line for their
men to fight. Aside from that, there were educated women within the
Massoud-controlled areas who convened seminars and conventions to
make known to the people of the world the plight of Afghan women
and the Resistance against the Taliban and Al-Qaeda. In Massoud’s
territory, educated women were in the schools to teach children, and
in the hospitals there were women doctors. Women were also active in
social and political issues.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

ARE YOU READY TO SEND YOUR DAUGHTERS?

Before the taking of Kabul, a BBC journalist interviewed Commander
Massoud. During that time the subject of women’s rights was a
burning topic, and the journalist posed the question: “What is your
vision for Afghan women?”
Massoud said, “My vision is that it be normal for Afghan women
to retake their places, their natural lives, and that girls be able to go to
school, to work, and to perform all of the things they are able to.”
The journalist asked, “Would you accept this for your own
daughters?”
“Yes, of course. My daughters must go to school,” Massoud
replied.
 Then the journalist asked, “But when all is said and done, in
Afghanistan they cannot enroll in higher education. Are you ready to
send your daughters to study abroad?”
Commander Massoud reflected for a few seconds, then said, “Yes,
anywhere except the Soviet Union.”
(Mehraboudin Masstan)

NOW WE CAN EAT

I got married before Massoud, and I did not see him for two years or
more. In 1991, after the Russians were defeated, I was in Pakistan and
Massoud was in Kabul. I came back to see him but I did not see his
wife, and I was ready to meet my sister-in-law.
We sat to eat, and everything was there, ready for the meal. The
whole family was together, but Massoud did not start eating, and
nobody else would start out of respect for him. I did not know why he
was waiting, but Massoud was waiting for his wife. When she came,
Massoud told everybody that now they could begin. I was very happy
to see how much respect he had for her. He respected all women,
though, not just his sisters and his wife.
(Maryam Massoud)

LOVERS AND FRIENDS

Massoud and his wife loved each other very much. They lived like two
lovers, yet very close friends, not like other leaders who are like
dictators with their wives and children. Unfortunately, the situation
did not allow Massoud’s wife to be in public and do interviews.
 (Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

YOU CAN PRAY LATER

They started to pray at 4:30 or 5 in the morning. When it was time for
prayer, other mujahideen had told me, “You must get up. We will
pray now and you must also pray.” But Massoud said to me, “You
can sleep, don’t get up.” I tried to get up. I don’t pray like they did,
but I sat behind them facing towards Mecca.
Many mujahideen said, “You should be Muslim. We like you. You
come here alone, and you eat with us. Most reporters come here only
to interview Massoud. They stay in the guesthouse, they never talk to
us, and after the interview they go home. But you stay for a long time,
so we like you and you should be Muslim. If we prayed together, it
would be our happiness,” they said. I did not want to pray five times a
day, especially in the morning, so I told them I could not wake up in
the morning.
A mujahid told Massoud later, “That Japanese does not want to
be a Muslim because he cannot get up early in the morning.” So
Massoud said to me later, “Muslims can pray later in the day, not
always at 5 o’clock. If you get up late, it’s okay.” He never said, “You
should. . . .”
(Hiromi Nagakura)

THE “NORTHERN ALLIANCE”

The name “Northern Alliance” was given by Pakistan and adopted by
the Western media. They called themselves the United Front, which
more accurately portrayed their policy of unifying all of the diverse
ethnic groups of Afghanistan, the main groups being the Pashtun,
Tajik, Uzbek, and Hazara, in opposition to the Taliban. In fact, the
nine leaders of the United Front who signed the agreement I
negotiated (on the United Front policy for national reconciliation)
came from each of these ethnic groups, two of whom were Pashtun.
Commander Massoud, the de facto leader of the United Front, did
not intend for the United Front to become the ruling government of
Afghanistan. His vision was for the United Front to help establish a
new government, where the various ethnic groups would share power
and live in peace through a democratic form of government. He was
even open to having some moderate members of the Taliban in a new
government. He told me of his dream of an Afghanistan at peace with
itself, and of the Pansjhir Valley, which had been stripped of many of
its trees, being once again full of flowering almond trees and laughing
children.
In pursuing this vision, Massoud was constantly reaching out to
the Pashtuns, who made up the bulk of the Taliban movement. During
my stay with Massoud in the Panjshir Valley, I met two of his
“advisers” who were Pashtun. One adviser, who was a mullah,
jokingly called himself a “Taliban,” not because he was a member of
the Taliban, but because he had conservative beliefs. I also saw
visiting Pashtun tribal leaders from Kandahar (where the Taliban were
based). And I shared one of Massoud’s guesthouses with a young
Pashtun military commander. He was tired of the fighting and told me
of his dream to live overseas and date a young woman.
After 9-11 and the overthrow of the Taliban, the United Front
became instrumental in forming a jirga (assembly) to establish a new
government representing all of Afghanistan’s ethnic groups. Massoud
had been assassinated two days before 9-11, but his vision for the
United Front to establish a new government prevailed. Massoud’s
dream of peace and flowering almond trees will take much longer.
(Roger L. Plunk)
 15

WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

Somebody asked Commander Gul Haidar, who had fought with Massoud
since he was fifteen years old and now is thirty-nine, where had he studied. He
answered, “I studied at the University of Massoud.”
—Abdul Wadood Zafari

Once an Afghan told me he did not know how to talk

about life with Massoud because every moment, every
second, was essential with him. He was what he
taught, so he was constantly guiding his people. At
times his actions could be quite unexpected and
produced surprise, even shock, and their purpose
could only be understood by later reflection.
 I AM ONE THING
When the Russians were defeated, I was working with a mujahid
named Hayisedique in the Panjshir Valley. He came to me and said, “I
have a family and I want to go to Saudi Arabia for work.” He wanted
me to ask Massoud if he could go.
It was about 6 p.m., the time of the fourth prayer, and Massoud
made Wuzu before prayers (Muslims wash their hands and face before
praying). He came from the river; his hair was wet and his hands were
wet, and I went towards him and I said, “Ahmad, my friend
Hayisedique wants to go to Saudi Arabia. I am being the mediator
between you and Hayisedique to ask if you will let him go.” And he
said, “But where is Hayisedique?” He was near a tree and approached
us then.
Before he had the chance to speak for himself, Massoud said to
Hayisedique, “What do you think about me? Who am I?” I was
surprised, and Hayisedique also felt strange that Massoud would ask
him such a question. We did not understand what he wanted. He
repeated the question, and then he said, “Look Hayisedique, I am
nothing. People say Massoud is a poet. Who has seen my poetry? I am
not a poet. I am not a writer. I am not a doctor. I am not an engineer.
I am not a politician. I am not a very good speaker. So I am nothing.
But I am one thing and I feel one thing: I love my country and I love
my God.”
Hayisedique did not go. He stayed, and he never asked again.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)
 HUMAN EVOLUTION
I can mention many people who came with no knowledge, spent time
with Massoud, and learned. Without going through any formal
education, people who were close to Massoud evolved through
everyday experiences. Bismillah Khan, for example, did not go to any
military school or educational institution, but today he is one of the
most important Afghan commanders and leads a division.
Dr. Abdullah is trained as a medical doctor. It was his experience
with Massoud that gave him the ability to deal with foreign policy. He
was a personal secretary to Massoud and learned everything from
him.
During the last military operation, Anaconda, American troops
were unable to capture Taliban positions because they were not
familiar with fighting in our mountains. Gul Haidar, with only one
leg, went with a couple of his troops and captured all the Taliban
positions. He never had military schooling. He learned by his
experience with Massoud.
(Haroun Mir)

SMALL THINGS
Maybe this does not seem very important, but you learned small
things as well as big ones from Massoud—to stay clean in all
circumstances, to see if everybody had everything they needed during
lunch or dinner. From the end of a room he would be aware of what
was happening everywhere in the room. Such things were a constant
teaching to others without his showing or telling them, “Do this and
that.”
 (Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

THE ADMIRER
This happened in the 1990s when Massoud was in Kabul. A friend of
mine, Zia, who is a Hazara, admired Massoud so much that he drew a
picture of him. Then, he took a taxi and went to Massoud’s office. He
arrived at noon and asked to see Massoud, but the secretary told him
that Massoud was busy, so Zia went back home.
The next day, again he took a taxi, and at noon he was at
Massoud’s office. He waited until 8 p.m., and finally the secretary said
to Massoud, “He won’t leave; go and see him.” So Massoud received
Zia and immediately confronted him. “Why are you wasting your
time painting me? I couldn’t finish my studies; you go and finish
yours, and don’t waste any more of your time!”
(Fawad Rahmani)

INDIRECTLY
This makes me a little uncomfortable: I did not have any knowledge
of Islam, unlike other revolutionaries who had the chance to read the
right books. Humbly, I told Ahmad Shah, “I come from a Kabul
family of very open-minded people. A lot of women in my family, my
cousins and others, don’t even wear headscarves. But I want to do
something for Afghanistan if I can.”
He didn’t say anything, but during the next weeks and months he
taught me, indirectly and without extremism or fundamentalism, not
only about Islam but also about the relationship between God and
people. He asked if I read the Bible or the Koran. I said that I never
thought about it. Then he taught me some things about both of them.
I thought, this man is different from the other commanders and
leaders I have met in Afghanistan and Pakistan; he is open-minded.
(Daoud Mir)

THE VILLAGERS
I was in the Panjshir Valley with Massoud before the Russians
invaded Afghanistan. He was injured, and the road had collapsed. We
wanted to come out of the village, but some of the villagers said, “No,
you cannot leave.” And one of the young men, Yasim, came forward
and took hold of Massoud’s shirt and said, “You are responsible for
this road and you are not moving.”
After a few minutes, some of Massoud’s soldiers, about two
hundred men, came to the village and immediately when they saw the
situation turned guns on the villagers and said, “What the hell do you
think you are doing?” Then they looked to Massoud, but he said,
“Don’t.”
We said to him, “They are not allowing your family to get out of
the village. They are holding you, humiliating you.” But Massoud
said, “They are the people. Today they have a problem because the
road broke, so they think that way today. But tomorrow they will be
the people again and they will be our strength.”
So Massoud did not allow our men to do anything. Later on, when
he was strong again, somebody asked what should be done against
that village. Massoud laughed and said, “Don’t think small, don’t
think that way. They are all human beings; they are all Afghans.”
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)
 FOR HOURS AND HOURS
People used to come and I would think, they are talking too much
about things that have nothing to do with the situation, so why not
tell them, I don’t want to hear that; tell me about this, which was
important. But Massoud let people argue with him all the time—
elderly people, young people. For hours and hours he talked to them,
and at the end of every meeting I realized that they left feeling
satisfied. I learned that you need to care for every single issue that
matters to them, regardless of its political importance or significance
in the military struggle. That’s the way to gain the confidence and
trust of people.
The first time I went to the Panjshir Valley, I would lose my
temper when things did not seem logical. I would argue and argue and
lose my temper. He told me after a while, “Look, be a little more
patient. These people have suffered a lot. These are not normal
circumstances, and there are too many problems. When they come to
us they think we are capable of solving all their problems, and if we
don’t, they lose their temper. We should be patient. They don’t have
anywhere else to go.” Without him reminding me, later on I saw how
much patience he showed towards people, even the ones who argued
with him and sometimes spoke nonsense—how he would still listen.
This I learned from him.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

I DID NOT KNOW RELIGION

I was from Kabul and I did not know about religion. I learned it when
I was with Massoud. I had never done my prayers before. Because I
was living with him, I saw that he and the bodyguards and close
friends woke up at five in the morning and did the prayers. They knew
that people like me were sleeping, but Massoud was not like the
fundamentalists, saying that if you don’t do your prayers you are not
a true Muslim. He was moderate and open-minded and never forced
anyone to do anything.
(Haroun Mir)

START WITH WUZU

Something happened one day at Massoud’s residence in Kabul in 1995
that struck me. He was ready to lead the prayers. We had just arrived
and weren’t ready, because you have to be really pure and clean, so
you have to wash your mouth, hands, legs, etc. This is called Wuzu
and you can do it with water or dirt. Since I hadn’t done Wuzu, I just
sat in the room, took my video camera, and tried to take pictures of
Massoud.
When he finished, he called me and a couple of other people who
had not been prepared to do the prayers, and he said, “Listen to me. I
know you are young and to pray five times a day is kind of difficult,
but you have to teach yourselves and your bodies discipline. Do the
Wuzu five times during the day, then you won’t have any trouble
doing the prayers.” That was something I never heard from anyone
else and it always stayed with me.
(Farid Zikria)

WHEN YOU TAKE A VOW

Massoud always told people, once you get married you get busy with
your wife and children, and that takes away from the Resistance. But
in the Muslim world, as you get older if you don’t get married you
lose respect. So the time came that he had to get married, and he did.
Then there was a rumor that now the story would be different, that he
was going to be more engaged with his family life, and people were
afraid of what would happen.
One day they woke up and Massoud was not there. He had left
before the sun rose and had gone to the doorstep of a base that the
Russians had nearby. From there, the Russians saw him and attacked
and shot at him. When he returned to his own base, people asked,
“Where did you go? How could you go alone?” His commanders and
soldiers, when they found out, were not only surprised but were
actually yelling at him about it.
But do you know what Massoud had done? He had shown them
not only that going to the mountain of the dragon is not hard if you
have the will, but also that he was a man of his word. He would stand
and fight, and having a wife and kids would not stop him from doing
what he had to do.
(Farid Amin)

IN THE CAVES
Massoud helped us in academics throughout northern Afghanistan, in
the caves and elsewhere, and he brought tapes and video cassettes and
many other things that were sent to him. He wanted his people not to
remain peasants, not to remain people who knew only about war, but
to know that life is greater than war.
(Haron Amin)
 BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
Massoud was not the type to speak for hours trying to motivate
people. He spoke calmly and used simple words ordinary people could
understand. Mainly he affected people, not just with clear reasoning
and conversation, but by his example. I think that is why his was a
lasting leadership.
Sometimes in Afghanistan leaders fall out of grace because of their
weaknesses. A lot of the politicians lead double lives: When the doors
are closed they have different beliefs. Massoud did not. He was what
he was.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

COPY THIS!
Whatever Massoud did, people copied him all the time. You have seen
Massoud’s pictures. His hat was always cocked to one side. He did
not place it like that on purpose; his talk was animated, he moved his
head a lot, and the hat just moved to one side. That became a fashion.
All people who are loyal to him wear the hat like that.
One day he was swimming in the river, and when he got out he
didn’t tuck his shirt into his pants. He just walked around like that,
and the next day 90 percent of the mujahideen were wearing their
clothes the same way.
So one day he gathered all his commanders, and he said to them,
“Whatever I do, you copy me. If I walk funny, you walk funny. If I
talk differently, you talk that way, too. So I have one request for you
people: if you want to copy me, copy this. I am not stealing from the
people; my heart is here to take care of the people. Don’t steal. Work
for your people and your neighborhood.”
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

BEFORE YOU EXPRESS YOURSELF

When we started to tell Massoud something, before we were finished
he would say yes, and we knew that he had gotten the point. When
somebody could not get what he was talking about, he would say,
“May Allah secure your household, I like a friend who understands
you before you express yourself.” He liked this saying a lot, and he
had it always on his tongue.
(Masood Khalili)

WHICH WAY TO GOD?

In Islam there are two schools of thought. Maktabi is a school of strict
Islamic teachings. The fundamentalists follow the maktabi: for
example, Hekmatyar and people who were in Alzahra University in
Egypt. It means that you follow certain rules and limitations set by
those particular schools of Islamic teaching, and all of the
fundamentalists belong to those schools. Sufis are those who follow
tasawuf, the second school of thought. The final goal of both is to get
closer to God. Maktabis think that you have to follow certain rules,
while the Sufi way of tasawuf is very broad and covers the whole of
humanity.
In France I asked Massoud, “Do you follow the maktabis or the
Sufi way of getting closer to God?” His answer is something I never
heard before, even though I have talked with a lot of scholars, Sufis.
He told me this:

In order to be a good Muslim, in order to be a true Muslim, you have to follow

both. Maktabis and what they do in their teachings show you the rules of Islam—for
example, you have to pray five times a day—but that alone won’t get you close to
God, so you need tasawuf to understand why the rules exist. Then you will get
closer to God. Just praying five times a day will not do it, but if you understand the
philosophy behind it. . . . The Taliban beat people so they would pray five times a
day, but that’s not the way. You have to feel it inside, and if you pray, during your
prayers you have to be with God.
(Farid Zikria)

NIGHT AFTER NIGHT

There were times when Massoud’s companions would come to him in
desperation, but he never gave in to that. He always had an answer,
and if at any point he found reluctance, he would do something
himself. A good leader is the first one to act. For me, if words do not
reflect actions, they don’t mean anything.
When people saw Massoud come in at night with an empty
stomach, taking off his boots and putting his feet in cold water for the
swelling, drinking hot tea to relax himself, and at the same time
having the walkie talkie at his ear, giving orders . . . when that
happened constantly, it said something.
(Farid Amin)

THE VIEW
Two or three years before he was killed, there was moment in
Massoud’s house, in his garden. Everybody was sad; a lot had
happened. Mazar-i-Sharif and Kunduz had fallen to the Taliban. In
Salang, a commander had surrendered to the Taliban. The situation
was bad, so Massoud asked some of his colleagues to have a
discussion—Mr. Qanooni, Bismillah Khan, etc.
Commander Massoud wanted to make the moment a little bit
lighter, but it wasn’t possible. When everybody left, I went with him
inside his house. He said, “Some of our colleagues have lost morale;
it’s very difficult. I tried, but everybody was sort of preoccupied.” So
we sat and had a cup of tea, and I went home.
The situation got better. We went back into Salang, the Taliban
was attacked in Mazar-i-Sharif and lost lots of their people, and the
people from Mazar were liberated. Then Massoud and I went to the
same room, a room that was sort of a library, and he said, “Look.
There is such a nice view here.” I said, “Yes, no doubt about it.” Then
he said, “Three days ago, the same view was there, but nobody
noticed how nice it was. It depends on the moment, on somebody’s
situation. Everything is relative, you see. It was the same view.”
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

“Every leaf of the tree becomes a page of the Book

when once the heart is opened and it has learnt to read.”
—Saadi of Shiraz

HOMEWORK
Once Masood Khalili went to the Panjshir Valley. When he came
back, I asked him how Massoud was, and he told me, “Let’s talk
later. First, I should complete my homework.” And you know what
the homework was? Massoud had told him, “The next time that you
come to the Panjshir Valley you should have read this Al-Ghazali
book, and I will ask you about it.”
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

PRIORITIES
In 1998, the Taliban took over most of the country. The only places
that were free were Badakhshan and part of Taloqan in the Panjshir
Valley, and the Taliban was advancing towards Badakhshan. I was
with Massoud when we left the Panjshir to take a helicopter trip to
the north.
I asked him about his son, Ahmad. He said, “Well, I promised
Ahmad that next time I went to the north I would take him with me,
and Ahmad was ready and came to the helicopter to join me. I told
him that, yes, I had promised and I didn’t want to break my promise.
But I tried to explain to him that the Taliban was advancing to the
north, and if I took him with me, the people in the Panjshir Valley
would think that I was taking him to a safer place—that the situation
was so bad that I was taking him outside the country. So I told him,
‘It is better for you to stay here so the people can feel safe.’”
(Farid Zikria)

FOOD UNDER FIRE

My father told me this story he got from my brother who was killed.
He was on a mountain in a fight with the Russians, and he had gotten
under a rock. He thought, I am going to die. Then, suddenly,
Massoud was coming toward him alone, and he asked my brother,
casually, “Do you have anything to eat?” He saw Massoud’s courage,
and it made him feel courageous too.
(Eisa Khan Ayoob Ayoobi)

“‘I’ll tell you what I think: life goes by whether you’re happy or not,’
he [Massoud] said. ‘Any man who looks back on his past and feels he
has been of some use need have no regrets.’”
(Junger, “Massoud’s Last Conquest,” 139)

“Look not at my exterior form but take what is in my hand.”

— Jallaluddin Rumi
 16

KABUL: SHADOW OF VICTORY

When I am weary of the reign of reason
God knows how grateful I am to my heart!
—Khalillulah Khalili

Between 1992 and 1996, Kabul was at the center of

tragic conflicts and represented both the high and low
points of Massoud’s life as a leader. When he and the
mujahideen entered Kabul, hopes were high that a
coalition of all the different Afghan factions would
share power and build a new country. Massoud made
every decision in light of this hope, but it was dashed
again and again as some international players
abandoned the scene and others vied for control of the
country by repeatedly provoking violence using
various Afghan militias.
 This was such a troubled and complex period for
Massoud that an in-depth examination is needed to
shed light on the elusive reality behind a situation the
Afghans compared to hell. In making that
examination, I have listened to the voices of those
who were actually present or involved during those
years, rather than the many who watched and
reported from far away.

I. HIGH HOPES: A HISTORIC DAY (1992)

“[The] contest for Kabul ended on April [28], 1992, at least a phase of
the struggle resolved in favor of Ahmad Shah Massoud. To bring
order in the embattled city and establish a stable Afghan government,
he moved into the capital late in the night with ten thousand troops. .
..
“The Afghan moon cast a shadow of a lone figure on his knees.
Before entering the embattled city of Kabul that fateful night . . . he
bowed in prayer for his country and his faithful followers. . . .”
(Prepublication extracts, Bowersox, The Gem Hunter,
http://www.gems-afghan.com/gemhunter/Ch7BoxMassoudCW.htm,
March 2007)

THE KEYS TO THE CITY

Due to many factors—Massoud’s resistance and determination, world
opinion, perestroika in Moscow, pressure from Margaret Thatcher
and Ronald Reagan, the help of Americans in the field (giving the
Stinger anti-aircraft weapons to us)—the Russians and communists
left Kabul. Commander Massoud had been pushing from the north to
reach the walls of Kabul, and he got a message from them that they
would leave the city and give its keys to him.
Instead of going on into Kabul with his forces and becoming the
head of state, instead of accepting the keys of Kabul from the
communists and declaring a victory, Commander Massoud called the
country’s leaders in Pakistan. He informed the leaders in Peshawar
and told us we should discuss what kind of government there would
be and let him know, and we would start a new chapter for
Afghanistan.
I remember getting a message from Commander Massoud. He told
me all their decisions in detail, and I made my opinion very clear to
him: that we should not, for the time being, invite leaders from all
different parts of Afghanistan to rule the country because (a) they
were not experienced in ruling, (b) we didn’t have a constitution, (c)
there would be lots of weapons around, (d) they would turn the war
against the Soviets into war against each other and cause problems for
all of Afghanistan.
My main idea was that he should go to Kabul with the council of
commanders that he had convened two years before. He had been the
head of that council of Pashtun, Tajik, Uzbek, and Hazara
commanders [Shura-e-Nezar]. They had fought the Soviets, and they
were the real liberators. I thought we should go to the old Afghan
Parliament House in Kabul, which was the real parliament of the
country before the communists took over in 1972. (Two hundred and
six members we had, and indeed we had a democracy with its own
meaning and shape.) There they should talk and arrange that for the
next three years we’d have martial law until there was a constitution,
until the power was passed to a democratic body of the people of
Afghanistan.
Anyway, we entered Kabul. The other leaders of the mujahideen
were still in Pakistan, and Rabbani was too. They met there in
Peshawar and insisted that Commander Massoud be the defense
minister, and he accepted. I remember that he was in Kabul already
when I went to him, and he said that the media was waiting for him to
give our first press conference in Kabul. How we had dreamed of this
moment when we were fighting the Soviets in the mountains!
When I sat with the Commander at that press conference, I said to
myself, “Thank God we are in Kabul.” I was actually in tears. I had
thought that the time would never come when I would be able to hold
a press conference in Kabul with Commander Massoud, so it was a
fascinating, beautiful day, a very historical day, for me personally and
for Afghanistan.
The press conference was held at the Foreign Ministry of
Afghanistan in May of 1992. It was at that beautifully carved table in
the old building. Also there were Dostum, Hadaqi, and others.
Commander Massoud announced that he would take charge of Kabul
and that Mujaddedi would be the president for two months. He said
he would take care of any rockets launched in the city. Three rockets
were fired just then from the south of Kabul, and Massoud looked at
me and said, “I think it’s Hekmatyar.” Hekmatyar had not agreed to
come to Kabul, although he had been appointed prime minister at the
meeting in Pakistan. He wanted to come by force instead (because he
had failed to reach Kabul during the fighting).
(Masood Khalili)
 THE CONVERSATION
When the communist government was collapsing, I was with
Commander Massoud in Jabul-Saraj before he entered Kabul and
witnessed a phone conversation between him and Hekmatyar, who
was in South Paktia. Massoud told him: “The Kabul regime is ready
to surrender peacefully, so instead of the fighting we should gather to
replace the regime. The leaders are meeting in Peshawar. There is a
good situation for the mujahideen. The troops should not enter Kabul,
they should enter later on as part of the government.” Massoud
wanted to enter peacefully. His logic was that if the troops entered the
city it would provoke acts of revenge and affect the civilians.
Hekmatyar responded: “We will march into Kabul with our naked
swords. No one can stop us. Kabul is under our threat. It must
surrender, and we will enter as victors. Why should we meet the
leaders?” Massoud responded: “Because you are one of the leaders.”
Massoud’s intention was to form a coalition government.
Hekmatyar did not accept that during the conversation and continued
threatening to attack Kabul. Massoud was concerned with the
possibility of revenge killings, the destruction of the city, violence, the
killing of civilians, and the disunity of the Resistance groups. So he
responded to Hekmatyar: “It seems to me that you don’t want to join
the leaders in Peshawar, nor stop your threat, and you are planning to
enter Kabul. In that case, I must defend the people, the women, the
elders, and the children.”
As this conversation was taking place, Massoud had good
intelligence and knew that people from Hekmatyar had already
entered Kabul dressed as civilians and had been armed by people from
the minister of the interior. They broke open the prison doors, freeing
even dangerous criminals, and more than ten thousand armed
criminals ran loose in Kabul. The released prisoners robbed the
military depots, and there was no army, police, intelligence service,
not even intact buildings and structures. Ministries and their archives
were pillaged, and many important documents were destroyed.
The phone conversation ended. Massoud sent three hundred men
by helicopter to the Kabul airport area and surroundings. Hekmatyar
began attacking military installations, and the next day Massoud
stopped his troops in a battle.
Three days later, on April 24, 1992, Massoud entered Kabul
peacefully. Before he marched toward Kabul, he gave clear orders to
his troops regarding their behavior once they were in the city. He
reminded them of their duties as protectors of Kabul’s population.
(Ayoub Omarzada)

II. THE “CIVIL WAR” THAT WASN’T A CIVIL

WAR (1992–1996)
The communist retreat from Kabul marked the end of one war and
the beginning of another. Hekmatyar was just beyond the capital, and
that chapter would be very dark, bloody, and brutal. It would
continue until the Taliban took power. Those were the worst years for
all of us, and I think certainly the worst years for Commander
Massoud. He worked day and night, from one mountain of Kabul to
another, always planning, talking, mobilizing, coordinating, and
organizing his forces. The south was a hundred percent controlled by
the [Pakistani] ISI.
 Whenever you go back to the years 1992 to 1996, you find this
chapter of Afghanistan’s history full of blood. But, why do people call
it a “civil” war? People did not know, even Afghans abroad. They
thought that it was Afghans brutalizing Afghanistan. Unfortunately,
Iran was helping one ethnic group, Uzbekistan was helping another
group, and Pakistan was helping another—Hekmatyar. They made up
something like a council of solidarity, so we had the south, west, and
east of Kabul fighting against us. The Commander was almost alone
with his own forces.
The world abandoned Afghanistan totally at that time. They just
said, “The war is over, the Soviets are defeated, and the country is in
the hands of the Afghans, so let it be whatever it is.” There was a big
vacuum after the Soviets were defeated and the Americans left, and
Afghanistan fell into competition and rivalry. The various forces
fighting the government were all supported by neighboring countries
who had their own interests and wanted us to fight each other, yet the
war was considered by the world to be a “civil” war.
When the communists left, and after the leaders’ conference, I
asked Massoud, “Please, just let me go and write in my diary.” I
thought the war would continue, but not as much as before, and I
thought Commander Massoud could take care of it. I was so naïve
that I thought that I could retire for a year, write in my diary, and
come back. So I went to the United States.
After about three months, one day he called me and said, “What
are you doing?” I think I said I was reading my diary and waiting for
lunch. He asked me what I was having, and I told him my wife was
making some meat and rice. And he said, “Well, enjoy your lunch.” I
asked how he was doing, and he told me that the enemy had
penetrated as far as the Presidential Palace in Kabul. “Last night they
were inside the palace, but we pushed them out,” he said. I talked to
my wife immediately and said, “I cannot stay here!” We rushed back,
and I started working around Massoud as a soldier without a gun.
(Masood Khalili)

REALITY IN KABUL
I reported from Kabul for The Economist and the Associated Press
from 1991 through 1994 during the new government in Kabul, with
Massoud as defense minister, which basically upheld the liberal
provisions of the National Constitution of 1964—including the right
of women to health care, education, and professional work.
It was tough to get an interview at times, simply because Massoud
was always either negotiating, planning, or fighting. Even as proxy
militias on hire to each of Afghanistan’s unfriendly neighbors joined
hands to destroy the city, Massoud’s self-effacing approach to public
relations continued, for very much the same reasons—but often to the
discomfort of his followers. Massoud never stopped negotiating
behind the scenes with his enemies, especially those with a jihadi
background. His priorities were always clear: “We will not
compromise on national sovereignty. If we work with Dostum, it’s
because we don’t want to have to fight in the north while we are
defending Kabul—and because his relationship with Ankara [Turkey]
and Tashkent [Uzbekistan] is far less of a threat to Afghan sovereignty
than Hekmatyar’s relationship with Pakistan.”
For the next four and a half years, every step that Massoud took—
or could have taken, but hesitated to—was dictated by one overriding
concern: The well-being of the ordinary citizens of Kabul. He can
hardly be blamed for the presence of irresponsible armed groups in the
capital, having done everything within his power to prevent it. Until
November 1994, I witnessed firsthand the resulting dilemmas he
faced, the amazing restraint with which he met them, and the almost
willfully feckless manner in which absentee Western “observers”
based in Pakistan distorted the situation in accord with ISI
propaganda.
For example, the Dostum militia created a big crime problem in
Kabul, and Massoud’s enemies (along with jealous rivals among the
mujahideen) accused him of “bringing the Gilam Jam [in reference to
Dostum’s militia accused of thieving] to Kabul.” (In fact, it was
common knowledge that communist regime generals had flown them
into Kabul to shore up the city’s defenses a week and a half before the
mujahideen took over.) Massoud’s followers, busy as they were,
regularly shot it out with Dostum carjackers and burglars who were
preying on the citizens. Eventually, Dostum joined the opposition—
and Massoud drove his militia step by step out of Kabul. First he was
blamed for their crimes; when he fought them, he was blamed for
“fighting in the city.”
The Iran-backed Shiite Hazara militia wasn’t supposed to be in
town either: They were able to seize southern and western Kabul
precisely because of the collapse of the army perimeter engineered by
Pakistan’s proxy militias and their communist allies. Massoud did
everything within his power to restrain the Hazara “ethnic cleansing”
campaign in southwest Kabul, which began barely a month after the
communist regime collapsed.
When his efforts fell short, Western aid workers and diplomats—
parroting their contacts in ISI and its Afghan proxies—derided him for
“failing to control the situation.” When he finally crushed them, to
stop their abuses, the Western parrots began chattering the tune of
Radio Iran, blaming him for “massacres” and “human rights abuses”
against Hazaras that are overwhelmingly fictional.
 Massoud’s hands were tied, to some extent, because except for
short periods he was unable to keep his enemies out of artillery range
—just as better-equipped communist troops before them and NATO
troops afterward have proven unable to stop terrorist attacks in
Kabul. The enemy used munitions from Pakistani army depots to shell
marketplaces and intersections at peak traffic hours. They deliberately
killed tens of thousands of civilians. Despite the ongoing
disinformation, there is no doubt and no question, in the minds of
objective observers who were actually present, that it was Massoud
and his followers who struggled to uphold human rights, and his
enemies who abused them.
That led to trade-offs—the stuff of every political and military
decision, west or east. When Iran-backed Hazara militiamen began
shelling Kabul’s northwestern neighborhoods, Massoud worried aloud
to his aides that driving them from their positions would risk allowing
some of his allies’ camp followers to commit atrocities against Hazara
captives. On the other hand, he noted, the alternative was to allow
Hazara militiamen to continue shelling much more heavily populated
areas, and killing many more noncombatants, on the other side of
town. Understandably, he chose the former. In the resulting Afshar
operation, abuses were minimal, as I saw for myself—nothing to
compare with the savagery I had witnessed the Hazara militia inflict
on noncombatants. Of course, that has never stopped political
opportunists (often masquerading as human rights activists) from
inventing a “massacre” that never, in fact, occurred.
During the battle, I watched Panjsheris rescue a wounded Hazara
woman caught in a cross fire and carry her to safety. Next day, I
stumbled across one of Wahdat’s impromptu jails in the basement of
an abandoned house, complete with three non-Hazara corpses, tied up
with baling wire and shot as the gunmen fled. My bureau chief wasn’t
interested. (Though she didn’t quit her job, she later dropped any
pretense of journalism and became an anti-Massoud activist.) In
Islamabad, they only cared about atrocities against Hazaras.
The pundits who natter on about mujahideen “abuses” forget a
very important point: Any popular movement, if it is truly popular, is
going to harbor a criminal element, just because every large
population harbors a criminal element. It is unrealistic to expect zero
crimes. Yet Afghans, even Massoud’s enemies, know that abuses by
his troops were rare, exceptional, and punished as often as they were
caught. (Whether they are willing to admit it to Western hacks and
diplomats is another matter.) His enemies, on the other hand—few of
whom were mujahideen to begin with—undertook mass murder,
looting, and ethnic cleansing as a matter of policy.
It also bears noting that, from late 1992 through early 1995,
Massoud’s enemies enjoyed direct military backing from all of
Afghanistan’s militarily significant neighbors—Pakistan, Iran, and
Uzbekistan. Yet he withstood them, and eventually all but Pakistan
realized the foolishness of their policies. Had Massoud not fought to
hold on to Kabul, the human rights situation in Afghanistan and
throughout the region would have been vastly worse than it was.
(John Jennings)

KABUL WAS THE HARDEST

When Massoud was in Kabul, between 1992 and 1996, the city was
full of sad stories. It was being attacked by rockets, it was under
blockade, the people were getting poorer day by day, and there was
infighting between different armed groups. Sometimes he would set
aside official business and come to my house without bodyguards—we
used to live in the same area of Kabul—and we listened to special
music, some special music with good poetry. This would be only for a
few hours, and, because he had a great sense of responsibility, even in
those times he was always thinking.
We used to go to the Panjshir together and swim in the river.
People of all ages, young and old, would gather, and he used to play
with them, running, wrestling, or swimming. You wouldn’t believe
that he was the man who had the responsibility for the whole country.
He would say, “We are happy now; I hope there is not bad news
afterwards.”
That might be the case, but other times he received information by
radio that there had been an attack by Hekmatyar. Then he would
say, “I knew this would not last,” and we would return to Kabul and
get back to business again. He said that the time in Kabul was the
hardest, because people were suffering, and there was almost nothing
we could do.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

A SINGLE MAN’S EFFORT

During the government’s fight to hold Kabul, for a while the front line
was only five hundred meters from the Presidential Palace. There was
no proper communication, we needed medicine for people who were
wounded and sick, and there was a shortage of food. During all this,
Massoud had to keep defending the city because rockets were
constantly coming in, so the situation was very bad.
While I was in exile, I saw a lot of publicity they made up against
the government. The “massacres” they reported were exaggerations,
but it is true that there was bad behavior on the part of certain forces.
Massoud was always talking to his people about not behaving badly;
he told them they were accountable to their God. But because of the
rocket attacks on the city the number of troops had to be increased, so
there were ten or twelve thousand troops from other sources that
came in to protect the city.
I think people blamed Massoud because they expected him to test
out the reliability of all of the troops and at the same time to maintain
the mujahideen’s hold on Kabul and help all the people. Those who
criticized him admit they don’t have any evidence that Massoud
ordered any killings. He not only did not order any, but he was deeply
distressed by them.
I remember once at an evening meal during Ramadan, Massoud
commented that some commanders were behaving badly, and said
that he was trying to bring them to justice, even to put them in jail.
But I think it was a single man’s effort, so it could not succeed.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

“During the next four years [1992–1996] I never saw my husband so

sad. His disappointment was immense and every day I perceived that
he became a little more withdrawn. And for me, I understood that the
hope of tranquil happiness had once more fled my life. I no longer had
any bearings.”
(Excerpt from Colombani with Hachemi, “A Meeting with Mme.
Massoud,” Elle)

USING HIS NAME

When Massoud came into Kabul in 1992, the mujahideen came as an
“alliance” from many different fronts and different groups. You had
Dostum’s people who were totally out of control. There were other
groups, other commanders, and quite a few had become communists
as well.
When Massoud operated in the north during the fight against the
Soviets, and towards the end of the Taliban period, his Northern
Front commanders he watched quite closely and controlled well, but
in Kabul, no. Of the people working around him, many were not
Panjshiris, and a lot became corrupt very quickly. They sought to play
the same game as everyone else that went to Kabul—running favors,
undermining him, something that I know Massoud wanted to rectify.
People who were supposedly supporting Massoud were just using his
name to benefit themselves. That was one of the main concerns. He
could not control all of them.
(Edward Girardet)

LEADER OF THE THIEVES

After Massoud entered Kabul, the government was established, he
became defense minister, and there was looting. One day he was going
from Kabul to Shamali, and he saw a trailer truck and somehow got
suspicious. He stopped it, and when they opened the back there were
goods in it, things that belonged to other people, probably taken from
houses or government offices.
He accused them: “You are thieves, you are trying to steal.” Then
he saw his own picture in the back of their truck—you know that
people tried to use Massoud’s name and picture to gain power or to
take advantage of things—and he said, “First, remove that picture of
your leader, the leader of thieves.” In his way he was telling them,
listen, if you say I am your leader and you do these things, that is
what you make me—a leader of thieves.
(Farid Amin)

A THOUSAND ROCKETS
When the mujahideen took over, Massoud became the minister of
defense and actual leader of the government. Then Hekmatyar started
rocketing Kabul, and the city went through a very bad time. The
question is whether or not the situation was caused by Massoud.
I was in Kabul during that period, and I don’t think so. Other
parties, for example Hekmatyar with the help of the Pakistani ISI,
tried to disturb the peace. That was the fact. The situation in Baghdad
today is a lot worse; people don’t feel safe. That is what the Pakistanis
wanted for Kabul all those years. If they made it an unsafe place,
people would blame Massoud because he was supposed to be in
charge.
Hekmatyar had his own army, and he was within a few miles of
the city. He had the backing of Pakistan, and he had a lot of rockets.
He fired more than a thousand rockets at Kabul in a day.
(Farid Zikria)

EMPTY-HANDED
When Mr. Yunnus Qanooni came to Pakistan, I asked him about
Kabul, and he told me that one day during that time Massoud sent
him and Mohammed Qasim Fahim to Gulbuddin Hekmatyar and told
them, “Bring my heart, my intention, to Gulbuddin, and tell him that I
want him as prime minister of Afghanistan, and please not to fire
rockets all over Kabul. I will stay under his command, and I will
accept him as prime minister.”
Qanooni and Fahim went to Shariazar to meet Hekmatyar. When
they arrived, Qanooni told Hekmatyar, “We are not coming officially.
Nobody knows we are here. We are just bringing the intention of
Massoud to you, to talk about you and Kabul and the future of
Afghanistan.” And Qanooni explained Massoud’s message and that
Massoud would remain under his command for the sake of Kabul and
Afghanistan.
Qanooni said, “Do you know what Gulbuddin’s reaction was? He
said he would accept, but there was one condition: There was a
mountain inside Kabul that was occupied by our forces, and if
Massoud agreed to withdraw from this mountain, Hekmatyar would
come.” Qanooni laughed and told him, “Massoud is ready to give you
the whole country and you are talking about one mountain?” And of
course they came back empty-handed.
Massoud tried to negotiate several times, and Hekmatyar refused
because he was not independent. He was a puppet of the Pakistanis. It
was not a civil war but a plot designed by the Pakistan Intelligence
Service (ISI). When Hekmatyar was defeated, they sent the Taliban.
Even before Commander Massoud entered Kabul, he had a phone
conversation with Hekmatyar, a historic conversation. If you listen to
the tapes of it, you will understand how many times Massoud asked
him to not attack Kabul. He told Hekmatyar, “I am really flexible
toward including all the Afghan leaders who are in Pakistan in the
government in Kabul. I don’t want the city or the power for myself.”
He repeated this several times, but the guy just did not accept it. We
have the cassettes in our office in Kabul.
 (Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

PROMISE OF PEACE
The issue was how to achieve peace and security in Kabul. Hekmatyar
said that as long as Massoud’s troops were in Kabul, there would be
fighting. That was always his position. During that period there were
many visits from the United Nations, and different Afghan delegations
came. During all the mediations, what Massoud said is that if you can
agree on any mechanism that will guarantee peace in Kabul and
Afghanistan, I will not insist on the presence of armed forces in Kabul.
If there is no guarantee of peace and the fighting continues, then of
course we have to stay. That was his position.
One of Hekmatyar’s conditions for his forces to stop their fighting
[against the Rabbani government] was that Massoud leave the
Ministry of Defense. In a meeting in Jalalabad at the end of 1993,
President Rabbani and Professor Sayyaf were present and this issue
was raised. They discussed it, then contacted Commander Massoud.
He said without hesitation that in exchange for peace he would resign,
but they would have to guarantee that peace was achieved, and the
one doing the fighting was Hekmatyar.
Massoud did not believe in taking power for its own sake, but only
as an opportunity to be of service. One of his greatest wishes was
peace in Afghanistan. They sent Commander Massoud a message
from Jalalabad, and he resigned and went to the Panjshir, to Jabul-
Saraj, where he dealt with the mujahideen as a commander, not as
defense minister. Of course, when the political leaders made this
decision, they did not make sure that peace was achieved. Hekmatyar
continued fighting, so it did not stop the war.
 (Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

THE HAZARA ISSUE

Massoud has been accused of extreme measures against the Hazaras
in 1993, ’94, and ’95, strong measures that killed a lot of people. But I
just don’t think he went out of his way to kill civilians, only to deal
with the Hazara resistance because they were siding with Hekmatyar.
I was in Kabul many times during the ’90s, including the edges of
Kabul. There, until Massoud’s forces were forced to withdraw,
security was relatively good, and there were no signs of harrassment
against the local Hazara population. When I was there, quite a lot of
fighting was going on. Hekmatyar’s forces did most of the shelling,
but the Hazaras were in the areas where a lot of shelling went in both
directions and quite a few Hazara civilians were killed.
What we saw was that Massoud’s positions were tanks embedded
in the hills around Kabul, and they shelled the Hekmatyar and Hazara
positions. Massoud was really careful only to shell the enemy.
Hekmatyar’s men tended to be in the higher mountain areas, and they
would shell indiscriminately into the city.
(Edward Girardet)

A HAZARA VIEW POINT

I am a Hazara with the Harakat-e-Islami (Islamic Union) Party, which
was allied with Massoud against the Taliban. Hazaras live mostly in
the west part of Kabul, but the fight between them and Massoud’s
people started as a misunderstanding between a small group of
Hazaras (the Esmaelias) and Massoud’s forces in east Kabul. That day
Massoud was not even in the city, but in Tagab in the Panjshir.
Soon, Hekmatyar and his Hezb-i-Islami Party with Dostum and
the Hazaras from a big party called Hezb-Wahdet-Islami began
attacking Massoud from the west side of Kabul. At that time, I went
to the east side of the city with a few people to try to see somebody
from Jamiat and stop the fighting.
We met with the closest friends of Massoud, Dr. Abdul Rahman
and Commander Fahim. After twenty minutes Massoud arrived from
Tagab, and I remember the very first thing he said to Fahim and
Rahman was, “Stop this fighting against the Hazaras as soon as
possible. They are poor people, good people. Don’t fight them; how
soon can it be stopped?” Then he had to go back to Tagab because
Hekmatyar was attacking his group there too, but he was serious
about stopping the fighting with the Hazaras.
(Aref Shajahan)

THEY WOULD SAY, I QUIT!

There was a big meeting in Herat under the leadership of Ismael Khan
before the Taliban emerged. More than one hundred prominent
Afghans, all scholars and national figures, attended from different
countries, from Europe and the United States. Also, different
commanders from different regions attended, and Professor Rabbani.
Massoud told Rabbani, “When you arrive at this meeting, in front
of all the important figures of Afghanistan gathered there you should
resign as a president of Afghanistan to let the people decide about
Afghanistan’s president.” Rabbani did not follow Massoud’s advice,
and Massoud did not speak to him for six months. Rabbani just could
not give up the power.
Massoud made another attempt. One day he came and had a talk
with Rabbani. First he asked him, “Why did the Communist Party
collapse in Russia?” Rabbani did not know why Massoud asked this.
Then Massoud told him, “Look, there are many reasons, but one of
the most important is that one party controlled all of Russia. People
resented that, and so people like Saharof and other intellectuals turned
against communism. If a party that has more than seventy years in
power and five million KGB members cannot control its country,
cannot maintain its government, is it possible for one party with the
name of Jamiat-i-Islami to control all of Afghanistan? No, it’s
impossible.” So Rabbani asked what did Massoud want. Massoud
said, “If you want to run a good government in Kabul, let in people
who have other ideas. Call all these intellectuals who have followed
the war to come to Kabul, and share the government with them.”
These are the attempts that I remember. Massoud tried several
times and many plans to save Kabul and to establish a strong
government that included all groups. But his ideas were attacked by
plots from outsiders like Hekmatyar or selfish persons like Rabbani.
People say that Russia made two ambushes on Afghanistan: One
was their invasion, and the second was their withdrawal. Why the
second, when it meant that the Russians were defeated? How did
Massoud get into that situation? He did not expect the Russians to
withdraw from Afghanistan so quickly. He was a military
commander, but he had no political party that was ready to run the
country. In time he would have founded his own party, but when the
Russians withdrew suddenly, he had to accept all these responsibilities
himself. That is why he referred the issue to all the leaders of the
mujahideen parties in Peshawar and told them, “Come to Kabul and
form the government, all of you. I don’t want power just for myself.”
This is the reality. He was very popular in Afghanistan, he was a
great fighter and was a charismatic leader, but people have no idea
how many problems there were. How could he possibly deal with all
these things? If anybody else had been in his position, they would have
just said, “I quit!”
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

FOR THE SAKE OF KABUL

Around 1996, Massoud talked to the Taliban in Parwan in the
southern part of Kabul. He went with just a few bodyguards to tell
them, “Don’t fight; don’t attack Kabul. We are all Afghans. We
should form our government, and we should share it.” He tried
several times. The Taliban leader was Mullah Rabani [no relation to
President Rabbani], and Massoud went alone into the room and he
talked with them for more than an hour to convince them that there
was no difference between us. And they did not accept it.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

NOTHING TO SAY
During the horror of 1994–95 in Kabul, I was with Christophe de
Ponfilly, some French doctors, and Massoud in one of his safe houses.
Everything was dark. There was no electricity, and the rockets were
falling like rain. The city was under siege by the Taliban, and I had
gone through their lines to bring food and medicine into the city.
 Massoud was sitting there with a great map by the light of a
lantern, trying to explain to all of us why he was ultimately going to
win. He was pointing at the map: We are here, the enemy is there, we
can move around this way and catch them that way and defeat them
that way, but you can be assured, my friends, that we are going to
win.
We said to him, “You know Amer Saheb, whether you win or not
has nothing to do with the reason we are here. We are here to help
you even if you lose.” And he didn’t know what to say; he just
couldn’t answer.
(Professor Michael Barry)

III. FANATICS AND FOREIGNERS (1996–2001)

GIVE IT TO THEM
I am going to tell you the story of the defeat of Kabul; how we had to
leave Kabul for the Panjshir.
When the fighting with the Taliban reached the Kabul gates, the
first person who went to meet them was Massoud himself, because he
did not want the fighting to continue; he did not want Kabul
destroyed. There were Pakistanis, Arabs, and Chechnians fighting
against us. That’s when Massoud told the commanders to withdraw
our troops to the north.
I was in a place called Sangebaushta, which was one of the
defending posts, and Massoud came and told us not to fight the
Taliban anymore. There was a mosque, and the Taliban wanted to
take it. Massoud said, “Give it to them; don’t fight.” He wanted to
serve God, not to fight people, and he did not want more innocent
people being killed, so he made the decision to leave Kabul to the
Taliban.
He explained then why we were withdrawing, and he yelled, “I
told you to leave!” We were heartbroken, but we gathered our stuff
and we went because we took his orders. He was our leader.
(Commander Gul Haidar)

HOPE WILL TAKE US BACK

Poetry was a part of Massoud’s life, and not only his spiritual and
love life. He also gained lots of strength, courage, and energy from it.
When the Taliban captured Kabul, he had retreated from the city and
gone to Jabul-Saraj. It was around twelve o’clock at night when I got
his telephone call. I was very sad; Kabul was in the hands of fanatics.
My friends were out of the city, and it was a bad time. He said, “Did
you hear that we left Kabul?”
“Yes. Are you okay? Are the others okay?”
“Yes,” and he added, “We’ll go back.”
Then he asked, “Do you have something in mind to tell me?” He
was asking for some kind of food for the soul for that moment of his
life—the commander who was retreating from the city and giving it to
the most fanatical people. I told him a verse of my father’s that night:

Oh the cruel, the despot, the oppressor!

I will not indeed be giving that to the one who wants to destroy me.
You will see me in another battle, in another time,
Because God has given hope to my heart,
And this hope will bring me back to what I want to reach.

He was so happy. “That is what I wanted. Hope will take us back!

It’s good that you have told me this tonight. Thank you very much.”
And then he hung up.
(Masood Khalili)

THEY HAD THE POWER

When he left Kabul and went to the Panjshir, his men told me that
they had the power to hold Kabul, but it would have cost one or two
hundred casualties. Massoud would not accept that.
(Farid Zikria)

NO HELP
During the 1990s, I was a commander in Ghazni with Harakat-e-
Islami, a Hazara party, and we were allied with Massoud in the fight
against the Taliban. I had constant contact with him by phone, and
when we were in Kabul I was with him in person almost every day.
Once when the Taliban surrounded Kabul, Massoud had a
meeting with the Iranian ambassador and asked him to try to convince
the other Hazara parties to fight the Taliban because they were trying
to enter and destroy Kabul, because the Taliban had killed one of their
leaders, Massari, and because if there was a resistance from the whole
country the Taliban would not be able to enter Kabul. The Iranians
helped the party fighting against Massoud.
 Everybody at that time knew what the Taliban was, but nobody
helped Massoud. He could have fought from Kabul very well. He had
good strategy and good equipment, but he did not want to destroy
Kabul, so he left the city. He said, “If the fight is here it will affect the
lives of all the people in Kabul. I will leave and continue the
Resistance from the mountains.”
(Aref Shajahan)

THE RESISTANCE REBORN

Everybody knew what the Taliban was, so the people of Kabul fled to
the Panjshir Valley, and the Taliban, Arabs, Pakistanis, and terrorists
followed us. When we arrived in Panjshir, Massoud met with all the
commanders about how we could stop the Taliban from coming in.
Then he met with the elders, and that was when the people told him,
“We fought against the Russians and we will fight against the Taliban,
until our last drop of blood.”
After the people gave their assurance that they would support him,
he tied up his waist and started to give orders. In a place called
Rahitang, which is at the beginning of the Panjshir Valley, he blew out
the road to stop the Taliban from coming in. The mujahideen went to
the top of the mountains to defend, and all the people were digging
positions underground to fight.
In the meantime, the Taliban, the Arabs, and their allies attacked
the Shamali Plains. The commanders from Shamali asked Massoud to
be allowed to go to defend the area. At first he said, “No, we have to
make our position in the Panjshir and then move out from here,” but
the Shamali people kept saying, “Let us go fight; the Taliban are
destroying our homes,” so he let them.
 Then the Taliban began their offensive in the Panjshir Valley. I was
positioned on the road at the entrance of the Panjshir under Bismillah
Khan, and the enemy attacked there to enter the valley. Massoud
would come to report the situation to us, and every time we saw his
face, we were encouraged. What we got from him on the front lines
was the courage, the power, to defeat the Taliban.
When the enemy was defeated in the Panjshir, our troops went to
the Shamali Plains. As soon as the commanders were in position,
Massoud prayed to God with them through the radio, then ordered
the fighting to start. Because of his knowledge, the mujahideen
succeeded in capturing a lot of Taliban and liberating the Shamali
Plains. When the Shamali was free, Massoud arrived, they all kissed
the tasbi [string of prayer beads], and the people brought flowers to
him.
During the fighting, all the people with Massoud were scared. We
thought we were going to die. But when I saw his face, it was strong
and solid, and I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was happy to be able to
spend my life with him.
(Commander Gul Haidar)

HIDDEN INTENTIONS
The Pakistani-imposed Taliban regime in Kabul became the
laughingstock of the world for its apparent intellectual idiocy. Yet this
was another ploy. While I was in Kabul (from 1992 to 2001), the
issue at stake seemed to be Pakistan’s destruction of the Afghan State.
To lobotomize Afghanistan, to provoke the collapse of its entire
health, educational, and administrative system, to turn its educated
women into animals for reproduction, and to make its entire people
appear like mindless barbarians, served the purposes of reducing the
whole country into a permanent Pakistani protectorate. Islamabad’s
implication was that only Pakistan was a responsible, civilized state fit
to administrate its small savage neighbor, filter all international aid to
it, and turn Afghanistan into a corridor for oil pipelines and a haven
for opium fields, guarded by Pakistan’s proxy tribal forces.
(Professor Michael Barry)

THREE THOUSAND PAKISTANIS

Sometimes I got fed up with the war and I blamed him. I asked, “Why
continue with the fight, always fight, fight, fight?” This was in 2000.
He responded that there was one Taliban post that had three
thousand Pakistanis in it. I couldn’t believe it! I thought he was
exaggerating, but when I returned to Japan I talked with somebody in
foreign affairs. He confirmed that number was correct.
Massoud said to me, “We are fighting against terrorism. If we
don’t fight here, the war will only expand.” After September 11, I
finally understood what he was talking about.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

“When I was in Afghanistan in the Fall of 2000, I talked to a

Pakistani prisoner of war who had been trained by bin Laden’s
network. . . . His name was Khaled, and he described Massoud
bitterly as the ‘last wall’ that was keeping al-Qaeda from spreading
fundamentalist Islam throughout Afghanistan and the rest of Asia. If
they lost in Afghanistan, he said, they would be forced to find another
country to use as a base for their global war against the West.
 “Khaled spoke readily, even proudly, about his plans, as did the
twenty or so other prisoners who were with him. They said that they
had come from all over the Islamic world to fight Massoud, and that
if they were killed it didn’t matter, because others would replace them.
It was a religious war, they said, and it was without end.”
(Junger, “Massoud’s Last Conquest,” 140)

[Massoud’s] main concern seemed to be the foreign elements . . . the

Pakistanis that he said are now in Afghanistan fighting along with the
Taliban and providing significant numbers of the Taliban troops. He
put almost as much emphasis on the Arabs who are now running the
various terrorist training camps in Afghanistan that news reports have
also shown fighting with the Taliban.
Commander Massoud actually said that many of the atrocities
committed by the Taliban he felt were due to the very strong influence
of those Wahabi elements that are with the Taliban. He mentioned
specifically the destruction of the Bamyan Buddhas. . . . He also stated
that the Wahabis had urged the Taliban to go beyond the Buddhas
and destroy traditional Afghan Muslim shrines . . . but [the Taliban]
recognized that if they had attempted that, they might have had a
major rebellion. . . . He also mentioned that the massacres in the
Shamali Plains . . . were with the participation of, and urging of, those
outside elements.
(Azadi Afghan Radio interview with Dr. Elie D. Krakowski)

Ahmed Shah Masood: “Pakistan is in search of a ‘strategic depth,’ an

‘Islamic depth.’ Pakistan wants to become a small superpower in the
region. To this end, it has developed nuclear capabilities.
 “If, God forbid, Pakistan succeeds in installing a servile
government in Afghanistan, then by using these same radical Islamic
groups, Pakistan will do likewise in Tajikistan, Uzbekistan,
Turkmenistan—the Central Asian countries.
“Pakistan wants to fill the regional void left by [the] Soviets. And
to reach this goal, it must possess Afghanistan.”
(Massoud, interviewed in Into the Forbidden Zone)

GLOBAL TERRORISM: THE UNHEARD WARNINGS

When I was Afghanistan’s envoy in Pakistan, I watched the Taliban
moving into Afghanistan, and I tried to take the message to the world
—talking in the United States, in Germany, in France. I wanted to tell
them, though it’s very much forgotten, that the fighting in Afghanistan
was a bad war that was going to catch everyone off guard and affect
all of them. Maybe my voice was not strong enough, or I did not
efficiently convey it. I was with Dr. Abdullah, and it was hard for us
to go from one lobby to another in Europe passing Massoud’s
message. He presented the warning in every way that he could. He
even went to the European Parliament, and it cost him his life. Now it
has been shown that he was right.
Every time you have civil war there is blame, but Commander
Massoud was not buying the blame. He was suffering and asking why
the Americans abandoned Afghanistan, why the Europeans
abandoned Afghanistan, why they left us in the hands of these rival
countries. Why didn’t they understand that they had to be with us
until the real end of the war? Massoud predicted that Afghanistan
would be a location of bad wars that would lead to terrorism and
fanaticism. Right from the beginning he predicted this and gave
interview after interview saying it, talking to so many different people.
He spoke to the American ambassador in Islamabad for two or three
hours, and to the journalists and the British.
I wrote in my diary that here is a man called Massoud who is
fighting on behalf of the world, while the world does not know it.
Here is a man who is working day and night against the terrorism that
will become global terrorism one day, and no one knows. We are
trying to bring justice, fighting fanaticism and extremism, and no one
knows. He and his friends are fighting a lonely battle.
The journalists and organizations came, and Massoud told them,
“Yes, I fight for my country, but it’s not just my war; it’s the war of
the world! Be careful, because these are dangerous people.” Whenever
you see Hekmatyar, you see the kind of threat, the kind of terrorism
he was talking about. Hekmatyar and Dostum pretended to join him
in Kabul, but in reality they joined the opposition. Because it was a
proxy war of other countries in the region, they were paving the way
for terrorism to grow, and Hekmatyar had direct links with
international terrorism. It was Commander Massoud’s role to force
people to see that this was the beginning of much bigger problems in
Afghanistan, the region, and the world.
They said that everybody should stop fighting. Well, Commander
Massoud constantly called on the United Nations to interfere and stop
it, because it would not accomplish anything but would lead to
terrorism, but the attention paid to Afghanistan was zero. It was a
100 percent forgotten war. At that time, I remember Mahmoud
Mesteri was appointed as a kind of liaison from the United Nations to
work to bring peace in Afghanistan, but it was such a weak gesture
and it was managed so weakly that sometimes it seemed there was no
envoy at all. He was a nice man, a gentleman, but an old man who did
not have the power to do anything.
We found that after the 11th of September the world paid
attention to Afghanistan; then they focused. If they had focused
vigorously in 1992 or ’93, I am sure the things that happened would
not have happened, but they allowed terrorism to grow in
Afghanistan. The abandonment of Afghanistan was a great mistake in
the foreign policy of the world. When you, as an individual member of
the United Nations Security Council, don’t bring pressure, the people
who fight for the wrong get encouraged. They were financed, they
were helped, armed, and trained, and they were encouraged.
So we were watching and reporting the problem to the world, and
Commander Massoud had to fight and keep fighting until he died on
the 9th of September [2001]. All that fighting in Afghanistan was
caused from outside. You might say, “Why are you all fighting?
Commander Massoud and the others, they are all Afghans. Why don’t
they make peace?” Massoud was definitely, willingly, trying to bring
peace, but not by giving Afghanistan to the terrorists.
So that was it; [in September of 2001] we were one step from
losing Afghanistan to the terrorists. On the 9th of September Massoud
was killed. If the terrorists hadn’t acted on the 11th of September but
had delayed for a year, things would have happened totally
differently. They would not have had the same opportunity.
This is why we had to fight. Massoud was trying to hold on until a
miracle happened. Otherwise, Afghanistan would have gone into the
hands of the terrorists, and slowly and gradually they would have
occupied the other areas in the region. I think Massoud should be
rewarded now for how he kept up the war until he died, and it was
done, directly or indirectly, for the benefit of all mankind. He was a
master of patience and tolerance and vision for the future. His enemies
were trying to use everything about the war to make Commander
Massoud look bad, but he knew that if he lost his country he would
lose the region, would lose everything.
Massoud said in France, “People of the world, please pay attention
to me. Otherwise you will lose it.” Some people are saying now, well,
global terrorism and September 11 happened because of the war in
Afghanistan, but Massoud was telling everyone that when he was in
France. What more could he say? Then the United Nations
condemned both sides!
(Masood Khalili)
 17

A SIMPLE LIFE
A raindrop, dripping from a cloud,
Was ashamed when it saw the sea.
‘Who am I where there is a sea?’ it said.
When it saw itself with the eye of humility,
A shell nurtured it in its embrace.
—Saadi of Shiraz
 SIMPLE WORDS
We never praised Massoud in his presence, and he never expected it.
He just wanted us to use words of simple greeting. People said we
should address him with a title, but he did not want that either. They
called him Commander, and we called him Massoud. Some people
were angry about that, but he was not there to promote himself. He
didn’t need that.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

SHY
The other aspect of Massoud was this timid persona. One would have
a hard time believing it. He was under pressure from certain groups
and religious people to get married, and he always responded that he
was already married—to the war. Of course, there were many young
women in Kapisa, not to mention in the villages, who wanted to be
“the wife of Massoud.”
One time in Takhar we went up on a roof to look at the moon and
the stars. I didn’t understand what he was doing in that house at the
bottom of that valley. He didn’t say anything, but in fact he had come
to get married. Even when we left to spend the night elsewhere, either
out of wisdom or shyness he never let anyone know that he was going
to get married.
 Another thing, whenever someone made a mistake, he wouldn’t
laugh even though he wanted to; he hid his face. Timidity hidden in
the face of a warrior is characteristic of the Oriental mindset.
(Humayun Tandar)

LIKE A KID
When he wasn’t fighting, Massoud was the funniest man in the world.
He loved the water; if he could, he would have been swimming all the
time. His favorite way of relaxing was playing with children in the
water, pushing them around and throwing them. He played like a kid
with the children, always with the children. He wasn’t a leader then;
he played and joked, ran after them and played hide and seek. When
he was around children, he was at his best.
He was an engineer and knew math, and he would make contests
for them—you do this, you read this, you count this, and let’s see who
scores the most. He wanted them to learn. He made up math games
especially for them, and he always checked the schools to see that they
were running well—the books, the chairs, everything.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

AS AN ORDINARY PERSON
When Massoud returned from his trip to meet with the European
Parliament, I and a lot of other Afghans went to the airport to receive
him. Approximately five thousand people—ordinary men and women,
Afghan journalists, and foreign journalists—were there. When he got
off the plane, I went to him with Abdul Wodod, who is Massoud’s
nephew, while the rest waited in the terminal. After seeing all those
people, Massoud said to us, “You should have come to pick me up as
if I were an ordinary person. There was no need to trouble so many
citizens of my country.”
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

IN THE BACK
When Muslim people pray together, they call it jammaat. At jammaat
Massoud would always be in the back. He did not want to bother
anyone, and nobody would know he was there. He just wanted to
pray, not to appear important. In my mind he was the most important
person in the whole world, but he never acted like it.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

IF YOU WANT TO EAT WITH ME

At night, sometimes Massoud would ask us to stay with him for
dinner, but he would always say, “If you want to eat simple food like
soup, stay with me, but if you want to eat rice and more exotic foods,
go to other people.” It is common to hear that in Afghanistan. It
means I do not have much to offer but you are welcome to stay,
because in Afghanistan the people who are not well off usually eat
soup.
I am not trying to say that Massoud didn’t eat rice or other food.
Of course he did, and he tried to provide as much as he could, but my
point is that he was a very simple person.
(Farid Zikria)
“. . . I often saw him walk from the guest-house I was staying at to his
office, with just a couple of companions, ignoring the pomp and
display of other leaders. He was a national figure with a national
vision, but he was also a ‘Panjshiri.’”
(Roger Plunk, “Breakfast with Massoud,” The Source,
December 1, 2001, http://www.peace-
initiatives.com/breakfast.htm)

A VERY PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP

When we were in Kabul, I was the last one to say goodnight. Around
one in the morning, I would sit by his bed, talking quietly, nothing
about the events of the day or problems or issues of concern, just a
few peaceful words and he would go to sleep. Then I would pull my
hand away gently, not to wake him, leave the room and tell everybody
that he was going to sleep. He was staying in a guesthouse at that
time, so I used to go to my own house for the night.
He was sensitive. There were people who would come to wake him
with loud voices saying that it was eight or nine o’clock. He didn’t like
that. He wanted to be treated in a gentle manner, so I woke him in the
way he wanted. He would want to know what was happening. I
wouldn’t tell him then if there was bad news; I would give him time to
wake up, wash his hands, and come back. Then I would tell him, just
to give him a little bit of relief.
When he heard certain kinds of news, he would be sort of shaken
but always controlled his attitude and behavior, dealing with difficult
things calmly. Mainly, it was because of his faith. He believed in God
very deeply, with a fine, very personal sort of relationship.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

SPEAKING WITH GENERALS

In 1996, I was at the house where Massoud sometimes stayed in
Kabul. He came in and asked who I was, and they told him that I was
Haron [Amin]’s brother, so we shook hands and I told him, “Thank
Allah that you were able to stop all the bloodshed which was going on
for so long in Kabul.”
Normally, if you say something like that to a general, he feels pride
and tells you, oh yes, it was my party, it was my power, etc. Others
would have acted pompous, if not with words, at least with their body
language. He could have rightfully said, “Yes, I did it; I defeated
them,” but I did not hear that from him.
What he said was, “Oh, Brother, by the time we finished, there
was nothing left for the people.”
(Farid Amin)

WHO SAT FIRST

I think the first time I met Massoud was in 1991 in Peshawar, when
he went to meet with other mujahideen leaders like Haqani and Abdul
Haq. In Afghan tradition, the senior commander usually sits first, so
this was offered to Massoud. Instead, Massoud asked Haqani, a
commander and older religious leader from Paktia, to sit first and to
start the meeting. Then he waited until all the others sat before he did.
 (Sayed Hamed Mohammad Elmi)

I CANNOT BEAR IT
Massoud was getting dressed. Trying to help, somebody moved his
shoes closer to him, but he said, “Don’t touch my shoes. I cannot bear
the burden of somebody doing these things for me,” and he went and
picked them up himself.
(Haron Amin)

NOT THE MAN THEY THOUGHT

Massoud received delegations in his house. For example, Ismael Khan
and Karim Khalili (Hazara) stayed with him, because there was no
other place in the Panjshir. I feel that they and the other commanders
had a kind of jealousy toward Massoud, but they changed their minds
when they found that he was not the man they thought he was.
Massoud never had a servant. Sometimes he brought the food to
his guests and served it himself. All his life he prepared his own food
and lived very simply. I think he was trying to be as close as possible
to the Prophet of Islam. Even though the Prophet had a huge empire,
he lived like an ordinary person.
(Haroun Mir)

ONE HUNDRED PERCENT

When I saw Massoud the first time, I was impressed that he
immediately connected with people and was so attentive toward them.
For example, he was capable of interrupting himself because a
teaspoon was missing in the cup of a guest; it could have been a
servant or the president. He was attentive to people’s wants, to their
requests, to the questions they posed. He would give 100 percent of
himself, even when his day had been extremely difficult. And he was
exactly what people said he was, never trying to pass for anything
else.
(Pilar-Hélène Surgers)

THE FAULTS OF OTHERS

A friend of Massoud became corrupt. I asked why he didn’t say
anything to the man. He said, “I am the kind of person that, when
somebody comes and says someone else did bad things, I try to
dismiss it. I don’t like backbiting or criticizing behind my friends’
backs. But in this case, it would have been better for us and for him if
I had spoken to him earlier. Then perhaps he would not be corrupt
now, so corrupt he does not have a way back.” He blamed himself for
that, even for the faults of somebody else.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

GET TO THE POINT

When Massoud met with his commanders, the people who worked
with him and ordinary people, he asked them to make their requests
as short as possible. Every opportunity that people got to meet
Massoud, they would begin with flowery words that decorated the
whole situation. He wanted to avoid that, so each time they met, he
asked his commanders and soldiers, after saying hello in the Afghan
tradition, to get to the point and tell him what the problem was.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

WHAT PRESS CONFERENCE?

To me, Massoud looked so innocent, like a boy. Sometimes when he
was talking, he would blush with shyness. Can you believe that? A
man who wasn’t scared of anything in the world, but was shy!
In 1988 or ’89, I arranged for him to come to Pakistan. I wanted
to call journalists and representatives from different ethnic groups for
a big press conference where Massoud could sit with Pashtuns, Tajiks,
and so forth. Massoud asked, “What press conference?” and he made
excuses. I said, “I know what I am doing and I am going to do it.”
Afterwards, he asked if I could bring only a few people, because he
would feel shy in front of a hundred. When I said, “Oh, I can’t believe
that,” he just smiled, pressing his teeth against his lower lip as he
always did, and told me, “The smaller, the better.” Believe me, I held
a press conference with only ninety people and I was beside him every
minute.
(Masood Khalili)

OF COURSE WE WILL TALK

Massoud, and to a lesser extent Abdul Haq, would never dream of
trying to manipulate journalists; it just didn’t occur to them. I
wondered if this was political naivete but concluded that it was more
Afghan hospitality. They were thinking, these people have come all
this way to see us—they have gone through fatigue and endured
hardship to come to see us—of course we are going to talk to them.
(Edward Girardet)

WHAT WILL YOU DO?

I asked him one day, “Massoud, what are you planning for the future?
What kind of a position in the government would you like to have
when you finish with the Taliban?” He thought for a long time, then
said, “Among all the jobs, the only one I would really want is teacher
in a village; that’s the thing I would like to do.”
(Reza Deghati)

THE DIARIES
For many years Massoud had a habit of writing every night in a diary
about what he had done during the day, so he had a lot of diaries.
Some are with me now, and when I open them for a few minutes and
read, I can see how determined this man was in what he wanted to
achieve. For example, he says, “I want to get myself disciplined, but it
seems I cannot. Tonight I promise myself that I will be disciplined
from this time forward.” So he talks to himself, he makes
commitments to himself, and then he gets started.
In other pages he writes about his family. When he got married he
was not exactly sure what would happen, but after a while he realized
how much he loved his wife. He really appreciated her, and he
appreciated her mother for the support she gave them.
His character had so many dimensions. On one hand he was a
strong fighter, on the other hand he was someone who talked about
poetry, his social life, and his affections. Of course, he was also a
politician. All of those different dimensions are in his diaries.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

Saturday, March 1986

Piow Training Center

Most regretfully, this morning I went to bed half an hour earlier than
usual, at 5 a.m., and woke up an hour later than I usually do. This
irregularity delayed the reports from the fields, which were
incomplete, and I was not able to attend the training and sport
activities of the mujahideen on time.

November 5, 1989
Piow Training Center

It occurs to me that after this I have to live based on a complete

program and shouldn’t deviate even slightly from it. Although the
situation and my own inherent behavior are such that it makes a
program difficult to follow, I will pressure myself to observe it. I hope
and pray to God to give me strength and bless me with success.
(Excerpts from the diaries of Ahmad Shah Massoud, translated by
personnel of the Afghan Embassy in London, pages 25, 28–29)
 THE COMPLIMENT
Amer Saheb had put on some nice perfume, and I could not resist
telling him how fine he was looking, mashallah (praise God)! He was
kind of upset and said, “What are you talking about? Why are you
saying that to me?” and he gave me a very sharp look. It was as if he
were hearing such a thing for the very first time. Imagine, this great
hero, this warrior, the winner of the Cold War and the war against the
Soviets—such an excellent person, and he had never been praised like
that before!
(Masood Khalili)

MAKING HIS ENTRANCE

In Afghanistan, if a group of people are sitting in a room, when an
important person comes in everyone stands up as a sign of respect. I
saw many times when Massoud entered a room he was very quick and
sat down right away by the door to keep everybody from standing up
for him. Sometimes he even signaled with his hand for them not to
stand.
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

NO SAINT
It’s part of our culture that when we respect an elder or somebody we
consider spiritual, then we kiss their hands when we meet them. I met
Massoud many times, and every time I tried to kiss his hand he would
say, “Don’t kiss my hand. I am not a Syed [a descendent of the
Prophet Mohammad] and I am not a saint.”
In Kabul I joked with him. I said, “Amer Saheb, you won’t allow
me to kiss your hand, so I will do it when you are not looking.” But
every time, he pulled his hand out of my grip. He was so strong and
had such a force that I couldn’t hold it, although I am taller and
stronger.
(Sayed Hamed Mohammad Elmi)

THE MERCEDES FROM DUBAI

One of his drivers, Jul Mad Khan, told me that a guy who was
associated with Massoud did some purchasing for him, and he
brought a Mercedes from Dubai. When Massoud saw it he said,
“Why did you bring this? We could build a school with this! What am
I going to do with this car?”
(Farid Amin)

NOTHING MATERIAL
When Massoud was among his mujahideen he always looked like
them. Nothing in him differed from them. He dressed like them and
shared food with them. Massoud did not behave like other leaders; he
was humble and simple. After his death, the only thing he left was his
family and his great reputation—nothing material. He did not
accumulate any personal wealth, inside or outside of the country.
(Yunnus Qanooni)
 EMPTY POCKETS
Massoud was a man with no interest in wealth. His pockets used to be
empty of money. Although he accepted the small amounts of money
his friends and fans sent him as gifts, he never kept it. He handed it
over to one of his men and told them to keep it because, “we will have
a future.”
(Daoud Zulali)

AFGHAN TAG
At the beginning of the war, when he was going from one village to
another, the kids from about four to ten years old would all be
playing along the road. Whenever Massoud passed, they would hide
behind the walls. They would say, “Saalam aleikum,” to Massoud,
popping suddenly from behind the walls and trying to surprise him.
And Massoud would play with them, always trying to be faster, to tell
them Saalam aleikum first. He was very gentle with all kids.
(Mohammad Shuaib)

ONE TABLE AND A PICTURE

When the Resistance started, we had to go to the mountains with the
mujahideen. We worked together there, and we had two rooms—one
was for the family and the other for Massoud’s library. My mom had
already passed away, so we were only two sisters with him.
 Massoud asked us, “You know, I have a friend from another city.
Could you please allow him to stay tonight with you in our room,
because I want to talk with him for two or three hours?” And we told
him, “Yes, you can do it.” Neither of us sisters was married.
We had only one table in this room. It was like our refuge. One of
us had a picture of Massoud, and it was on the table. He was away
for many days at a time, and we were happy to have his picture with
us there. It was a bad time; we often didn’t have anything to eat.
Massoud looked over our room to see if it was all right for the
visitor, and he saw that there was only the table and the picture. He
didn’t say anything but took the picture and put it away. He did not
want to show off, so he did not want the visitor to enter the room and
see the picture. I told him, “But that picture is mine. You can’t do that
with my picture!” He didn’t speak at first but just looked at me. Then
he very kindly said, “Honey, I know that is yours, but, please, while
the visitor is here don’t show him the picture.”
(Maryam Massoud)

TRANSPARENT
In 1991, when Massoud was in Pakistan, he gave a press conference. I
wondered how he would respond to these journalists, who were from
very important publications (Time, BBC, etc.). He was bombarded
with questions, but Massoud chose his answers cleverly, answering
very completely and with no gaps to incite further questions.
After an hour, the reporters were quiet. So Massoud asked them,
“Do you have any more questions?” Finally, a lady from the French
press said, “Tell us a little bit about your family.” And he said, “Why
do you ask about that?” And she said, “Because we don’t have any
more questions!”
The difference is that other political leaders try to avoid questions,
but Massoud didn’t. We are accustomed, as journalists, to hurry our
questions because politicians so often try to escape, but Massoud
answered them all. He laughed a lot, and at the end he said, “I hope
to see you later, in a free Afghanistan.”
(Sayed Hamed Mohammad Elmi)

OFF THE WALLS

Sometimes photographers came and took photos of Massoud. They
asked stupid questions and we would be upset, but Amer Saheb never
was, because they were foreigners and they came to know what the
situation was. They were our guests. I know other leaders like people
to take photos of them, but Amer Saheb wasn’t like that. I have never
seen him get ready or pose for a photo.
The little commanders in Afghanistan are like other leaders in the
world; they like to show off. The extreme Islamic leaders want their
pictures to be taken too, and to show off on TV. In the communist
regime, they used to put posters big and small of their leaders on the
walls, so when the mujahideen got to Kabul, somebody made
Massoud’s picture very big and placed it on the walls, because he was
the one who defeated the Russians.
At first, when he came to Kabul, there were many of his pictures in
the streets, but he gave orders to take them all off. When he saw little
pictures on somebody’s car or some other place, he would stop his car
and have his bodyguards take them off. In 1991–95, when he was the
second-ranked person in the regime, if he went to ministers’ offices
and saw his picture there, he would immediately tell the officials,
“Please take that photo off the wall.”
Now again there are many photos of Massoud in Afghanistan, and
I don’t like it because he did not like it. I asked Daoud, who is now in
the government, if he could please take all the photos of Amer Saheb
off the walls. If we have him in our hearts, we don’t need pictures on
the walls.
(Ahmad Jamshid)
 18

THE PANJSHIR
Massoud used to say, “If you want medicine, eat the
grass of the Panjshir and all your illnesses will be cured.”
—Dr. Mohammad Sidiq

The mystery of the Panjshir . . . a valley that could

never be conquered by the enemy in those twenty-
three years of war. There seemed to be a certain
harmony, which was strange to me because the times
were extremely difficult. So I asked and asked each
one of the people I interviewed. Let’s listen. . . .
“The Red Army was vanquished in the Panjsher eight times between
1979–1988. The Soviet Union’s defeat was not only a defeat in
Afghanistan, but led to the collapse of the Soviet system and was
followed by the liberation of the Central Asian and Eastern European
countries from Moscow’s control.”
(Mehran, “Ahmad Shah Massoud: A Biography”)

OLD MEN WITH STICKS

Massoud told me with a lot of emotion that when he got back to the
Panjshir in 1979, after the communist coup in Kabul and before the
Russian invasion, the whole population in the Panjshir rose with him.
They pushed the communists right out of the valley, because in 1979
the communist government was running Kabul and the people were
against that. He told me that old men with sticks were marching down
the road to get to the next enemy position. In two or three weeks, he
found himself in control of the whole Panjshir Valley.
(Anthony Davis)

A FORMIDABLE BASTION
Do not tell me that the Panjshir is not conquerable. It is one valley
among hundreds of valleys that are very similar, and it has access to
six or seven provinces. It can be invaded.
To defend the Panjshir, Massoud turned unity into strength by
teaching people, by taking care of them. Beyond and above all was the
Commander’s feeling for the ordinary man, feeling for the person who
was at the front line—making sure that he was fed, making sure that
he was clothed, making sure that he would persevere. That guarantees
successful war.
People trusted that Massoud would look after them, and he did, so
he was able not only to keep the Panjshir Valley as a formidable
bastion but he was able to expand it. When he accepted a truce with
the Soviets, he used the time to establish bases similar to the Panjshir
through northern Afghanistan.
(Haron Amin)

POKING THEM IN THE EYE

The Panjshir developed a special situation in the early stages of the
war, because the Russians kept having to come back. There were two
offensives in 1980, one in 1981, and another big offensive in 1982.
There was the cease-fire, and then they came back and there were
seven offensives in 1984. They kept on coming back with hundreds of
tanks, thousands of men, and helicopters that you wouldn’t believe. I
remember in 1982 sitting on a mountain during a Russian offensive. I
was higher than the helicopters, and it looked like a bus service, there
were so many of them going back and forth from the valley.
When they put an offensive against the Panjshir, it was a very big
military event. There was a lot of hardware, and lots of people. So the
population of the Panjshir came to realize that they were the ones
poking the Soviets in the eye. The ordinary people, the villagers of the
Panjshir, were standing against an empire.
(Anthony Davis)

“The Panjshir Valley is a world apart from the rest of Afghanistan.

There is plenty of food and clean water and unlike in many other
regions in the country, people in the Panjshir have hope for the future.
The feeling here is totally different. People are excited; they are alive;
they are building houses and bridges. . . .
“In the Panjshir Valley, Massoud was both an army general and
head of the local school board. The fact is that he led every civilian
effort in the Panjshir. One ambitious project was improving literacy.
Massoud was trying to change that by building new schools that
would be open to everyone, not just boys. He also helped women to
work in the hospitals.”
(Sebastian Junger, interviewed in Into the Forbidden Zone)

LIKE THE SHIRE

When I was in the Panjshir it was very peaceful. Massoud had this
village, this kind of idyllic village. Of course, there was a lot of
poverty there because of the war.
Did you see The Lord of the Rings? There is a place called Shire,
and the Shire is a peaceful place and people go about their lives. And
the Panjshir is like the Shire: It is very quaint, the little houses are
beautiful, and there is a river that flows through it, surrounded by
mountains and valleys.
 (Roger L. Plunk)

“[T]he water [ran] fast and clear between tall blue daisies. . . . Fields
of ripening wheat and maize, neatly terraced between high stone
walls, fell away to the river on our right. Big, solid, mud and timber
houses, some with a stone foundation, were dotted about the smiling
valley, some like miniature castles, their flat roofs already laden with
rounded stacks of hay and winter fodder. When we came to a group
of heavily-laden apricot trees, the mujahideen climbed up and shook
the boughs, bringing down a golden rain of apricots. They were sweet
and juicy, and the old man and woman to whom they presumably
belonged smiled and told us to help ourselves.”
(Gall, Behind Russian Lines, 62)

IN THE MARKET
The Panjshir and Takhar were completely separate from the Russian
sector. They had their own government, and taxes were collected.
Sometimes shopkeepers tried to sell their goods for more money, and
it was Massoud’s passion to make sure that the prices were fair. In
those ten years of war against the Russians, I don’t remember
anybody stealing from others. Basically, there was no crime.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

HE IS AMER SAHEB
During Massoud’s time, nobody would be involved in corruption
because they were afraid of his name. If they were about to do
something wrong, the feeling would come to their mind, oh, he is
Amer Saheb. Because they knew he was really serious and was really
trying to help the people, they could not do it. Instead, people would
try to do good to make Massoud happy. If he saw something wrong,
he hated that, and he was like a member of everybody’s family.
(Eisa Khan Ayoob Ayoobi)

A FAMILY THING
The sense of harmony in the Panjshir was developed over years and in
the course of events. Massoud passed the test in many different ways,
and he did not betray the people; he was honest in all cases. The
people came and asked for solutions for their problems, and if he was
able to help, he would tell them. He was very open about the
problems. Later, not only in the Panjshir but in Farkhar also, the same
thing developed. It became like a family thing. He was a young person
but he was like the head of the family for everyone—for the elderly,
the religious leaders, the commanders. In Farkhar, in Borzak even, in
the same spirit you would have found that people trusted him,
respected him, and believed in him.
Right from the beginning there was a sort of genuine natural
leadership, which his personality developed over the years. People had
extreme respect for him. They were not afraid to talk with him, and
they were not afraid of criticizing him. So he let people grow the sense
of their togetherness and freedom with him, and in that way he came
to know their problems. The children in the Panjshir would go up to
him and say, “Amer Saheb, how are you?” Then he would ask them
something and let them play with him, let them compete and spend
time with him.
The other leaders and military commanders did not do those
things. At that time, being a commander meant that somebody was
harsh and had too many horses and bodyguards. The commanders
and subordinates would be riding horses, and the bodyguards would
be running behind the horses, etc. Without Commander Massoud
telling people what to do, those commanders saw his attitude towards
the people. For example, when he went to the villages in the north of
Afghanistan, he would pay for his food. That was totally new for
people. It had been the habit of the other commanders to simply come
and everybody had to prepare their food. So the people learned that
things could be different.
It was a family in which everybody had chosen one person as the
head. So there would be nothing you could not talk about to that
person. You would share happiness, and you would share sadness.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

BEYOND ALL TOLERANCE

In the early days of jihad, Massoud was wounded and was surrounded
by Russians and communist government troops in the Panjshir.
According to Kaka Tajuddin (the man who later became Massoud’s
father-in-law), he was very close to being captured. He threw himself
from his horse in a field and took refuge there, among the tall
standing corn. Then a woman from the area found him and hid him,
and he was saved. He always remembered that.
On another occasion, there was heavy fighting and a woman was
cooking bread for us. Her daughter came in and told her that her son
had been killed. The woman, with great strength, said, “Let us finish
the cooking.” While she was busy cooking, her daughter was also hit
and killed.
According to Massoud, the women of the Panjshir suffered beyond
all tolerance, and even so, they still helped the Resistance. That should
never be forgotten.
(Ahmad Shah Farzan)

ALL MY SONS
We went to a house in Kohshaba that belonged to Mozaffar. His son
had been wounded by the Russians and had just died on the floor.
Mozaffar’s wife and daughter kept the body in another room. At the
same time, they took care of Massoud, bringing him food, and the
wife said to him, “God protect you. I give all of my sons to you and to
God.”
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

HER WAY
Coming back from training in Pakistan, around sunset we reached a
place called Khawja Siyaran, north of Shamali. It was Ramadan.
There was a little village with a big house, and Saber, Aman, and I
knocked at the door. An old lady answered and invited us in. She told
us, “Everybody in my family has died. I have nobody, and I cannot
wage war because I am old, but I baked these twenty-one loaves of
bread as my way to help.”
 Any resistance movement will succeed if it has the heart and
sentiment of the people.
(Haron Amin)

Without experiencing the desperate circumstances

they endured, it is hard for us as readers to understand
how remarkable were the strange harmony and
courage of Massoud and those who fought beside
him. Perhaps these letters, translated by Engineer
Mohammed Eshaq, from Massoud to the Jamiat
leadership in Peshawar will paint a clearer picture of
the grim realities that fostered this secret of the
Panjshir.

OCTOBER 31, 1982:

“. . . We spent most of our ammunition during the second offensive
and were not even left with enough for defense. Though the enemy
has retreated from the upper valley, it decided to remain in Rukha and
Anabe and has begun to strengthen its positions. . . . Despite our
repeated requests, Peshawar did not send us ammunition in time to
prevent them from consolidating their positions. . . . When we
received some ammunition a few days ago, we began to attack them. .
. . If the battle continues two weeks we will (again) face shortages of
ammunition. . . .
 “Our next major problem is lack of food for about one thousand
families. . . . If they are not assisted very quickly, we will face a real
crisis.
“Your mujahideen do not have shoes and warm clothes. . . . Try to
send us at least three thousand boots, uniforms, woolen sweaters, and
gloves. The weather this winter is colder. . . .
“We have borrowed two and a half million afghanis from traders
in Khench and five hundred thousand more from shopkeepers. I do
not know how to pay back the loans.”

DECEMBER 23, 1982:

“Lack of food, warm clothes and boots, closure of supply lines . . .
and sustained aerial bombardment . . . in the lower parts of the valley
have made life almost unbearable. When the situation was better, we
weren’t able to buy food to store; now we have neither the cash nor is
there anything to buy. . . .
“We borrow the needed wheat from Paryan and Dara and
transport it on the mujahideen’s backs. (Pack animals could not be
used due to heavy snow and the rugged mountain routes.) For a week,
the mujahideen of Chemalwarda had to live on three potatoes a day. .
..
“The living conditions of displaced people in the mountains and
those who have gone north is extremely critical. The economic
situation of the mujahideen families is worrisome; hundreds of
mujahideen are asking . . . to go to Pakistan or Iran to work so they
can feed their families. . . .
“Heavy snowfall and cold weather have exacerbated the problems.
. . . The mujahideen lend each other coats and boots when they go to
the front. To avoid aerial bombardments, the women and children
climb into the mountains at dawn and hide in caves until after sunset.
...
“This is the situation. . . . We pray to God to solve our problems,
because it is beyond the ability of man. . . .”

JUNE 5, 1983:
“. . . I had sent you a work plan with a list of the money and weapons
to implement it. . . . Now that six months has passed, I have not
received any of the items I asked for. . . . I had written that if you were
not able to supply our needs you should tell us to limit the scope of
our work. You wrote back that Jamiat had accepted the plan and
would supply the requests. . . .
“Don’t you realize under what difficult circumstances we are
working? Don’t you realize that the plan we had drawn up . . . would
have inflicted many losses on the Soviets? The plan fell apart due to
lack of attention paid to it. Because of my desire for this work and my
trust in your promises, I worked hard . . . to launch coordinated
attacks from several centers [at the proper time]. Now I find that I do
not have the resources to implement the plan, and I don’t know how
to continue the work. . . .”

JUNE 24, 1984:

“. . . More than one hundred thousand people from [this area] are
living as refugees. These people left their homes for the sake of God
and they have no income. . . . They have lost their houses, cattle, and
farms as a result of the enemy’s attacks and live difficult lives as
refugees. If they are not immediately provided with assistance of cash
and clothing, a disaster could happen. The enemy has not been able to
take these people away from us, despite promises of the good life and
threats of imprisonment. They have made sacrifices beyond our
expectations and our victory is, in large part, due to these sacrifices.”

SEPTEMBER 1, 1984:
“. . . Tell us what to do. Can ‘we have nothing to give you’ fill empty
stomachs and cover bare feet? I write from the qarargah of
Chemalwarda. The two hundred mujahideen here have no lunch. . . .
We cannot even find dried mulberries and talkhan (mulberry powder)
because all the houses are burned. . . .”

SEPTEMBER 17, 1984:

“According to new information, the Russians will soon launch their
third offensive. God help us. All our material means are exhausted.
We look to God’s help; we have no other means.”

WITH EVERYTHING THEY HAD

The secret of Massoud’s success was his friendships and his
relationships with his people. The twenty thousand followers of
Massoud were ready for any sacrifice to reach the goal. One cannot
find that level of sacrifice among any other Afghan group.
I saw it myself in 1999. I was with Massoud in Beharak,
Badakhshan. He wholeheartedly mingled with people, listened to
them, learned about their problems, and promised to help. I talked to
the people of the Panjshir, and I found out that although they lost
their property, their houses were demolished, their agricultural
production was destroyed, and their orchards and vineyards were
burned during the prolonged wars, they loved Massoud and were
ready to help and protect him with everything they had.
(Ahmad Shah Farzan)

SOMETHING IN THE HEART

Massoud gave the order to nearly 150,000 old men, young men,
women, and children to leave the Panjshir, and the valley was
completely bombed. For a hundred kilometers you could not see one
single home that had not collapsed—every single home, road, and
shop. Even after all that, the people stood behind Massoud. Nobody
left to join the Russians or the communist government.
He didn’t give away money or jobs, so nobody could understand
why, although they lost their homes, their things, their money, their
shops, the people still stuck with Massoud. There was something in
his leadership, in the heart. It is a spiritual secret that you could find
only in the Panjshir.
You see Sadam in Iraq. He used to rule a country with more than
twenty million people, but when he faced attacks from the Americans,
people left him. Even though he had money, banks, oil, everything, he
was not in the hearts of the Iraqi people. What I am trying to say is,
we have knowledge of many leaders in the history of humanity who
ruled millions of people, but they ruled by fear. If you didn’t obey
their orders you would be killed or put in jail.
To say that without jail, without creating fear, without money,
people would do something because it was Massoud’s opinion! He did
not even say it in an angry way, just, “We are facing the dangers of
the Soviet Army. They are coming to destroy the Panjshir, and we
need to leave. No one can be left in the Panjshir, and we will leave the
Soviets to face the mountains.” Everybody accepted, and that was it.
Somebody told me that Massoud cried when he saw, from the
summit of the mountains, that people were walking out of the valley,
some with their sheep, even ladies over eighty years old. I thought, oh
God, what kind of people are these? But he did not say, “Look how
they love me.” He said, “Look how they love their God!” He did not
count on his leadership. He counted on the people’s relationship with
Allah, and he was just reminding them.
(Abdullah Anas)

THE SIZE OF MY HAT

In 1996, after the collapse of Kabul into the hands of the Taliban,
Massoud stood up in a mosque in the Panjshir Valley in front of all
the people, took off his hat, pointed it at them, and said, “I have
decided to fight the Taliban and Al-Qaeda, and even if I had only a
piece of a land the size of my hat, I would stand and fight. I want you
to choose your way; I am not going to force anyone. This is a fight
between right and wrong. I chose my way. I decided to fight these
people. If anybody wants to join me in this fight, come with me. If you
don’t want to, that’s okay too.”
The young ones began to sign their names to join Massoud’s
forces. Even the older people wanted to fight. And that’s when the
Resistance began again, from the Panjshir Valley.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)
 19

THE LIGHTER SIDE

One day, a neighbor went to see Mulla Nasreddin and complained that in his
house there was no sunshine. The Mulla asked him, “Is there sunshine in your
garden?” “Yes, of course,” answered the man. “Then, why don’t you move
the house into it?”
—Stories from the Sufi Master Nasreddin, Ediciones Dervish International,
1993, 112, translated by Marcela Grad
 DESPERATE PROPAGANDA
Some of his enemies put out propaganda about one of Massoud’s ears.
They said he did not have one of his ears, that because he always wore
his pakul tilted over to one side he must be missing one ear. They
could not find any other faults, so they had to focus on that.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

MEETING AT NIGHT
Once Massoud had called a meeting with all the mullahs in the valley.
Two of them did not come. It was evening, and the Commander sent
Bismillah Khan to bring them so they could start. He had also said
something to Bismillah Khan about the French women doctors who
were working in the valley—that they needed something—and
Bismillah Khan must have understood that he had to bring the women
too.
At ten in the evening in a small village in Afghanistan it is late, and
there at the meeting of the mullahs were these two lady doctors. We
laughed with Massoud and made jokes about that. If you put it in the
context of the time and the situation—the middle of the war with the
Soviets, just to allow them to be there, just that, was a kind of
courageous step.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)
“Massoud asked Dr. Abdullah for a pen, and Dr. Abdullah drew one
out of his tailored cashmere jacket. ‘I recognize that pen, it’s mine,’
Massoud said. He was joking. ‘Well, in a sense everything we have is
yours,’ Dr. Abdullah replied. ‘Don’t change the topic. Right now I’m
talking about this pen.’ Massoud wagged his finger at Dr. Abdullah,
then turned to the serious business of preparing the offensive.”
(Junger, Fire, 210)

YOUR HALF
We were climbing a mountain to get to the next village. Massoud was
sort of competing—he would go a little bit faster, then slower, then
when I got close to him he would go fast again so I couldn’t catch
him.
I continued on. Then I found half an apple on top of a rock, placed
so that when you passed it you could not miss seeing it. In the middle
of the trek, I was thirsty and exhausted, and he left it for me. This was
an example of his caring for friends: making jokes in the middle of a
serious situation, but in a way that everybody felt comfortable and
sort of lighter.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

SECRET SON
When Massoud got married, he was in hiding and only five or six
people knew about it. Later, we were in a place called Pew in the
province of Takhar. We all stayed at Tajuddin’s place because
Massoud was always there. We didn’t know that Tajuddin had
become his father-in-law.
Every afternoon, when Massoud finished working, he would go to
the house and bring back a child, and people asked whose it was.
They said it must be Tajuddin’s son, because he had a baby son about
that age. Massoud carried the boy everywhere. Ahmad [Massoud’s
son] was just two months old at the time.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

TELLING ON ME
Engineer Eshaq had a computer and printer he used to print Afghan
News, a newsletter, and he didn’t allow anybody to touch them. That
was his habit. I was in the Panjshir and Commander Massoud said to
me jokingly, “I heard that you play with Engineer Eshaq’s computer
all the time, and I’m going to tell him.” He was always trying to pull
something on you.
(Mohammad Shuaib)

“Then there was the incredible but just possible tale of Massoud and
one of his commanders, who had recently been to inspect the southern
front lines by jeep. Somehow they had taken a wrong turn, lost the
route, and driven unarmed into the heart of a Taliban stronghold.
“Massoud, instantly recognized and facing almost certain death,
demanded confidently to see their leader. So baffled were his hosts at
the sudden appearance of their arch-enemy, they obliged, and a
cordial exchange was reported between the rival leaders. Their
meeting was just long enough not to offend custom, but short enough
to prevent the Taliban from realizing that Massoud’s appearance in
their midst was nothing more than a one-in-a-million mistake.”
(Jason Elliot, An Unexpected Light: Travels in Afghanistan,
London: Picador, 1999, 76)

A RUMOR REFUTED
At one time in the early ’80s, there was information, let’s call it that,
that Massoud was “a fundamentalist,” but the truth was that he loved
to listen—perhaps a little on the sly, but that’s okay—to the songs of
Ahmad Zaher, who was thought of as the Elvis Presley of Kabul.
(Humayun Tandar)

POETRY AMONG FRIENDS

It wasn’t that Massoud read poetry to all the soldiers, but sometimes,
on special occasions, he used poetry to boost morale and to give
another sense of what the mission was. Usually, it was only around
the commanders or a few friends. He would read or recite it, and then
he would make a joke with Bismillah Khan, who was a friend.
Massoud would ask him, “What’s the meaning of this passage?”
Bismillah Khan would not know, but he would try to say something.
Then Massoud would respond, “Well, of course, it is not for the
mullah to explain.”
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)
 THE RIGHT MEDICINE
When we were in grade school, my father bought a bicycle for me.
After a few days Massoud got sick, and I told my father, “You bought
a bicycle for me but not one for Massoud. Maybe if you buy
something for him it will help him to recover.” And my father bought
him a new Russian bicycle.
Massoud was lying on his bed, and I went to him and showed him
the new bicycle. “Look, this is new and it is for you!” Believe me, he
stood up right then and rode that bicycle. He was not sick anymore; it
was the right medicine for him.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

SERIOUS BUSINESS
One night, we welcomed a new team of doctors in the Panjshir and
they were drinking tea. Massoud and some friends came in, sat down,
and began a discussion with very serious faces. The doctors were quite
impressed, but they remained silent, just drinking their tea. I listened
to the conversation for maybe an hour, then the men left.
The doctors asked if they were talking about the Soviet offensive,
about organizing the defense of the valley. They were quite anxious to
know. Actually, Massoud and his men were talking about their wives
in sexual terms, how to seduce and make love to them, what to do
and what not to do. It was respectful, and they pretended to be very
solemn, but it was a game in which they were trying to leave an
impression on the doctors while, in fact, they were ready to laugh.
(Jean-José Puig)
 BATTERIES
At a press conference, Engineer Eshaq wanted to put a tape recorder
in front of Massoud, and Massoud asked, “Is the tape recorder
working?” Eshaq said yes. “Do you have batteries in your recorder?”
Eshaq said yes. “Are your batteries strong, are they working?”
I said, “Amer Saheb, Engineer Eshaq’s batteries never work!”
Massoud laughed heartily, because in our culture, if you tell a man
that his batteries don’t work it means he is sexually weak. So he
laughed a lot, and when he laughed, a reporter took his picture and it
appeared in Time magazine.
(Sayed Hamed Mohammad Elmi)

FRIENDLY PERSUASION
Some mujahideen did not have shoes and had asked Amer Saheb to
get them some. One day he came to Baad Qool, and my brother asked
him about the shoes. He joked with my brother: “No, I am not going
to give you any shoes.”
Later, they had to cross the river, and my brother, Mir Ata Khan,
was carrying Amer Saheb on his shoulders because he was all dressed
up. When they got to the middle of the river, my brother stopped and
said to him, “Do you want to give us shoes, or would you like to get
wet?” Massoud laughed and said, “Don’t get me wet; I’ll get you the
shoes!”
(Eisa Khan Ayoob Ayoobi)
 JOKING IN JANGALAK
In 1999, I was with Massoud in Jangalak. It was night and we were
sitting without a lamp. My political beliefs were different from most
educated people in the town, even my family, so Massoud jokingly
said to somebody, referring to me, “And now I am not even sure if he
is one of my supporters. He says he is, but I am not so sure . . . ” and
he laughed.
I responded by telling him that Mullah Omar [the Taliban leader]
had once told his colleagues, “I hope I die before Massoud.” The
colleagues were surprised and asked, “Why do you say that?” Mullah
Omar answered, “If Massoud dies before me, he will destroy the
Polsalat Bridge, and I will never get to the other side!”
You see, in Islam, we believe that the day after you die you have to
cross the bridge of Polsalat; everybody has to walk across to leave the
earthly realm. Of course, my Mullah Omar story was really about all
the bridges that Massoud destroyed to stop the Taliban, and he had a
good laugh at it.
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

ALWAYS TEASING ME
Massoud had a strong sense of humor. He was always teasing me. I
remember that I had come from Kabul to see him, intending to go
straight back, but he said, “No, we are going to Takhar, and you’re
coming with us, so let’s go!” We spent the evening together in Takhar,
and the next day we went to climb a high mountain.
We could not go by car, and it was too dangerous to go by
helicopter because the enemy was very close, so we started the long
climb on foot, carrying heavy field glasses and other gear. After about
twenty minutes, Massoud said to me, “Come here, Pedram!” I
approached him, panting, and said, “I can’t carry these glasses any
further, so I’ll just put them down here.” He laughed and said, “Yes,
these field glasses were brought to Kabul by the mujahideen during
the war against the Soviets. They were not meant to be carried by
intellectuals.”
(Abdul Latif Pedram)

THE WINNER
In the Panjshir one day at the beginning of the Resistance, Massoud
was playing chess with a companion. Massoud won, and he was
pleased and said, “Did you see that? I won.” His opponent responded,
“Well, Amer Saheb, everyone wins against me.”
(Farid Amin)

DIPLOMATIC MOTIVATION
Massoud repeatedly asked the intellectuals, “What are you going to
do if the Taliban come? They can beat you, you know.” He was just
teasing them, but after a while they were all ready to leave the country
to work as diplomats.
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

TEASING THE TRANSLATOR

Humayun Tandar has a French wife and was living in Paris. When he
went to the Panjshir to meet Commander Massoud, there was a
French journalist who had come to interview Massoud, and Tandar
helped translate from French to Farsi. Massoud said to him, “You
speak very good French,” and somebody else commented that it was
because he had a “living dictionary.” He meant Tandar’s wife.
Massoud had a good laugh. After that, every time he saw Tandar he
asked him, “How is your living dictionary?”
(Mohammad Shuaib)

NO SMOKE
There was a lot of fighting in Kabul in 1993 and ’94, and we were at a
key position. Hekmatyar and Dostum, who were allied at the time,
and the Shia groups were shooting missiles, and there was smoke
everywhere—except one nice little area which was completely clear.
Massoud saw it, and he laughed and said, “How come they aren’t
shelling there?”
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

EXACT TRANSLATION
At the press conference I arranged for Massoud, there was a female
reporter at our table taking photos. She was from the BBC and asked
the first question: “What role do you give to women?” In Persian,
Massoud answered that women could become lawyers, teachers,
ministers, doctors, politicians—he mentioned around twenty
professions. Afterwards, I translated for her, “The Commander says
that except for journalists, they can become whatever they want.”
Everybody chuckled at that, and the Commander asked me why. I
translated into Persian what I had told her, and he began to laugh like
a child.
(Masood Khalili)

THE INVITATION
I wanted to invite him to Japan. I am not rich, so I said to Massoud,
“Just you and your wife, I invite. I can pay for that.” And Massoud
said, “No, I have many mujahideen, so if I go to Japan it will be
maybe sixty, and we will stay one month.” I said, “Sixty!!” and I
forgot about that conversation.
Maybe one or two years later, I offered again for him to come to
Japan. He said, “Last time you were surprised with sixty people. Now
I say twenty people, but we must stay for two months.” So I thought
of a very big house for them, but he could never come.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

“[In Paris] Massoud wore his customary safari jacket and pakul cap
and was addressed as ‘commandant’ by the awestruck hotel staff. . . .
“Word quickly rippled through the Afghan delegation not to turn
the television on, because there were ‘dangerous’—i.e. pornographic—
channels they might stumble onto. In some interpretations of Islam,
even thinking about a woman other than your wife qualifies as a sin,
and one bearded commander was observed gripping his armchair and
praying, eyes closed, as a young French woman walked by.
“While his commanders struggled and prayed, Massoud worked.”
 (Junger, “Massoud’s Last Conquest,” 107–9)

“When I discussed the possibility of a truce with [the Russians] in

1983, one officer said to me, ‘We want to withdraw, but how do we
do it?’ I said, ‘Go out the same way you came in.’”
(Ahmad Shah Massoud, quoted in Gall, Afghanistan, 142)

THE TOOTHACHE
On my first journey to the Panjshir I had a terrible toothache.
Massoud told me he would bring somebody to help, so they brought a
French doctor from Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without
Borders). I told him I had a lot of pain in my tooth, and he said he
would take it out, no problem. I said, “How many teeth have you
extracted?” and he said none. “Well, this is difficult,” I told him, “I
am your first victim; are you going to kill me?”
Then he called someone with a long beard like a pharaoh of Egypt.
He was slim with deep eyes and small Mongolian nose. I asked him,
“What is your profession?” and he said he was a barber. Well, my
grandmother told me once that she was treated by a barber and that
the barber was the one who took care of teeth, a semi-doctor. I asked
him how many times he had taken out teeth, and he said, “More than
ten times, a thousand times!” I said, “God bless you, come on.”
So I was sitting there like a kind of victim looking at him, and I
said, “Do you have anything to inject?” He said no, he didn’t believe
in that. He got a piece of equipment like pinchers, very old, black, and
greasy. When I saw this I said, “Oh,” but he said, “Don’t worry,” and
took out the handkerchief he used for his nose and cleaned them off. I
said, “Oh,” again and started praying: “Oh God, help me! Oh, God
and the holy warriors.”
He put those things in my mouth and said, “In the Name of God .
. . ” but I said, “Hold on, hold on . . . ” Then I asked the brother of
Hasham to come and sit on my shoulders, but he was so big that he
was like a tank and I was like a bicycle. I said, “You can’t sit on a
bicycle; let your son do it.” So the son sat on my shoulders.
Commander Massoud was sitting there, talking with some people and
looking over at me with a little smile.
Then the barber put those pinchers or whatever they were, on my
jaw and instructed me to say, “In the name of God.” I said, “I have
already recited the whole Koran!” So he pulled out my tooth, and I
felt the weight of the whole world on my shoulders and in my head,
but after two minutes there was no pain.
They brought water. It was very cold, and I washed my mouth.
Then I saw the young French doctor. He was setting up the camera to
shoot my photo, and his eyes were bigger than a deer’s. He managed
to say, “How are you?” and I replied, “Don’t ask how I am. How are
you?”
(Masood Khalili)
 20

AFGHAN SPIRIT
This is a nation which is the poorest in the world,
but the people are rich in their hearts.
—Masood Khalili

Many people before me have expressed the feeling

that there is something unique in the Afghans. To me,
they are a “garden of roses,” which illuminates every
day of my life.
 THE CRAZY MAN’S BOOK
Once, after a large Soviet offensive, we came upon a group of men in
the Panjshir Valley. We were all sitting under a tree—Massoud, his
bodyguards, and a few peasants. There was a young man they called
“the crazy man,” and he seemed to have something in his pocket.
I asked him, “What do you have in your pocket?”
He said, “Nothing.”
“What do you mean? There’s something in there!”
He told me, “It’s a book.”
“You don’t want to show it to me?”
“No.”
Finally he showed it to me. This crazy man, in a ruined valley, in
the presence of constant death, had a book of Hafiz in his pocket.
(Humayun Tandar)

HIDDEN IN THE HEART

For a thousand years people in Afghanistan had three sources of
spiritualism and religion. One was fanaticism, which was limited to
very religious-minded people who were a tiny minority studying
theology. Number two was a moderate faith, those who were neither
very fanatic nor very liberal. And number three was a foundation on
which moderate religion and faith was built: the spiritualism which is
called Sufism. This is the tradition of a kind of saintly people, a
limited number, who were the best poets, philosophers, and writers,
the most pious people. They lived in non-material conditions, and they
were great people.
In this philosophy of Sufism, you worship God, not just through
the books, but through your heart. When you worship God through
your heart, then you always find Him. God is nowhere else, according
to them. When you are in search of yourself, you find God, and when
you are in search of God, you find yourself.
Massoud was a man who was in search of himself and in search of
God. Every human being should be like that; our heart is something
we should always look at and go into, because we can find the soul.
When you are in search of that, I believe you find Him, whatever you
call Him—God, Allah, Bhagavan, Ram.
There is an important story about this that took place at the
beginning of creation: There was a situation between God and Satan,
and God told Satan, “You cannot convince my followers not to
worship me; they will always find me.” And Satan said, “God, I will
hide you somewhere that your worshippers will not find you. Where?
In the heart of man, because they never go to their hearts to worship.
They go to the books and they get deceived. As long as few people go
into themselves and search their hearts and souls, that is the best place
to hide you.”
And that is the third branch of Afghan spirituality, based on this
foundation of worship in the heart. When the communists invaded
Afghanistan, we thought we would lose all these traditions: fanatic,
moderate, and Sufi. So we were told.
(Masood Khalili)

I DON’T WANT TO MENTION NAMES

In the war with Russia, lots of women in Kabul and other cities had
contact with the mujahideen, worked for them. I used to be the
contact between Massoud and a woman in Kabul. Massoud gave me
instructions, and I would pass them to the woman, who would pass
them on to her group. These women did a lot of operations when the
Russians were there. They sacrificed and died, and sometimes they
would be arrested by the Russians. Aref’s wife from Logar, my wife,
and Qanooni’s wife were some of the women who were in the
Resistance, but I do not want to mention their full names.
There was a woman from Bazarak—I don’t remember her real
name, but people called her Shamnisah—who had five or six children,
and she lost all of them in the war. She never left her house, and she
would always cook for Massoud and the mujahideen. Massoud
always helped that woman through me, because she lost everything
and he never forgot that.
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

THE WOMEN ALWAYS RESIST

During the course of history, Afghan women have always resisted
foreign forces, even taking arms to fight them, including the Soviets
and the Taliban. During the years of the jihad against the former
Soviet Union, in the territory that Massoud controlled, women
supported the men in every way they could—cooking, gathering
important logistical information, etc. The ones who were educated
worked in the schools and provided medicine.
(Commander Bismillah Khan)
 THE PENCIL
One day I was in the Salang Pass with Commander Massoud and his
forces in an operation to stop a convoy of Russians. He told me to go
into the mountain, far from the ambush, and that he would follow. I
went, and there was a school in something like a cave in the
mountains where boys and girls went for their studies. Massoud
believed in always keeping the schools open, even with the war going
on, in the mountains or wherever, because he thought the schools
were so important that without them we could not go on.
I saw fifteen girls and boys with beautiful eyes. I think it was the
first or second grade, a class of tiny cute girls and boys. It was around
the end of August, and they had thin clothes and some were barefoot,
and they were cold. I entered the cave and I asked the teacher to let
me teach them. Then I asked them, “Who can write the word
freedom?” It’s a very easy word to write in Persian. One of them
began to write, and I said to the class, “Why don’t you all write it?” A
girl looked at me and said, “We can all write, but we have only one
pencil in the class and we share it.”
(Masood Khalili)

“We were sitting on the grass . . . when Masud came over to join us.
He started talking to the boys, teasing one of them about the white
cloth with garishly embroidered flowers he was holding.
“‘Do you want to give that to me as a present?’
“After some hesitation, the little boy said, ‘Yes,’ and held it out to
Masud.
“‘No, no, it was only a joke. Your mother might have something
to say about that.’
 “But the little boy, who could not have been more than seven,
insisted and Masud had to accept it.
“‘It’s beautiful, thank you very much. Here, come and sit beside
me, I want to talk to you.’ The boy did as he was told without the
slightest sign of shyness or embarrassment and, after asking him a lot
of questions about himself, Masud persuaded him to recite several
verses from the Koran and then something in Farsi. He did it
beautifully, as far as I could tell, without a pause or hesitation, and
when he had finished Masud applauded. I asked Khalili, ‘Who was
that poem by, Khushal Khan Khattak?’ Khattak was a seventeenth-
century Pushtun poet.
“‘No, much older. It was by Hafez, a Persian poet of the fourteen
century’.”
(Gall, Afghanistan, 164)

THE PAPAYAN
I remember an old man who walked for twenty miles to get to
Massoud. He asked Massoud to give him a gun to fight with. Now,
there are guns called papayans which shoot forty or fifty meters, but
the Kalashnikov shoots four hundred meters. In Afghanistan, the
people like to fight from a close range because it shows they are not
afraid of the enemy, so Massoud’s men played a little game with him:
“Do you want to fight from a distance or up close?” Of course, the
man said proudly, “I’d like to fight at close range.”
So this old man came twenty miles on foot, exchanged a few
words, turned around one hundred and eighty degrees and went back,
but he was happy because it let him show he was not afraid. He is still
alive but lost his eyes in a land mine explosion. Not everyone would
think to turn a small event into something clever and positive in the
middle of a war.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

I KNOW MY PEOPLE
If a leader is honest with the Afghans, behaves honestly, the Afghans
are very good people. The rumors that Afghans fight against each
other, that they are against the rules? I know my culture, I know my
people. They are really good people, if someone is honest with them.
Massoud did not give things to the people, he was just honest with
them, and he proved to the people that he was serving them.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

LAND OF THE PEASANT KINGS

Some of the best human beings I met have been Afghan peasants in
the little villages in the Hindu Kush, people who have nothing and
give you everything they have. They invite you into their home where
there is only one room. These are people who have nothing in material
terms but have a huge amount of self-respect, pride, and confidence in
their own dignity as human beings.
Even if you don’t speak Dari, the Afghan dignity and openness still
come across. It goes beyond boundaries of culture and language which
I think any human being can sense. They were beggars when it comes
to material things, but kings in pride, self-respect, and dignity.
(Anthony Davis)
 THE FUNNY UNCLE
Once when the Soviet troops entered Jangalak, they destroyed the
whole village, including the house of Massoud’s uncle, Amir
Mohammed, who was a teacher and was a very funny guy. Massoud
saw the house and asked, “Uncle, what about your house?” Amir
answered, “My son, everything is alright. I am just trying to paint it!”
(Colonel Ahmad Muslem Hayat)

THE MUSLIM
Once a boy named Fahrid came to the house and told me that my
father owed him some money for a book. I had him come upstairs,
and my father paid him and gave him extra money for making him
wait. Then we went upstairs to my uncle who is a doctor, and they
asked him, “Son, are you a Muslim?” and he said yes. “How are you
a Muslim? Prove yourself.” And he said, “I have a prayer,” and he
said, “Laa ilaha illallah, Mohammader-rasolallah” (There is no God
but God, and Mohammed is His Prophet).
“Son, I have a thousand dollars in my pocket, and I will give it to
you if you say that you are not a Muslim. Just say it, and I will give
you this money.” He was quiet. He was a beggar in the street, and
who wouldn’t want a thousand dollars? Then he said, “Sir, if you give
me a million dollars, if you give me the entire city, I will not say that.
What would be left for me? A Muslim has God above him; he has
faith in God.”
From a ten-year-old kid! Even my uncle had teary eyes.
(Madina Zikria)
 A FARMER OR A PEASANT
I used to watch Massoud closely, wondering if the man was genuine. I
would be talking with him, and he would say, “Excuse me, I have to
go and pray.” And he would pray with whoever was around, whether
a farmer or a peasant boy didn’t matter, they were all equal.
It may go back to the fact that Afghanistan has never been
colonized. When I am in Pakistan, it’s totally different. Power is the
rapport, respect is the rapport. The fact that you are Western
automatically associates you with colonization. When you are in
Afghanistan, you are there as an equal.
(Edward Girardet)

A TOTALLY DIFFERENT CULTURE

Massoud really loved his culture. You know that Afghanistan is rich
in culture, and I hope that one day you and I will sit together and talk
about culture and the poets—a totally different world from this one; a
totally different culture from Western culture. And Massoud wanted
to preserve it.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

ANOTHER VISION OF THE WORLD

A famous Kabuli who recently died was a former merchant who had
been engaged in international commerce between Central Asia,
Afghanistan, and Kashmir. This trade had been passed down to him
from his father, but one day he had enough and decided to follow
another life.
He asked himself, “What can I do to lead the life I wish for?” and
he took some boards, put up a little shop at an intersection in Kabul,
and became a bookbinder. In actuality, he did this to be able to offer
tea, bread, and conversation to those who came to see him. It was a
very small place, probably four square meters, with an overhang in
front of the shop, but the young poets who hoped to follow his vision
of the world came to see him.
(Humayun Tandar)

TIMELESS
Afghanistan became sort of a spiritual thing for me, although I say
this very guardedly. It became necessary for me to go to Afghanistan
at least once a year if not more, and one of my greatest
disappointments was when we could no longer walk in. We had to
drive or fly, and it was never the same again.
When you walked you had the time to do a lot of thinking because
there was no other distraction. The food was basic—you just ate in
order to get energy—and you would see the most spectacular views. I
think that in this terrain you could find yourself. Your existence
would be down to very basic things. Afghanistan is a timeless place,
and in it you could somehow see the world more clearly.
(Edward Girardet)

WE ATE THE WHOLE THING

We went to Nahrin, and the people there have a custom that when
there is a guest in a house, it means that all the village is invited too.
For example, if you come to my house because I invite you, and I am
preparing a dinner for ten or eleven at night, from six o’clock on
people bring food and share it with you.
We did not know the customs there. You are supposed to take
only one bite and pass the food. There were fifty of us, and when the
people brought food, we ate the whole thing. We thought, if you don’t
eat their food you are insulting them, so we did not pass it around. At
twelve o’clock, the host brought the dinner, rice and meat, and said,
“This is the dinner I was inviting you to,” and then he told us that we
should have only eaten one bite because people in the village had
come to share with us.
Those people cooked their food with mustard seed oil, and it is so
strong that if you are not accustomed to it, it gives you diarrhea. We
all got sick, all fifty people. So the next day when people brought food
Massoud said, “No mustard oil.” The twenty-five days we were there
we were sick.
“Would you like to come to my house?”
“Yes, but no mustard oil, no teher!”
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

SURNAMES
In Afghanistan it is traditional that there are no surnames. We say
“so-and-so, son of so-and-so.” Perhaps this is how it was in France
during the Middle Ages, yet when you come to Kabul, in an educated
milieu or where there are universities and people who have traveled,
you find surnames.
 Afghan surnames do not change; they are from either one’s tribe or
one’s region. For example, someone from Kabul becomes “Kabuli.”
Sometimes a name is a personal choice, as when people choose a word
from literature that they find pretty.
During the war, during the government of President Daoud [1973–
75], the militant nationalists all did clandestine work. To avoid
identification and arrest they adopted surnames. Massoud’s name
comes from this period. One meaning of Massoud is “lucky.”
(Mehraboudin Masstan)

THE AMERICANS FOUND OUT

In the time of the Taliban, slowly and gradually, people, especially the
United States, entered the game and found that the Afghans were
determined. By the time they gave us the Stingers—it was 1986—they
found that we had lost more than half a million people. And then they
said, “Whether we give them weapons or not, they fight!”
(Masood Khalili)

FOREGONE CONCLUSION
It was very difficult in the ’80s, impossible to think that this little tiny
place, Afghanistan, and this small group of people, the Resistance
within Afghanistan, would have any chance of defeating the Soviet
Union. Yet people under Massoud’s leadership used to talk about
“when the northerners leave,” and “when the Russians leave,” as if it
were a foregone conclusion that they would leave.
(Richard Mackenzie)
“Jean-Philippe [Tabard, a French doctor] . . . declared that many
Afghans suffered from nervous headaches, brought on by the
bombing. The children in particular were prone to symptoms of
trauma and he described treating one child, wounded in the arm by
bomb splinters, who had not been able to utter a sound. But, he said,
the surprising thing was that, despite these psychological effects, the
morale of the people, even the refugees, remained extremely high.
‘They are poor people, but they are for the mujahideen,’ he insisted.”
(Gall, Behind Russian Lines, 121)

WAR OF THE WORDS

Let me tell you about a special kind of gathering Massoud’s people
had, not once but many times. Whenever we were all very sad or very
happy, whenever we were successful or defeated, late at night there
would be three or four people, and we would get involved in poetry, a
thing we call mushaaera. This is a tradition in Persian-speaking
countries like Iran, but mostly in Afghanistan, in which we kind of
compete to see who knows more poetry.
How did we do it? Two get on one side and two on another, in
rival teams. One team reads a verse of poetry, and the other team
takes the last letter of the verse and tries to find a new poetry verse
that begins with the same letter. Suppose you have a verse in English,
“Oh God, I love you, come and help me.” Here the last letter of the
verse is “e,” so the other team takes the “e” and starts a verse with
that. So it would run until one of the teams says it doesn’t have a verse
that starts with the right letter. Then it is defeated.
This has been done in Afghanistan for centuries, by boys in school,
girls in school. In my house, we were very traditional, and my father
tried to test his sons and daughters by this. During the war, we
sometimes took refuge in this verse fighting. You can fight not just
with guns but also with verses, and a country that fights with verses
should be given an award by the military people. This is why Afghan
people are all warriors; we fight even with verses.
So we used to do this, and the Commander did not know any
verses by heart. He knew the meaning and loved to hear them. He
relaxed himself with this verse fighting, so in those circumstances he
would ask us to please do it. And it was totally a different fight—not
with bullets, not with ballots, not with bad words, but with the most
beautiful, the most sensitive element in mankind’s world: verses. I was
always the winner, but, I don’t know. Maybe they were more winners
than me because they so enjoyed themselves. You never enjoy war by
any means, but you enjoyed this one, this war of the beautiful, lovely,
romantic words, the nicest in the world. Maybe in those times, we
were indeed taking refuge in something good.
One night I remember we all went to a big meeting in the Panjshir.
It was freezing, and the Taliban was in Kabul. Haji Qadir was there—
he was alive then—and Dr. Rahman, Dr. Abdullah, and Dr. Mahdi
were there. Dr. Mujaddedi, who was the head of the Panjshir Valley,
and Bismillah Khan were there. All these people, and the Commander
came, and about 9 p.m. we started to talk about difficult stuff, like
world politics, the Taliban, Osama, how to organize, how to reach the
North, how to do a united front, how to get money.
All of a sudden we all agreed that we should stop talking about
politics and start the word fighting. The Commander could not learn
poetry by heart, so he became the referee, checking that people did not
repeat verses. And he was a good judge because he was strong, and in
any country if the judge is strong, justice is done. He was very keen
that no friend should cheat another while they were fighting with
these beautiful verses.
Then Dr. Abdullah, who was a good reader and understood the
great poet Hafiz, opened the Hafiz book and started to read. Then Dr.
Mehta, who was also very good, and two or three others. So we
enjoyed our-selves, and that night passed. Many nights and days
passed, but I remember vividly and clearly that night, because we
passed it with poetry.
(Masood Khalili)

“Years ago . . . I was in Afghanistan with a mujahedin unit, the

mujahedin being the fighters against the Soviet occupation. During
long treks across the desert, the small group of mujahedin fighters I
was with would stop and pray five times a day. They would get on
their knees and they would pray, and they would thank God for
everything that they had. I might add that they had little. We did not
even have a good clean glass of water, much less the provisions of
food that could keep people healthy. Yet these people were grateful
for everything.
“It caused me reason to pause and think that here in the United
States we have so much and how rarely people think about how
grateful they should be. . . . But here were these people, under attack
by the Soviets, on their knees praying. . . .
“What impressed me is that those who were praying felt perfectly
comfortable. They were fulfilling their obligations to God but did not
feel threatened by the others who were not praying and who were not
compelled to participate. That was the essence of the Afghans—
grateful to God, devoted to God, but not fanatics who were trying to
suppress other people into some sort of religious dictatorship.”
(Excerpt from a speech by Honorable Dana Rohrabacher,
“Challenge Facing America,” delivered before the U.S. Congress,
September 17, 2001,
http://s3.amazonaws.com/911timeline/2001/rohrabacher091701.html)

“‘Even the poorest of Afghans had a sense of pride, great hospitality,

so to me they were never poor.’ That generosity of spirit, combined
with Afghans’ love of music, dancing, poetry and song, he added, is
the reason ‘why so many foreign workers remember Afghanistan with
an extraordinary sense of romanticism.’”
(Edward Girardet quoted in D. L. Parsell, “Afghanistan Reporter
Looks Back on Two Decades of Change,” National Geographic
News, November 19, 2001,
www.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/11/1119_afghanreporter_2.
html)

WHY SHOULD WE HELP?

Part of my job was to bring the word to the media, to conferences,
and the State Department. I am talking now about twenty-six years
ago, and they were thinking, “What is the use of giving the Afghans
weapons?” Many good reasons they had, scientific reasons.
Our message was: Despite your pessimism, give us weapons and
money to fight. Don’t isolate us; don’t abandon us. They said, “This
country is not going to see freedom again, so why should we help?”
And I said, “Don’t let Afghans die empty-handed, because they are
fighting—not because of you, not for NATO, for the United States,
for Europe, or for the Islamic world—they are fighting whether you
like it or not. Love of freedom, love of land, love of their religion
combined make these people fight and give their lives, and it’s not
easy to give your life.”
I had to get the message to the world that we would fight, whether
or not it gave us food, weapons, money, because we were determined
to see freedom and our faith or die!
(Masood Khalili)

“The very first Afghans I met said they would rather fight to the last
man than allow the Russians to control their country. This kind of
claim had a ring of ancient bravado about it, and one took it with a
pinch of twentieth-century salt. But after I had met the people inside
the country who were really doing the fighting I would need an
entirely new vocabulary to describe them: it was not bravado at all,
and no price was too high for its fulfilment. A wizened old villager
once put it to me simply: to lose one’s home, he said, was nothing; to
lose one’s health was something; but to lose one’s freedom—ah, that
was quite a different matter: the Russians would never get away with
that.”
(Elliot, An Unexpected Light, 163)

WHY WE WON
A long time ago, I saw a battlefield, and that night about thirty people
were killed and the village was burned. I wrote in my diary that the
next day I saw people from other villages coming to help the
wounded, and they said, “Go, boys, and fight for freedom.”
I thought: Oh, freedom is not free; you have to fight for it; it has a
cost, and it is valuable. I have tasted both, losing freedom and
regaining it, and I experienced the civil freedom that people in
Afghanistan lost with the Taliban. Then you don’t have freedom; you
have barbaric things. But it was the war of the people indeed, and that
is why we won.
(Masood Khalili)

OLD RIFLES AND NO BACKING

The Soviet Union had invaded other countries before—Hungary,
Czechoslovakia. They may have had a little resistance at the
beginning, then almost immediately the country would be defeated.
But not the Afghans.
The Afghans started with old rifles and with no backing. Anybody
that has met them knows that they didn’t need the Americans to get
them going. The Afghans started their own Resistance and fought
against the Soviets. Under the leadership of Massoud they set an
example that you didn’t have to lie down and die, that you could fight
back.
(Richard Mackenzie)

TRANSFORMED
Somebody asked Massoud if he had changed after so many years of
struggle. I remember he answered:
“Have twenty years of war changed me? It is my people that they
have transformed, but it has been positive change. Those years have
raised people above themselves. They have allowed them, through
suffering and resistance, to transcend themselves. I loved my people
before. Now I admire them, and my dearest dream is to contribute to
the reconstruction of a free Afghanistan for them and with them.”
(Masood Khalili)

“Despite the years-long fighting in Afghanistan, ethnic differences,

and all the difficulties that plague Afghanistan, I do not think that
there is even a single Afghan who would favour the disintegration or
fragmentation of the country along ethnic lines. We are all unanimous
that there should be one, unified Afghanistan.”
(Ahmad Shah Masood quoted in Piotr Balcerowicz, “Taliban
Lacks Support from the Afghan People,” Omaid Weekly, no. 496,
October 22, 2001)
 21

PERFUME OF THE ROSE

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
what is essential is invisible to the eye.
—Antoine Saint-Exupéry
During the resistance against the Taliban, I used to spend half of the
time with Massoud in Afghanistan and half traveling to Europe and
the United States to warn the world of what the Taliban was. On one
of those trips I called him from a satellite phone, and he asked me
where I had been, because it was quite a few days since I had talked to
him. I told him that I had been to Paris, New York, and Geneva, now
I was in London, and then I would come to Afghanistan.
He said, “I’ve also been traveling.” He mentioned places that I
knew in Afghanistan, places in the most mountainous areas of the
country where it was hard to get and very difficult to live. He had
gone to mobilize the people and organize the Resistance. He was
aware that I knew how difficult it is to travel to those areas, and he
recited a couplet from a famous Persian poet, Hafiz, “Someone has
the wine, and someone has the blood from the heart, and that is how
things were distributed on the First Day.”
As Muslims we believe that our destiny was decided in the days
before the creation of mankind. The poem means that when
distribution was made in the beginning, somebody was given wine, the
circle of happiness, and somebody else was given the blood of the
heart, the other extreme of sadness and sorrow. Massoud was saying
that I travel in these areas and he travels in those, because that is the
way things are distributed today as well. And then he laughed.
I told him the next part of the poem, which I happened to know:

There is the rose and also the perfume of the rose.

The rose stays where it is, but the perfume walks around
The bazaar, the market, the shop, everywhere.

It was a surprise to him because he didn’t know that part, and we

laughed together.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)
 SO HARD TO EXPLAIN
In so many ways Massoud was different. His eyes were different. If
you looked deeply into his eyes you could find something there,
something absolutely different. Even his nose, forehead, and chin were
different. You know, after the day he died, people who had met him
for the first time, they cried more than we did, after just one meeting.
We cannot know how deep was his link with God, but he was not
a normal person; everything was different. It is so hard to explain. The
way he sat was different, his eyes were different, his body was
different, his personality was different, his hospitality was different.
Even his virtue was different from other people and other leaders. By
Massoud loving God, everything was different.
Please write a very good book.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

“I found it impossible not to listen to Massoud when he spoke, even

though I didn’t understand a word. I watched everything he did,
because I had the sense that somehow—in the way he poured his tea,
in the way his hands carved the air as he talked—there was some
secret to be learned.”
(Sebastian Junger, “Requiem for a Warrior,” National Geographic
Adventure 3, no. 6: 172)
 THE CUP OF THE NEW MOON
Massoud had conviction and perseverance in the struggle, but he had
the deep desire to be above that, like the cup of the new moon that
shone and that fascinated centuries of poets and mystics. This moon
comes from the deepest Afghan history to the symbol of Islam—one of
the historical sites of Afghanistan is called Oijonome, lady moon—a
representation of the Buddha’s face in a moon shape.
Massoud expressed this depth without trying. He was the
embodiment of this heritage, the heir to a history, to a vision, to this
beauty that according to us, right or wrong, only poetry has
expressed. The night sky made him catch his breath. I think that he
wanted to be able to breathe, to see the sky.
(Humayun Tandar)

THE PHILOSOPHER
I remember a British lady who came to see Massoud; I saw her in the
lobby of his hotel in Paris. After she talked to him, I found her again
and she said to me, “It is so amazing to find a military man who has
been at war for twenty-five years and is so calm and peaceful. I never
thought that Massoud would have such a personality that if you met
him he would have an influence on you. You would never think he is
a military person; you would think he is more like a philosopher.”
When I went to see Massoud that day, I told him what that British
lady said and I asked him, “How can you be so peaceful?” He said,
“Well, I have my goals. That is the most important thing in life. Once
you know what your goals are, then the rest is easy. If you struggle to
get to them, whether you get there or you don’t, it is still okay. My
goal is the liberation of my nation, and I will do my utmost to reach
it. If I don’t, that’s my destiny, so why should I be afraid of it? Since I
have a clear goal, I don’t have to change my way of thinking or my
path every day. That’s why I am so peaceful. I don’t have any worries
at all.”
(Farid Zikria)

IN VICTORY OR DEFEAT
The Russians invaded, killed people, children, women, dropped
bombs, and a lot of mujahideen commanders were killed. Massoud
had to be upset about what was happening, but when you were
talking to him you could see the victory on his forehead; he was
always smiling, always open. Spiritually, you would think he was
winning. Without him saying anything, you would feel when you saw
him smile while all those things were happening that we were
winning. On the other hand, when he was successful he did not get
excited or chant that yes we did it. He was calm and always looked
strong—in a battle in which he lost everything or on a day when he
was successful.
(Mohammad Shuaib)

GOOD MORNING, PEDRAM

I was cultural attaché in Tajikistan, and I had joined Massoud in
Takhar during the war against the Taliban. It was a very sad day. The
Taliban had launched an attack in the center of the province, very
close to Massoud’s main headquarters. All the radio networks said
Massoud was finished, and I sometimes thought it was true!
As I walked up to him that day, he said, “Good morning, Pedram.
How are you?” with a bright smile.
I said, “What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”
“But the Taliban has reached Takhar!”
And he replied, “Nothing to worry about. The Red Army came
here over a hundred times, and yet they were beaten. They reached
Takhar, they attacked, we pushed them out, and the Resistance is still
alive.”
(Abdul Latif Pedram)

A LIGHT
MARYAM MASSOUD: Our father was engaged to our mother, but they
were not married yet. My father dreamt that he was with his fiancée,
and there was a light. The light came directly from the sky and onto
her forehead. When Massoud became a young man, when he started
the Resistance and was a leader, our father told us, “Now I see. This
light, the light that came from the sky in my dream and fell on your
mother’s forehead, that was Massoud.”

DIANA MOMAND: I remember a similar story about the Prophet

Mohammad. A Christian called Nastora or Bahira loved
Mohammad’s father, Abdullah. She went to talk with him and said,
“Please, marry me.” He said, “I can’t marry you because I am already
engaged to be married to another woman.” That woman was Amina
[the mother of Mohammad], and he married her. Sometime later,
Abdullah went to talk with the Christian and said, “I can marry you
now.” But she said, “It’s too late. I saw a light in you, but now you
don’t have it anymore.”

BODY AND SOUL

Massoud was a believer, very clear in his thoughts. When he used to
read the Koran, I noticed that he was totally absorbed in it, even
though he was in the same room with many other people. Others were
reciting the Koran, but he was really down into it. Also he did the
prayers five times a day.
I used to watch him. He had his whole body and soul into it; you
would have thought that this man prayed all the time, and that there
was nothing more important. That’s how I learned that he was a true
believer. And the same applied to his work. When he was working, he
was so deeply involved and engaged it would seem that it was his
whole world.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

HE HAD THIS FEELING

When Massoud was graduating from Herat high school in 1972, he
was nominated for a course in Paris for further education in
agriculture. He refused to go. He told our father, “I don’t want to go
to Paris. I am going to go to the military university.” I was surprised,
and Father was surprised and said, “I don’t want you to go to a
military academy.” Massoud was insistent. At that time it was very
difficult to enter the military university. My father knew the general
who was responsible for this university, and Massoud wanted him to
ask this gentleman to do something so he could be admitted.
I asked him, “Why do you want to become an officer?” Do you
know what he said? He said, “I know that the Russians will come to
Afghanistan. I have this feeling that Afghanistan will not stay like
this.” And then he told me, “You know I don’t want to become a
military officer. You know I am interested in art and architecture. But
I just have the feeling that Afghanistan will come under the
occupation of Russia.”
I tell you that in his life twice he predicted things, and the two
things happened: that one, and the second one when he came to Paris.
A journalist asked him what was his message to Mr. Bush. He said,
“My message is that one day something will happen to the world if
you don’t help Afghanistan.” Since then, I felt that this man—I knew
he was not exaggerating and he was not a man to play the big hero—
he had something special.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

WHAT HAPPENED THAT DAY

In 1981, the Russians surrounded the whole Panjshir Valley, and there
was no way we could go anywhere; they had us completely closed
down. Two hundred and fifty prisoners of war were in there, and
Massoud was there, too. It was morning, and there was no hope. I
saw no way we were going to get out alive, and my friends and I were
thinking that we would all shoot each other because we didn’t want to
be captured by the Russians.
That morning Massoud prayed, and then he told us he would be
back. The local commander, Golzar, said, “I am going with
Massoud,” but Massoud said he would go by himself. Golzar told
him, “No, this is my responsibility. You are in my village, and
wherever you go, I go with you. If you don’t want me to go, you have
to kill me.” Massoud didn’t say anything, so they went together up
the mountain to talk with the Russians. I saw this with my own eyes.
Fifteen minutes later we heard shooting. Then Massoud came back
and said, “They are breaking. Let’s see if we can get out of here,” and
we began to leave. We took the two hundred and fifty prisoners with
us, and when we got to the Russian lines we saw bodies, many bodies,
of Russians. When we passed the area we asked Massoud about it, but
he wouldn’t tell us what had happened. Later, I must have asked
Golzar a hundred times. Every time I saw him I asked him what
happened that day, but he couldn’t answer; he would just cry. I asked
him, “Did you shoot anybody?” And he said no. I asked what
happened and how Massoud fought, but he could not answer. The
next year, Commander Golzar was killed.
It is still a mystery to me. Massoud went to fight, but how? And
how did he kill the hundred or two hundred Russians that I saw? He
and that commander were alone, yet I saw the Russian bodies. He
saved basically four or five hundred people’s lives. I believe with all
my heart that it was a miracle.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

PIR SEYALKOT AND THE HINDU MOTHER

Massoud asked me, “What is going on in India?” I thought he wanted
to talk about politics, but he said, “No, I just want you to tell me
where you go in India when you have time to roam around there.”
 I said, “Well, I am a person of faith, so I go to churches, mosques,
shrines, temples.” He said, “You go to temples?” “Yes, I go to
temples and I watch how people pray—men, women, youth, kids,
some poor, some rich. I see that they come with flowers and they put
them at the feet of their gods and they are in tears. And I see the
mothers bringing their children, and some bring food and sweets, and
it looks so beautiful. I see faithful people who sit there and meditate,
pray to their gods and murmur in their hearts and their souls. It
touches my heart and gives me comfort and peace.”
Then, I told Massoud about the story that my friend Guldip Nayar
had told me. Guldip and his wife visited us in our home in New Delhi.
During a conversation, I commented that Islam does not have only
one dimension, but has many, in the spiritual sense, and that it’s
important that you go through them to find peace and tranquility. In
response, Guldip told me a story about his childhood in Lahore
[Pakistan].
When he was little, his mother used to take him to a shrine near
their home called Pir Seyalkot. Pir means spiritual man. The shrine
belonged to such a man, and his mother took him there for
everything. When Guldip had a fever that shrine was his doctor; when
his mother had an economic problem she rushed to the shrine for
help; when she had some problem with her husband she would go
there and pray, and when she was happy she would take sweets there
for the poor. So his mother, who was Hindu, went to this shrine, and
she told Guldip that it gave her comfort.
Guldip grew up and became a journalist in India in the time of
Indira Gandhi. When he was around twenty-two years old, he was
imprisoned for certain reasons with ten or fifteen other writers and
journalists. He told us that one night in jail he dreamt that a man
came down from the clouds and sat on a chair. He had a beautiful
green gown, a long beard, and a radiant, happy face. He said, “I am
Pir Seyalkot. On Friday you will be released from prison. Don’t
worry, and your mother will be happy.” Guldip woke up and thought,
God, today is Wednesday. Friday is just the day after tomorrow; how
can I be released so soon?
On Friday morning, there was a knock at the door of the prison
and some people came in and asked, “Which one is Guldip Nayar?”
He said, “I am,” and they told him, “Get out of here right now!”
They asked him to sign something, and the head of the prison said,
“You are released.”
Guldip went to his home, and when he opened the door his mother
was sitting there. The minute she saw him she said, “Oh Guldip, you
are a little bit late. I thought that you would get out early in the
morning, so I’ve been waiting here for three hours.”
He started to tell her, “Mother, I had this dream . . . ,” but she
said, “Yes, I know that. I asked him to help you.” Then she told him,
“Guldip, take my chador [a long veil that is worn by women in India
and also in Afghanistan] and if you can, go to Pakistan to that area of
Lahore they call Seyalkot. When you get there, hurry to the shrine of
Pir Seyalkot, lay down my chador, and tell Pir Seyalkot that a Hindu
who loves him thanks him a lot.”
Massoud was in tears, like a baby. His beard and his eyes were full
of tears and his cheeks were all wet. He said, “Oh Khalili, please write
it down. This is so beautiful. If anyone else had told me this story I
would not have believed it. Look at this spiritual world. No signs can
prove such things, but they are proved because they happen.”
(Masood Khalili)

WHAT A PASHTUN IS TELLING YOU

I didn’t see Massoud as a regular person. He had another dimension
within, which differentiated him from other people. Spiritually
speaking, he was very pure. I haven’t seen anyone else like him. People
kept saying that he was from a minority in Afghanistan and that only
those minority people think this way about him, but I am not from the
Panjshir Valley and I am not from his tribal or his ethnic group. I am
a Pashtun, and this is what I am telling you.
(Farid Zikria)

THE CONNECTION
When a person becomes “whole,” that person knows all the inner
senses, the inner self. And that person goes beyond the personal self
and is able to look at humanity and to capitalize on the positive
elements of individuals and care about them; that is the second level.
First is within, the second is without. The third is to bring those things
together, which becomes a transcendental thing.
Massoud was very developed. He could look in the eyes of a
person and know exactly what was inside that person’s heart. I mean,
he could look at you and know that you were going to open your
mouth and say, “If you don’t give me something in return, I won’t do
it.” He grasped it immediately, and could then tell you, “This is why
you are here. Here is what you want; take care and go.”
People began to pay him respect because they said, “This man—
before you open your mouth he knows exactly what you want and
gives you advice about it!” Individuals with remarkable ability like
that are able to connect with people by osmosis.
(Haron Amin)
 THE COBBLER
There was an old man who in his youth and vigor was a fighter in
Central Asia during the period which the Soviets called the Basmachis.
Under pressure from the Soviet military he became a refugee in
Afghanistan, where he undertook the trade of moochi: cobbler. We
can well imagine what kind of cobbler he was: He had a little wooden
shop with probably three or four hammers, a few nails, and a little
bowl filled with water where he tempered the leather pieces that he
had found to sew into shoes. He could have been something else, this
gentleman; this is something you find among certain mystical
personalities, Sufis.
When the war erupted, he once again went into warrior mode
against those who had uprooted him and made him flee his country.
His age did not permit him to lead the fighting in this war, so instead
he chose to transmit a spiritual force to others. This is what he came
to Massoud to do, and I think that touched Massoud.
(Humayun Tandar)

MERCIFUL WARRIORS
Massoud deepened his faith over time, so that he became a Muslim
mystic who meditated on Islamic mysticism in the evenings while he
fought his wars by day. This leads me to compare him to the only
other character like that in modern Islamic history: the Algerian leader
Abdul Qadir, who in the 1830s, ’40s, and early ’50s fought against
the French and forced them to respect his high spiritual and
humanitarian dignity. Abdul Qadir too would retire in the evenings to
meditate and to comment upon the classics of Sufism, even though by
day he fought.
What makes these two so comparable is that the spiritual course
both brought to their actions was total renunciation of hatred. That is,
they perceived their participation in war as something absolutely but
unfortunately necessary to defend the independence of their nations,
of their communities, but they drilled themselves to renounce hatred,
revenge, and bitterness as motives for fighting. This showed in their
extraordinary clemency for prisoners. It meant that they always
showed mercy whenever they could, and this was something both
their Russian and French enemies detected and came to respect so
much.
(Professor Michael Barry)

IN MY SOUL
Massoud often seemed to go almost into a trance. He would close his
eyes and start praying, and it was like he would go to sleep for two
minutes, into a trance or meditation. He would close his eyes and his
lips would move very gently, as if he were whispering to a baby. This
was not somebody just saying prayers, it was a deep communication
with God. I know that in my soul.
(Richard Mackenzie)

SARTRE SHOULD RECONSIDER

A sense of knowing: Massoud once told somebody, “If you go into
this battle you will get killed.” The following day, the man went, and
he died in the battle. When people are aware of themselves, aware of
their surroundings, and connected on a transcendental level, they just
“know.” Like when birds fly before earthquakes; they are much better
at that than human beings. Take the power of a human being and add
the capabilities of birds and animals and an element of spirituality,
and you have someone who connects on the sixth and seventh level.
When Massoud sat in the room he totally filled it. The air was very
heavy. He was able to look at things, to look at you, and you would
melt like ice cream. Enemies came to kill him, then came to him and
said, “I’ve been sent to kill you. Here is my gun.” A sense of energy
that he had—what can I say? These are values that we have lost in the
West.
Sartre said that Che Guevara was the perfect man, but I once
wrote if Sartre were alive he would reconsider. I read about Che and
Mao Tse Tung. They were about winning over the enemy and
implementing strategy. Massoud was more than that; he was the
perfect man. Perfection should be attributed only to God, but in a
human sense, he was such a person that he was able to connect to the
deeper psychic level of individuals.
(Haron Amin)

“He discovered a spiritual guide in the writings of the 12th-century

philosopher and mystic al-Ghazâlî. Later Massoud would carry one of
al-Ghazâlî’s books with him wherever he went, into battle, up into the
mountains, under the rain of enemy rocket-fire, down into the thickets
of Kabul politics. Al-Ghazâlî’s Alchemy of Joy—Kîmiyâ-yi Sa’âdat—
taught Massoud what Massoud was really spiritually looking for. . . .
One sentence in al-Ghazâlî’s book seems to have struck him as
particularly apt, for it actually dictated his whole line of moral
conduct: ‘This is the whole science of self-discipline and holy war: to
purify one’s heart of all hatred towards one’s fellow creatures, of all
lust for the world, and of all preoccupation with sensual things; such
is the path of the Sûfis. . . .’
“Massoud’s personal mysticism led him to fight without hatred,
bitterness, or spirit of revenge, regarding armed conflict only as an
imposed and necessary evil in order to defend his people’s freedom,
certainly not as an end in itself to be enjoyed as bloodlust or
intoxication with power. He always provided protection for
humanitarian relief in the most difficult and dangerous circumstances,
looked for reconciliation with defeated enemies, and invariably treated
his war prisoners with humanity and dignity. To this I was witness,
and this is why I joined Massoud during those terrible days in the
1990s when two-thirds of Kabul were bombed out of existence.
Massoud sought peace for his land, and Massoud’s tragedy is that he
died before he saw it.”
(Barry, “Thoughts on Commander Massoud”)

MIRROR OF THE HEART

Whenever the Commander was with us, because the cave was small
and I was older, he asked me to sleep in the same cave as he did.
Cavemen. I remember he would wake up in the middle of the night,
go quietly out in the cold for ablution, and come back under his thin
blanket. Then I would hear him murmuring, not to curse the enemy,
but to reach his own heart. The more you reach your heart, the more
you polish your heart, and when the mirror of the heart is clean, you
can see the soul and the heart of others. So he saw the heart of others
through the mirror of his own.
(Masood Khalili)

“He appeared to have come from some fierce burnished other world.
There seemed an aura about him, as if somehow he remained
untouched by the frailties of politics and men. Placing his multicolored
three-by-five-foot prayer rug facing Mecca, he began to pray.”
(Plunk, The Wandering Peacemaker)

THE REAL FIGHT

People should have two dimensions. That is why I say, Commander
Massoud was a person of faith but in his other dimension he was
struggling for the liberation of his country. If he had just been
thinking about the struggle, he would not have been able to fight the
long fight for liberation.
What’s the use of liberating a piece of land and other people when
your soul is not liberated? That liberation movement is also called
jihad, which just means making positive efforts. It is the easiest effort
to go and fight, but the real fight is within your self—how you kill
greed, how you kill arrogance and anger. These things are important;
you are always in a kind of fight against the negative things in yourself
and others.
(Masood Khalili)
 SOMETHING COMING
Massoud had enormous admiration for Hafiz, and he made Masood
Khalili read and reread this one poem of Hafiz. When we learned of
his assassination, it was our impression that in his spirit he already felt
something was coming, that he was rising toward the spiritual world
through this poem, so clearly written and symbolic. We had trouble
getting him to come to Europe, and when he came, I sensed that he
felt something coming. You could see that he was not in his normal
state.
(Mehraboudin Masstan)

FOR THE LAST TIME

Massoud knew one or two weeks before that he was going to die.
Several days before, he was in the Panjshir sitting with his wife and his
children in his garden. They were eating grapes from Astana, a village
in the Panjshir with the best grapes in Afghanistan. He said to his
wife, “Maybe this is the last time we will eat grapes together.”
Immediately his wife asked him, “Pardon? Pardon? What did you
say?”
Then he spoke about something else because he knew that his wife
would be very upset if she knew he was going to die. But his wife
knew that he was not a normal person, and she started to cry. After a
moment he said, “I just wanted to make a joke.” His wife is such a
clear woman. She knew that he had a link with God, so she knew then
that her husband was going to die. I know because my wife talked to
her family.
(Ahmad Jamshid)
 ONE SOUL AND ONE HEART
In a lot of religions, the books are full of stories about leaders who
were wealthy conquerors. About Massoud, we say he was a good man
because when he lived, when he died, he had only one soul and one
heart, nothing else. He was a poor man. He did not exploit people and
he did not accumulate wealth.
Everything he did was because of his belief and his commitment. If
people go to his grave, it is with that sort of feeling, not like they
would go to the grave of a king. They go to Massoud’s grave because
they believe he is influential spiritually. Although he did not make that
claim, people think of him that way.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)

By “heart” I do not mean the piece of flesh situated in the left of our
bodies but that which uses all the other faculties as its instruments and
servants. In truth it does not belong to the visible world, but to the
invisible, and has come into this world as a traveller visits a foreign
country for the sake of merchandise, and will presently return to its
native land.
—Al-Ghazali, The Alchemy of Happiness
 22

THE SECOND DREAM

My heart, sad hermit, stains the cloister floor
with drops of blood, the sweat of anguish dire;
Ah, wash me clean, and o’er my body pour
Love’s generous wine! The worshippers of fire
Have bowed them down and magnified my name,
For in my heart there burns a living flame,
Transpiercing Death’s impenetrable door.
—Khwaja Shamsu-d-Din Muhammad-i-Hafiz
 TWO DREAMS
Massoud had two dreams. One was in 1979, when he became the
head of the Resistance in the Panjshir. He dreamt that an old man
came and tied his waist with some type of green cloth. Twenty-three
years later, two months before he was killed, he had the same dream,
but the man came back, opened that green cloth, and took it back.
The Muslim color is green, and when somebody ties something like
that on your waist it means you are strong and everybody is behind
you. And when they open the cloth and take it, it means your time is
up.
Massoud told his wife about his death. He told her what to do
when he died—what she should do, what she should not do—and he
told his son, Ahmad, what he should do after he died. He told him,
“When I die, don’t cry over my grave, over my body, because people
may think you are weak.” When they buried him, his son did not cry,
and he even spoke over the grave.
I heard this from a very close friend of Massoud, a family member.
The family would not make up this kind of story.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

“‘I can die at any moment . . . ’ [my husband told me,] . . . ‘and I want
to be sure that you will be the master of your emotions and be as
strong as a man. . . . I would not like you to lose your beautiful
courage. You must continue to live. You owe it to our children.’”
 (Sediqa Massoud, quoted in Hachemi and Colombani, Pour
L’amour de Massoud, 239)

THE WEEPING WILLOW

A little while before he died, I and a few people were with Massoud in
his garden in the Panjshir, when suddenly he said, “If I die I want my
grave there. I like that place so much.” He pointed at Saricha, and he
said, “Over there, can you see? That place is very good to plant a
young tree, to have a green land.”
He told his son Ahmad, “You know that weeping willow tree in
our garden? When you see that tree you can remember me, because I
planted it myself. If I die, you should not cry; you have to be a brave
man. Take care of your mother and your sisters. And my grave will be
over there on the hill. You can see me from our window, or you can
come every day by walking. Don’t tell anybody what I have said.”
(Ahmad Jamshid)

A FRAGMENT OF TOMORROW
A few days before September 9, 2001, Amer Saheb called me and
asked me urgently to come to him because we had business to do. I
had some apprehension, so I asked him what was the urgent business.
He said: “There is no important matter. I just want you to be here.”
On September 8, just before sunset, we went to a place where he
has a bedroom with air-conditioning. Air-conditioning is a big luxury,
but this one was old and made a lot of noise. A hero, the minister of
defense and vice president of a country, had a room with an old noisy
air conditioner! Anyway, there was a small cupboard, his bed, and a
bookshelf. On a small table beside his bed was a volume of the Holy
Koran and a poetry volume of the Dewan of Hafiz. On the other side,
there was a wooden chair on which supposedly he sometimes sat and
stretched his back, because he suffered from back pain.
Amer Saheb changed his clothes and wore white. Among his
blessed hairs there were silver ones. He had no hat, and I said to
myself, “How nice and bright he is looking.” He told me, “Before we
start talking, recite something that you can remember.” I recited this
poem:

Get up, so that the lovers, during the night, have secret talks.
They fly around the door and the roof of the beloved One.
Everywhere there is a door, they close it during the night.
Except the door of the Friend; they let it open, in the night.

Amer Saheb, who had a lot of literary taste, enjoyed it, asked me
to read it again and wanted me to express the meaning of it. Then he
gave his own interpretation of the poem, and that was a good
beginning for our conversation about history, Sufism, and mysticism.
It became a very special night.
Before I read the poem, he had asked someone to close the door
and bring green tea for our talk. I had perceived that when he was in a
very special mood he liked to make arrangements such as that. Later,
he picked up the Dewan of Hafiz and said: “They sent me this book
recently.” I don’t remember who had published the book, but I hope
they kept it. This was a book which included the explanation of every
word and the interpretation of the poems. We expressed our surprise
at what a wonderful book it was, and that the footnotes were more
than the text itself.
He said, “Let’s read lyric poems for an hour.” I noticed that the
poems were long, and that made me happy because I was always
transported to a special state when I had conversations with him. I
recited a couple of ghazals of Hafiz.
Our discussion turned to Sufis and their way of life. He was very
familiar with Imam Al-Ghazali and his book, The Alchemy of
Happiness, one of only two books of Al-Ghazali in his native
Dari/Persian language. He recalled a chapter of the book and asked
me if I had read it. I said I had been reading that book since my
childhood. He replied: “Read it again. That is a very important
book.” I made an excuse in the hope that he wouldn’t start that
subject, because that is a very long discussion.
He said: “Let’s consult the book of Hafiz to tell our fortune,” and
then he opened the book. It’s a tradition that we open the book,
whether it is someone who’s got a friend, a lover, or a mother who
has a child far from her—they just open it and see what happens, like
a fortune-teller. It’s a tradition; it’s not scientific. And in Afghanistan,
I open the book, and you read it for me, and whatever is written, we
will see what will happen to us. So, he opened the book, and he gave
it to me, and this is the poetry I read:

Many nights go, many days disappear,

Many months come, many years also go.
You and I will not be able to see each other again.
Oh, you two who are sitting,
Oh, you two, value tonight, value it.

When I read that, he just sat and said, “I opened it; did you see?”
He said, “Read it again. Read it and tell me what you see.” I read it
again, and I thought that Hafiz saying a night like this will not come
again meant we would not see each other on a night like this with the
window open, no one except him and me awake, in this poor remote
village on the bank of the Amu Darya [the Oxus River]. Not again the
beginning of autumn, and just one light lit, him and me, as we see
through the window. The stars are hanging, and the sky is like a
hanging ocean. Amu Darya is flowing like an arrow into the heart of
the history of mankind, and tomorrow or another day, this all will not
come again.
He smiled and said, “Well, beautiful interpretation. I hope we will
see each other again on such a night.” And then he asked me, “Do
you have anything else from Hafiz?” I opened the book again, and
another poem came. I read it to him:

Oh tonight, a fragment of tomorrow.

The world is nothing but a story of deception,
A story of passing away.
Tonight is a fragment of tomorrow.
You do not know what will be the child of tomorrow.
The child will be good for you or not.

And he said, “It is so beautiful,” and then—it was around four

o’clock—the poetry session ended. We were both silent. We could
hear the breeze of the early morning and smell the fragrance of that
village, so beautiful, so sweet. These things, they were going through
our hearts and souls. Who knows what will happen in the future? If
we had known, we would not have gone to the place of the bomb.
With these kinds of subjects and the lives of the saints, Hafiz,
Sanai, Attar, and so on, most of the night was passed. Certainly he
also spent an hour talking about politics. This was mainly focused on
the period when we were in Kabul. I was sometimes rude and turned
the discussion back to the question of why the period in Kabul
resulted in what was not supposed to be. He had given detailed
explanations and lengthy talks about it. Truly there are very few like
him, who have been so honest and sincere. At the end I read this
couplet to him:

Tonight you are listening to the story of my heart,

Tomorrow you forget me, as well as the story itself.

Now I realize how negligent I was. He said, “It’s still early,” but I
insisted it was too late and I should leave him so that he could sleep a
little bit. I did not pay attention to his words. He was kind to honor
me by escorting me downstairs and said that it would be good to eat
lunch on the bank of Amu Darya, and God willing we would continue
our talks there. And he repeated three times, “Inshallah” (God
willing).
In the morning when I got up, I saw a red teapot and a box of
coffee in my room. While he might have been preoccupied with
questions regarding the political and military poles, the deeds of
Pakistan, Central Asia, the Taliban, and others, when he got up for
the daybreak prayer, he sent me coffee, because he knew I, his guest,
liked coffee.
Around eleven-thirty that morning, he came, and those were the
best moments when I saw him so nice that morning. He wore a gray
shirt, a gray long jacket, very clean military pants, a pair of shiny
shoes, and no hat. He was so impressive that upon his entrance I
jumped up from my bed, without thinking of my back problem.
Now I remember the double couplet of camel driver Sarban of
Mawlana Jami which I also recited that night, and now I know why it
was joyful to him:
 Of the camel-driver I asked where my kindless moon is;
He answered, the one on the camel-litter is in another caravan.
I said, may I see him from a distance?
He said, don’t ask me, because the rein of that caravan
is not in my hands.

Who knew that I would recall with regret, because the rein of that
caravan is really in the hands of another camel driver. After that
tormenting event, often I see that whole night in my dreams, and I
read this double couplet again. At that time I didn’t know.
On that morning, Massoud said that we had an appointment, we
had to go and we had to hurry up. He made some quick calls,
accepted some short visits, and gave some instructions. The contents
of those conversations were merely political issues; it took all of ten
minutes, and when he was done he asked me, “What is on your
desk?” I said, “Tazkeratul-Awliya [Memorials of the Saints] of Attar.”
He said, “It’s good that we will work on this book today.”
Then he said, “There are journalists waiting for me. They are
Arabs too. They have been waiting for thirteen or fourteen days; it’s
not appropriate to let them wait any longer. We can finish the
interview in five minutes and then we will go to Amu Darya.” I
showed my aversion, not because they were Arabs, but because why
should they cause a delay in our excursion? He noticed this from my
facial expression and repeated, “We will finish the interview in five
minutes!”
Beside my room, there was a living room. A couch had been placed
there for the interview. He entered that room, and I followed him.
(This account is a combination of two interviews: the author’s
personal interview with Masood Khalili, and an earlier interview of
Mr. Khalili, which was published in Omaid Weekly, an Afghan
magazine (vol. 10, no. 499, November 12, 2001; no. 500, November
19, 2001; no. 501, November 26, 2001; and no. 502, December 3,
2001). Thanks to Mr. Mohammad Q. Koshan, editor-in-chief, for his
gracious permission to use Omaid’s material in this way.)

“MASSOUD: AN AFGHAN LIFE”

“I have just returned from a five-week stay in Afghanistan. I was in
Khoja Bahauddin when Commander Massoud was assassinated on
September 9, the signal for terrorist operations in the U.S. two days
later. In fact, I lived two doors down from the two terrorists, in the
guesthouse-cum-office next to the newly inaugurated guesthouse
where Commander Massoud was staying. That Sunday, around . . .
noon, as my American friend and I were getting ready to go to the
village square to buy Afghan clothes, from the common patio that ran
the length of the guesthouse rooms I watched the two terrorists go for
the ‘interview,’ their camera in a brown-mustard color briefcase
carried by Abdul, the waiter. They were accompanied by Fahim
Dashti, the Afghan photographer, and Assim Suhail, the official of the
Ministry of Foreign Affairs in charge of both buildings. . . . Within
thirty minutes, Commander Massoud was dead. . . .
“When we returned around one-thirty p.m., all was silent. The
square and all the shops, the women in the fields, the village water
carriers, the girls picking up dung for fuel, the men going to the public
bath, the workers erecting the new hospital, the mullahs’ call to
prayer, all had fallen silent. I think even the babies had stopped
crying. The silence was palpable, like the sun pounding on the Sahara
at noon, as if life had deserted the village. Like a face turning blank . .
. all felt desolate and abandoned.
 “When you are in a state of war for as long as these people have
lived you develop a sixth sense. Nobody told these people what had
happened; they had heard an explosion and seen a plume of smoke
coming from the two-building compound at the edge of the village.
Their ears differentiate the types of explosions and smokes. They had
known instantaneously what had occurred. My American friend and I
could not tell. In the compound, only Nasser was softly crying and
told me that Assim was killed but that Commander Massoud was not
hurt (he would not change his story for the next six days). . . .
“There was no time to mourn, digest, even pray, everyone was
busy doing the work that was needed to be done in the compound.
What a life that you cannot spare a moment to shed a tear over your
dead! These officials, very few in number, were doing all the work
cheerfully; that was their duty not to show that Commander Massoud
was also dead. Even after they returned with Assim’s coffin and I
could see that their shirts were bloodstained, they told me it was from
washing Assim’s body. . . . On this day in Virgo, the month of
Commander Massoud’s birth, how their hearts must have felt, those
who knew the truth! . . .
“Zubair, who had finished the arrangements for his boss’s coffin,
came to me and asked me to convey to the two non-Afghan guests
that we would be spending the night elsewhere. His gracious
explanation was that Assim’s friends were planning to hold an all-
night vigil of reciting the Koran and he did not want our sleep to be
disrupted. I knew that it was really an even more gracious concern
that was pushing them to send us away: They did not know if they
were going to be attacked that night and wanted to spare the lives of
the three Westerners (Barbara Bick, my Jewish American friend;
Roland, a Frenchman; and me, an Afghan-American)! We took our
night stuff and were driven in a jeep to a far away dark serai of totally
dark rooms. . . .
“On the following Thursday . . . still not knowing Commander
Massoud had been assassinated, [I was flown] to Panjsher to join the
rest of our delegation. In Panjsher, Sara Felix, another member of our
American fact-finding team, on seeing me held me in her arms for five
full minutes. She was shaken by the news of the terrorists and by the
Taliban bombing the day before that had fallen on top of the
mountain beside her, now our, guesthouse. . . . On Saturday
Commander Massoud’s assassination was announced and the funeral
set for Sunday.
“As is the Afghan custom, Dr. Nilab Mobarez, an Afghan woman
. . . visiting Panjsher to inspect her clinic, and I went to his house to
extend our condolences to his wife. On our return I asked that we, the
women at the guesthouse, be allowed to attend the funeral, normally a
men-only ceremony. My reasoning was that Commander Massoud
was the first Afghan leader to have signed the Declaration of the
Essential Rights of Afghan Women, a document my association,
NEGAR-Support of Women of Afghanistan, helped three hundred
Afghan women draft and sign in June of 2000, and a document which
we are trying to make part of . . . the next constitution of
Afghanistan.* I said I wanted to personally pay my respect to this
fallen friend of Afghan women. They accepted, and so we were four
women who attended the funeral, two journalists, Nilab and myself.
“Early Sunday morning, we were driven to Commander
Massoud’s ancestral village. We walked down to the plain adjacent to
the Panjsher River across from Commander Massoud’s house perched
on the side of the mountain. On our way we drove by school girls on
balconies, with their uniform on, with pictures of Commander
Massoud or flags or flowers, waving and with tears flowing down
their cheeks. We heard and saw women on rooftops, their colorful
dresses aflutter in the small breeze, and wailing, and groups of grief-
stricken men walking towards the plain from every direction, some in
military garb, most dressed in everyday clothes . . . many wearing the
pakol hat that Commander Massoud made famous, others wearing
the regular turban of Afghanistan or bareheaded, many carrying large
banners or holding pictures. Beautiful voices from slow moving cars
were reciting glorious poetry of Afghanistan, uniformed security
patrols gently guiding the multitude. And all along this sole Panjsher
road, there were the bulky, upturned and rusted carcasses of Soviet
artillery, tanks and armored personnel carriers, silently but
unmistakably reminding us of Commander Massoud’s greatest
victory. . . .
“The plain [is] large, along the riverbank. . . . To the left it was
cordoned off by plastic mesh, reserved for the dignitaries and for the
helicopter that was to bring Commander Massoud’s body. We were
taken to this area. We watched and photographed the famous and
mighty of the free Afghanistan as they came in groups: President
Rabbani, Mr. Sayyaf, Haji Qadir, Mr. Hamoon, Commander
Bismillah Khan, Mr. Qanooni, Commander Khoshal Qol, Mr.
Sabawoon, Mr. Imad. . . .
“We scrambled to get pictures of Ahmad, Commander Massoud’s
12-year old son, who came a little later. He had arrived from a private
viewing of his father’s body. Dressed in a khaki suit and walking with
serious steps, Ahmad was quickly surrounded by the media. His
mannerisms, style and gait are completely like his father’s. His words
were the most effective. Composed and with gestures reminiscent of
his dad’s, he said, ‘My father’s killing was unjust and despicable. Now
the world knows that his struggle was just and his words true. His
untimely death will not cut short our fight for an independent
Afghanistan. We will continue with more fervor. I will not rest, but
work to realize his dream.’ His composure and his confident
knowledge of the situation made me understand what this war of
independence has done to every man, woman and child living this war
inside Afghanistan. . . .
“When the helicopter finally landed and the dust and wind
subsided, the crowd could no longer keep back its emotion. By now
there were thousands of men in the plain . . . (the official count later
was twenty-four thousand) and every one to a man, moaning aloud
like thunder, rushed in unison to hold the coffin. Dr. Abdullah who
came with the copter, tears streaming down his cheeks too, kept
begging them to hold back so the helicopter door could be opened. No
way.
“The weeping multitude was chanting endearments mixed with
verses of the Koran and was pushing. Finally, the security in charge of
the plain reached the copter; pushed the crowd aside and the pilot
opened the door to bring out this hero of Afghanistan and this
beloved of all of them for his final journey. The coffin, draped in the
green, black and white flag and verses of the Koran, and people
throwing flowers on it was carried to the widest part of the plain,
tenderly like a most cherished son, thousands of hands reaching to
touch it once as if that one touch would give them a piece of him
forever. . . . I respectfully kept near the jeep . . . and approached the
coffin and prayed only after the men’s prayer had finished. The
solemnity of the prayer, broken only by the rush of the Panjsher, had
a calming effect, but, again all wanted to carry the coffin to the road. .
..
“Saricha [the designated gravesite] is a mountaintop where
Commander Massoud kept his command post. It is several hundred
feet higher than the surrounding villages. . . . Its beauty lies not only in
its command of the entire valley up to Sangana and down to Dashtak,
with vistas of many lush green villages jutting out of the
mountainsides, and the rushing Panjsher River winding past it.
Saricha’s immediate horizon to the south east is the magnificent peaks
of the Hindu Kush with stark majesty unparalleled, a fitting place.
That which makes Afghanistan eternally unconquerable is now
holding in its arms one of its own, an undefeated son of Afghanistan. .
..
“I remained among my Afghan people, thousands of men of all
ages who, upon noticing me, would tell those in front, ‘let our sister
pass,’ ‘take her hand to cross the ditch,’ ‘watch for her that she
doesn’t slip over the rocks,’ ‘help her go over the bridge’ and many
other warm acknowledgements. With their backs hunched in sorrow
and many still wiping their tears . . . I could tell by their words and
their faces that I was shoulder to shoulder with Pashtuns and Hazaras
and Uzbeks and Turkmens and Noorestanis and Tajiks and Baluchis.
That day, along the road to Saricha, and . . . around the gravesite, the
whole Afghan mosaic was a single human quilt unified in their grief. .
..
“On the third day of the mourning which is the women’s day (also
called the wake), Nilab and I went to Mrs. Massoud’s. The house is
on a mountainside. The driveway is around a high hill hiding the
house from the view. Then you enter the gate and go up several sets of
flagstone steps, each reaching a terrace and each lined with fruit trees,
their golden delicious apples still green and hanging onto their
branches to ripen. Each terrace is a garden of many colored flowers
planted in large sections, reminiscent of Paghman, the summer resort
of my days. . . . The last terrace turns into a large patio that through
an orange painted wooden fence opens into the inner courtyard. Then
you finally see the house, a large structure, its three stories taller than
normal, and with its light blue paint and large white windows unlike
the houses of Panjsher but again much like what I remember of
Paghman’s homes. And yet, what you actually notice is the mountain,
as if the house and its gardens are pasted on it, close, colossal and in
its stony barrenness, beautiful. . . .
“As we walked into the inner courtyard we were engulfed by the
sound of explosions, airplanes flying overhead, and by the
pandemonium of hundreds of women running to the basement.
Ahmad was standing in the courtyard urging them to be calm and
asked us to enter the shelter, as the Taliban were bombing the house
and, although as yet none had fallen on the house specifically, the
women were panicky and he wanted them to go to the shelter and we
should too. When we found out that his mother was still upstairs in
the formal mourning room, we said we would join her. After a half-
hour the sounds stopped. I later learned that the bombs had fallen a
kilometer away, in Padrukh.
“Inside, Mrs. Parigul Massoud could not show her face. Her
beautiful green eyes shot from crying and her cheeks swollen, she kept
a large thick white scarf over her, mostly covering her face. She talked
about the hardest and loneliest night of her life, when she was
informed about his death but, due to security, no one could come to
see her. She and her mom spent the whole night crying and comforting
the scared and sobbing children. . . . She said she was wracking her
brain but found not one angry word uttered by him at home in all the
years they were married. He had told her she could wear whatever she
wanted in whatever color she wanted and run the house however she
preferred. I asked, and she gave me permission to take pictures of the
wake and get signatures for our Declaration from the hundreds of
women that had also come to share this moment of common grief and
tragedy. She told me, ‘Start right away because people leave early to
get home before dark. . . .’
“She told us that her husband was very fond of the youngest
[child] and, whenever home, would bathe her himself, kiss her tiny
feet and tell her a story before putting her to sleep. She mentioned that
he was interested in the children’s education and was happy when she
renovated the destroyed mosque of Jangalak into a village school and
sent the kids there. He often asked the children what they wanted to
become when they grew up. One time, Ahmad had said he wanted to
be a soldier like him, and he had said, ‘Don’t become one, because
then you will be like me, away from home all the time. Become a
medical doctor.’ Another time a daughter had said she wanted to
become a pilot and he had said, ‘And you will be shot down and I will
lose a daughter; become a teacher instead.’ How they all missed him! .
..
“The official mourning room was the living room. . . . Right above
the living room and almost as large, was Commander Massoud’s
library, the only room of the house that had furniture instead of the
mats used for sitting. He is known to have loved to read and was fond
of writing. In fact, the night before his assassination he stayed up very
late reading poetry with Massoud Khalili; and he kept a diary for over
[twenty] years, writing every night. . . . The fourth wall is all windows
overlooking the valley and the Panjsher. His desk, still with pens and
note pads on it, in the corner of these two window walls, takes in the
panorama, this Afghan symphony of mountain, river and countryside,
forever enduring, pristine and unchanged. . . .
“Except for the dictionaries shelf the other shelves were not full to
the brim, rather more like a work in progress. He may not have had
time to open all his book cartons as I later learned that Commander
Massoud had lived in the house for only twenty days before he was
assassinated. His wife also lamented that for the first time in their life
they had a house of their own and what she would do with it now
that he was gone. He had apparently designed it himself, his first love
being architecture. He had selected the paint colors and he had even
installed the thin . . . carpeting so common in Panjsher. . .
“I thought of all the books written about him, all the pictures
taken of him, of his exploits, victories, trials, and mistakes, of him as a
political leader, as a military genius, of him as a husband, a father, a
friend, of the span of his life so important for Afghanistan and the
world. And I thought how wonderful it would be to have a library
built in his name. He had built his own dream house and library. It
would be a marvelous affirmation of our Afghan life if there is also a
national library for him, this freedom fighter of Afghanistan who built
with his life the history of our times.”
(Nasrine Gross, “Massoud: An Afghan Life,” October 28, 2001,
www.kabultec.org/MASSOUD.html)

SO MANY TIMES
I heard that Massoud said before he passed away, “Karimalaila ilala
mahama razulilah” (God is great. I believe in God; God is One.
Everything is in God’s hands, and Mohammad is the Prophet.) Then
he said, “How are the others?”
It must be true, because his life was always in God’s hands. I am
sure 100 percent, because he said it so many times. We were always in
dangerous situations. Sometimes his bodyguards told him, “Don’t go
so far into the Taliban territory.” But he would always say, “My life is
in the hands of my God. When he decides that I die, I will die.” It’s
true. He had a link with God. I heard some days before that he didn’t
care when he died, that he accepted God’s decision.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

“No organized opposition, in Bin Lâden’s view, could be allowed to

subsist on Afghan soil when the hour came to blow up the Twin
Towers in New York and so provoke inevitable US intervention. And
in a deeper sense, Bin Lâden could not pretend to stand for the Afghan
National Resistance, and for the honour of Islam, because one other
man truly represented both.
“So Bin Lâden had him murdered.”
(Barry, “Thoughts on Commander Massoud”)

ONE THING I PASS ON

Whenever I now open Hafiz, I think about that night, and I say,
“What a night it was! What a valuable night. You were with your
friend for the last day and night of his life.”
In twenty-three years we never argued or shouted at each other,
and I always loved him. He was always my commander, my beloved,
and my friend, so whenever I open that book, I remember and read it
loudly and say, “Oh, you are not with me, but I know your soul is
around. I read for you. And when I go to the other world, I will have
only one complaint: My friend, you left without taking me.”
That was the story of the last night. I will never be tired of telling
this story—to myself, to my friends, to my beloved wife, to my
children, and to those who write books. And I hope this story will last
a long time when people read your book, that they will go with me to
the same village through your book and sit with both of us and feel
the same night and remember me and remember my friend. The one
thing I pass on is that he was a great man.
(Masood Khalili)
 23

BEACON OF LIGHT
Seek not my monument on the face of the earth
but look for it in the heart of the Friends.
—Jami (From “What is life and death?”
by Sayed Omar Ali-Shah, February 24, 1994, London)

I. ONE FAMILY’S MEMORY OF MASSOUD

UNCLE FARID
In 2001, I was in Paris with my brother, his wife, and his two
daughters. I took them to see Massoud because they really wanted to
meet him. He took this time to talk to them when the Taliban was 90
percent in control of Afghanistan, and he was the main leader fighting
against them.
(Farid Zikria)

MOTHER SURAYA
When I left Afghanistan in 1980, I used to hear stories about Ahmad
Shah Massoud, who was fighting with the mujahideen against the
Soviet occupation and wanted freedom for Afghanistan. It was my
dream to meet him, and when I went to Paris I had the opportunity to
finally do it. We sat down with my husband and my two daughters,
Madina and Arian. There isn’t a day that I don’t think about it.
He talked about how to make your family strong, and about the
roles of the mother and father. He asked us questions: Do you work?
What do you do? Do your daughters go to school? Who takes care of
them? As a woman, he made me feel I had such a big role in the life of
the family—how important it is to raise a good family, how you can
help your children. He appreciated that we carry most of the burden,
and he praised women a lot.
He emphasized the need to read strong poetry books like Rumi to
your children, and said that in the mornings we should play tapes of
the Koran for them, that it didn’t matter if they understood because
they could hear. He said, “You know the Koran is complicated, but
don’t worry if the kids are born in the United States; they will
understand later on.”
Sitting in a room with somebody like Massoud would have
normally made me nervous. He was the only hero I met with whom I
felt really comfortable. I felt I could ask him any question and he
wouldn’t hesitate to answer. He was very inviting, and you could see
in his eyes how happy he was to see a family who wanted to meet
him. He said, “Read to your kids, have faith in God and Islam, and
have strong values. That’s what Afghanistan needs.”
He wanted to get an idea of the life of an Afghan family in the
United States, so he asked my children if they spoke Farsi or English at
home, what was their primary language. Madina was thirteen, and
Arian was ten, and it was unbelievable how well he connected with
them. He believed because they were living in the United States,
English was important, but he emphasized that they should never
forget their true language, which was Farsi, Dari, or Pashtu. He
emphasized that even though we had to leave Afghanistan as refugees,
we should not forget our culture, heritage, and language.
He wanted to know if other refugees would return to Afghanistan
if the situation was better. He wanted to know, how is the school
system, how is the daily living in the United States. We live very
comfortably, but he made me feel like we are suffering as much as
people in Afghanistan, because, “We are there; at least we know
what’s going on. It’s more difficult to be away than it is to be
present.”
He talked about the elders. Children take care of the elders in
Afghanistan, and they all live in one big house. What do they do
abroad? He thought it was sad that in the United States you have to
work and you don’t have the time or the financial capabilities to take
care of your elders. He was surprised, and he kept saying, “Your
parents who have raised you, put you through your education, and at
the end of life you let them go?” For him it was very important to take
care of your elders, to preserve the traditions. What is a house without
elders, because they tell you stories, they communicate values. They
are respected in the household, and that’s how the children learn.
 He hoped people would return to Afghanistan in the future. We
couldn’t give him a definite answer, but we told him that people
financially can sometimes not go back. They settle here or they have
illnesses, so we talked about all of those issues. It was getting late, but
we had tea and cookies and kept talking. To me, it seemed like only
ten minutes. I had always talked about him to my children, so it was
the best thing for them to experience, and they still talk about him. I
can’t tell you how difficult his death was for us. It was a loss for the
whole world, because people like Massoud are so rare.
(Suraya Zikria)

DAUGHTER MADINA
When we went to Paris I was thirteen years old. I had heard about
Massoud from my father and my Uncle Farid, who loved him, but I
didn’t know very much. When we were in Paris my mom said,
“Ahmad Shah Massoud is here, and we are going to see him.” We
went to a beautiful hotel and I was kind of shaky; I couldn’t believe it.
We had to wait in another room because he was praying. Afterwards,
we all shook hands, and he sat down on the other side of the room in
a single chair.
We talked for two or three hours, and he was such a—I don’t
know how to say it. Just by his face and his features you could tell
what kind of a man he was, what he had gone through. He had strong
features, with lines on his forehead, and he was so clean, so pure. He
had just prayed and—usually when you go to Afghanistan there is no
water so people don’t take showers, but he was so clean. He was not
wearing shoes. Even in Afghanistan with no water he still prayed five
times a day.
 So we sat down and talked, and he asked me if I spoke Farsi or
English at home. I do speak English but I mostly speak Farsi, so I
didn’t tell him that I spoke English because I wanted to make a good
impression. But when I talked in Farsi he noticed that I had a little bit
of an accent. He said to Dr. Abdullah, “Listen to her accent. Her
tongue is rolling because she speaks English.” I started to laugh, and
he said, “Good job!” He encouraged me to speak Farsi at home:
“Stick to your culture, to your language, your values. Read books,
learn about Islam, read the Koran, stick to your religion. Don’t let
American society pull you away from it.”
He asked my father, when Afghanistan becomes free, would you
come back or are you very attached to the luxuries of the United
States. And my father said, “Of course I will come.” Massoud said
everybody should come; it is the new generation that should come and
rebuild. He looked at his watch and said, “I am waiting for my plane
to come so that I can go back to my country. I am sure my friends will
ask me if I saw the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and I will tell them no,
because every minute I was looking at my watch waiting to see when I
could go back.”
He said to read the Koran, be a good Muslim, help your country.
And there is a book he told my mother that she should read to us. He
told us always to remember where we are from, and that Afghanistan
will be free and we can go back and help our people. He talked about
older people. When he heard that in the United States they are placed
in nursing homes, assisted living homes, and nobody cares, it was new
to him because in Afghanistan it is not like that.
Massoud had a big influence on me. Like I told you, I didn’t know
very much about Afghanistan, but after meeting him and knowing
what kind of person he was, how much passion he had, I felt, gosh, it
would be great to someday go there to see what it is like. I couldn’t
believe that someone would sacrifice his entire life for the freedom of
his country. He spent all his life in a war in Afghanistan, and he had
such a great passion that all he wanted to do was go back.
(Madina Zikria)

A MOTHER’S DECISION
I have sent my daughter to Afghanistan. She is sixteen years old, and I
decided to let her go so she can see it. People said she is going to get
sick, etc. I thought, I leave it in God’s hands. If something is going to
happen to her it’s going to happen. I just said, “May God be with her.
Let her find her way in life; let her see her roots.” She called me many
times and said, “Mom, thank you for the best opportunity of my life.”
Massoud made me feel that if you are a woman you can do this, that
both men and women can do it.
Right now, the world needs people who are more affectionate,
more human. Of course, you become a doctor and you make millions
of dollars. That’s it, and what is life? At sixty-five, you are retired and
you are gone, if you even live that long! But I want my children to
enjoy their lives, to be able to experience both worlds, to see and
make a choice. She is old enough right now, and I told her that while
she is there I don’t want her to sit around the house. “Go out, go to
the hospitals, meet people, meet the ill, talk to the children in the
streets.” And when she comes back she will study hard, she will try to
be somebody, and whatever she decides to do hopefully will benefit
people in the world.
My daughter called and told me, “This is so fulfilling.” I asked her
what she meant and she said, “I gave a pencil to a little boy, and he
gave me a hug. He had tears in his eyes, and he thanked me so much.
He didn’t have shoes on his feet, and I felt that I have done the best
thing. It was so fulfilling for me, just giving my pencil.” She will
always remember in the back of her mind, wherever she is in her life,
she will remember that. May God be with her.
Human beings, they are all created by God. Why are they suffering
and we are not, over here? But she has to realize that we are suffering
in a different way. God gave us all this, and we should give back
somehow. Some people say, why does God allow such cruelty. It’s a
test for us, so we can give back to those in need, whether in money,
love, comfort, hope. One of the strongest things that Massoud gave to
the Afghans, there and here, was hope. And hope keeps a human
being alive.
(Suraya Zikria)

MADINA’S JOURNEY
My trip to Afghanistan was wonderful. I was born and raised in the
United States, and it was all new for me, like a different world. I was
able to do donations for the little kids, I made school clothes, I did a
lot of things that I wanted to do for the poor. Since I came back, my
whole focus is what can I study, what can I do so that some day I can
go back over there and help. I had never seen poverty—so many poor
people, so many ruins. When I went there I realized what it meant.
I met so many people. Even the little kids selling books in the
streets, they all became such good friends of mine. Every day I was
with them, I would bring them inside. I would take them to the bakery
and buy them bread and cook for them and buy them ice cream. We
got their measurements for black shirts and white scarves and took
fabric to a seamstress. We bought sixty pairs of sneakers, and
notebooks, pencils, pens, rulers, pencil sharpeners for about forty
children—a bunch of stuff just to help out.
Before, a lot of them were begging in the streets. We said, “Don’t
beg. You are getting older, and it is going to become a habit. Go to
school, and after school sell books, sell newspapers instead of begging
in the streets.” Some of them told me if they didn’t go home with a
certain amount of money for the family at the end of each day, they
got in trouble and got punished.
Such a poor country. Amazing. And they all love Ahmad Shah
Massoud, and they sell his pictures and books. I told them that I met
him, and they were shocked. One of the little boys said that when he
passed away the entire town of Kabul wore black coats and was
devastated.
(Madina Zikria)

II. TO THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN

“He often took him [Ahmad] aside to chat with him. My son never
told me what they spoke about . . . but the wind brought me some
pieces of conversation: ‘Promise me that if something happens to me,
you will not try to avenge me,’ and ‘When I die, will you be strong
enough to carry me on your back to the top of the mountain?’ . . . but
these kinds of reflections came in the conversation as philosophical
considerations, as things that a father tells his children to show them
that life is not only of a material nature.”
(Sediqa Massoud, quoted in Hachemi and Colombani, Pour
L’amour de Massoud, 246)
 LIKE INTERVIEWING THE BUDDHA
I interviewed Ahmad. He really is his father. He was only twelve years
old then, but he had such wisdom and insight. He was well spoken,
but he was also a child. While we interviewed him his friends were
waiting for him to finish so he could go play, but he had all the
dignity of his father. He was very aware that his father was dead, and
that some day he might be called upon, too, to lead Afghanistan, so he
had to study hard because if he were to lead Afghanistan he would
need to be educated in all these things, and it was very important at
age twelve that he really do his own work.
We asked about Al-Qaeda having killed his father, and what
would he do with Al-Qaeda. And he shook his fingers, and he said,
“No, no, no. I don’t know for sure that it was Al-Qaeda. If it is, then I
would have to think what to do. But I don’t know for sure if it was,
and I would have to prove it before I blame them.” He is twelve, and
he just lost his father, and in a country that has been so hurt by blood
feud, rivalries, and revenge killings! Clearly he was above this, and
clearly he got that from his father.
After half an hour Ahmad said, “Well, can I go to play now?” We
were not able to use much of that interview because it’s American
television, so it was a couple of phrases and not much more, but it
was one of the most amazing interviews I’ve ever done. It was in
2001. I was with Reza and two guys from ABC News and we were
just silent, speechless. It was like interviewing the Buddha or the
young Dalai Lama.
(Sebastian Junger)

BEFORE KARZAI COULD SPEAK

About three years ago, there was a ceremony for Massoud, and
President Karzai went to the Panjshir Valley to participate. [This was
one year after the assassination.] I went there two days beforehand
and talked to Ahmad. I said, “Ahmad, the president of Afghanistan is
coming. He will see you and talk with you, and you should speak
carefully. He is going to ask you some questions.” And he said,
“Uncle, don’t worry. I will answer his questions,” and then he ran
away from me. I thought, well, he is fourteen years old; it doesn’t
matter.
Believe me, the next day when Mr. Karzai came to the Panjshir
Valley and to our garden in Jangalak, I had Ahmad sitting right next
to me. Mr. Karzai was sitting on the right side with his cabinet, Dr.
Abdullah, Mr. Fahim. (More than half of his cabinet was attending
the ceremony.) Before Karzai spoke, Ahmad said, “First, thank you
for coming to this valley. Second [referring to an operation in
Kandahar in which they tried to kill Karzai], thank God that incident
passed safely. I am very happy, believe me. Third, thank you for
serving as a leader of Afghanistan. I pray to God that you will be
successful as a head of the government. And fourth, if you want to
succeed, you can follow my father’s path.” Even for me it was very
strange that this fourteen year old was brave enough to say such
things.
Then he turned to Dr. Abdullah and Mr. Fahim and asked them,
“How is your job? Dr. Abdullah, how are the foreign affairs? What is
going on there?” Just like his father. It looked as if he had given them
their jobs and now he was asking about them.
Most of the journalists wanted to interview Ahmad, so they did
not go with Karzai back to Kabul. Ahmad was wonderful and never
stopped, even with all the questions they asked.
 The next day he came to Kabul, and in the Kabul stadium he gave
a very nice speech in front of thousands of people. He talked about his
father, the future of the government, and I remember he said, “This is
not a day for us to cry. We should promise to continue Massoud’s
way.”
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

OF COURSE I WILL COME

Ahmad is very smart. I saw him a few months ago in Kabul. A
Russian journalist came up to him and asked if he was studying, and
he said he studied in Mashar, Iran. The journalist said that Russia
would be glad to invite him there to go to school. I wondered what
Ahmad would say, because people in Afghanistan still think negatively
about Russia because of the war. I thought he might say, “Okay, I will
think about it,” or “Why not?” or something like that. He is only
fourteen.
You know what he said? “Well, my father loved to travel, but
unfortunately he had to fight the Soviets and then the Taliban to free
the country. Right now, I am in Mashar. When I am done with my
studies, then I will travel all around the world, and of course I will
come to Russia as well.”
(Farid Zikria)

III. ALWAYS IN OUR HEARTS

When you are buried in the hearts of the people, you are always alive.
If you are in their minds, they may forget. That’s what I personally
believe.
—Masood Khalili

“[At Massoud’s] grave, where hundreds of visitors flock each week,

there are no pictures of the slain freedom fighter. Once there were
photographs in abundance. And then came a one-legged Afghan
soldier, a man who claimed to have once fought with Massoud. The
soldier had a message. Massoud, he claimed, visited him in a dream.
In the dream, he said, Massoud had one request: Take down the
pictures, the coins, the gifts, all of it.
“This being a land where dreams are taken seriously, the pictures,
the flowers and the coins came down. The two soldiers standing guard
at the tomb are its only decoration.”
(Teresa Wiltz, “The Lion’s Tracks: Northern Alliance
Commander’s Assassins Killed the Man, but His Memory Lives On,”
The Washington Post, April 5, 2002)

“Massoud’s tombstone in his beloved Panjshir valley: In this place the

Lord of liberty sleeps. ‘My war was not to obtain the right to govern,
but to safeguard the dignity and honor of Afghanistan and her
people.’”
(“Prelude to 9-11: The Assassination of Ahmad Shah Massoud,”
www.keshertalk.com/archives/2006/09/massoud.php, September 9,
2006)
 FULFILLING A DREAM
Massoud always wanted to have a hospital just for women, because
the Panjshir is a very remote area, and for the last twenty-three years
it has always been blocked off because of war. We lost a lot of
children at birth, and there were no medical clinics for them. We will
fulfill that dream. My mother donated the land, and we hope to get
some aid from the U.S.A. to build the hospital.
(Sher Dil Qaderi)

TOO SOON
We try to do what we can nowadays, but there is a void. Massoud left
us too soon. He could have done so much for Afghanistan, for the
region, and for the world—he had the ability. I see clearly that
everyone on our side tries to do something, but it is not even a tenth
of what he could have done.
When we see what is happening today in Afghanistan, even though
there is aid from the international community, from international
troops and all, there is still a leader missing. It is like a plane which is
super-equipped with everything but has no pilot. This is not meant as
a slur against President Karzai or anyone else, but Massoud was a
leader so competent that even a junked plane—one destroyed and
lacking everything—he would have been able to take off with it. This
is the reason things are going slowly, not only for Afghanistan, but for
the region and for the whole world.
(Mehraboudin Masstan)
 THE IMPACT
In the whole history of Afghanistan, not so many people have written
or recited poems, or have talked, or have shed tears. People who never
saw him at all, but immediately, when they talk about Massoud, it
affects them and they just cry. You can go to Afghanistan and ask
children as young as seven, and you can see the effects of Massoud’s
death on them. Men, women, friends, enemies—you can see the
impact.
(Ahmad Wali Massoud)

THE BIGGER PICTURE

There are a lot of things that I used to take for granted, a lot of things
that used to upset me, but since I spent time with Massoud I have
tried to look at a bigger picture. I tried to say, okay this is part of life,
we’ll just have to accept it, go on, and do better next time. My God,
he hardly slept, but he had time to read, time to spend with the family,
time to help the needy, time to fight for a good cause, and here we are
complaining about small things. Every human being at some point has
to realize what is the purpose of life. Massoud appreciated life, and he
did something about it.
(Suraya Zikria)

WE ARE ALL MASSOUD

I am not a religious person. I can’t look to heaven, so I have to find
my explanation in the world in front of me. When I met Massoud, it
seemed clear to me that there are certain people who are very
profoundly different than anyone else. I had the feeling that the great
religious leaders in the world must have had some quality like that. In
another situation Massoud would have taken that same quality and
gone in a more spiritual direction, but he was needed in a different
capacity, so he was a fighter, not a saint. But it gave me an insight into
people who have provided great religious direction.
When Reza Deghati and I heard that Massoud had been killed, we
called one of his secretaries, a young man in his late twenties, and
Reza said, “I am calling with Sebastian to find out that the terrible
news is not true.” And the man said, basically, “Yes, the news is true,
but it will be okay, because now we are all Massoud.” I thought that
was such a wonderful way of dealing with the loss, that if you are
with someone you love or with a great person, they don’t really die
because you absorb some of who they are, and that is their legacy.
The experience changed me in a way that will last my whole life. I
had the luck and honor to meet somebody who believed absolutely in
human dignity and who decided to fight for it, and ultimately he died
for it. It was something that he was not going to concede. His life was
not important in that larger battle. There are people who have
sacrificed their lives in that fight for human dignity, and I read about
them, but Massoud is the only one I met and shook hands with. You
don’t need much contact with someone who has made that decision
about themselves for it to have a very inspiring effect on you.
Before he was killed, just by encountering him, I left thinking, that
is a worthy life to lead, for a military commander or a journalist.
What Massoud is doing, maybe you can do something about it as a
journalist—and you could do something as a schoolteacher. Anyone in
the world could do that in their own way if they chose to. There was
something essential about how to live properly and how to fight for
human dignity that I saw in Massoud, and I thought that we can all
do this. That was what the man meant when he said, “Now we are all
Massoud.”
(Sebastian Junger)

A LOVELY FRIEND
I was not saddened by Massoud’s assassination; that was what he
knew and accepted when he took the first step. However, we lost a
very dear and kind father, a real commander and chief, a dear brother,
and a lovely friend. May God Almighty grant Massoud the highest
place in Paradise.
I conclude my words with a poem by Khalillullah Khalili, a great
poet of my country, written to praise heroes like Massoud. This poem
is about those who make history and remain in many hearts, and so
never die.
Man does not die by death;
Death only steals his name.
As death renders eternal,
How can he simply die?
(Daoud Zulali)

A NEVER-ENDING STORY
Massoud for me was a complete human being, a symbol of morality,
of bravery, of love. When I remember, my feeling is not as his brother,
but more as a human being. His attitude towards his people, his
country—in this regard he is very valuable to me. And I am not the
only one who feels this way. Dr. Abdullah who was with Massoud all
the time, we talk about Massoud all day. We don’t talk about, oh, he
was so brave that he captured that town. We talk about his friendship,
his humility, his love, his attitude towards his people. It’s a never-
ending story.
(Mohammad Yahya Massoud)

IN THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS

I remember his smiling face all the time, a very kind face. When you
say anything about him, about that time, his face comes to my mind
like a picture, and then I miss him. Whenever there is a problem or
too many challenges in the government, I miss him. We are in a
situation that the whole world is helping to support Afghanistan, but
there was a time that nobody was helping; only he was there. I miss
him in the challenges, because I think he would have led us to
solutions.
Would Massoud have liked me to do that? Would he have liked
me to do it this way or not? We are constantly asking ourselves these
things. So his colleagues were affected, but even people who were not
close friends or helpers were affected by just seeing him once or twice
or having heard him. I feel pity for those who did not see what so
many saw in him, who were not affected. Not to seem prejudiced, but
there must be something wrong with them. How could anybody not
be affected?
There are people that, the more they realize, the more they regret
not having seen what was special in Massoud. For example, in this
year of Massoud’s anniversary, people from different walks of life
who just heard about him from the radio have become stronger
activists than our own colleagues. That is something—that when he is
not even here he has the people behind his vision.
I know our history, and there are lots of heroes and good things
that people said about them, but you cannot find anybody who
developed all Massoud’s qualities in such a comprehensive manner
and so that they did not get damaged at all, even though he was
caught in a war. My perception and feeling was that he was the most
peaceful person, peaceful with himself and with others.
Massoud is not with us, but I can see his qualities better now.
When he was among us, we didn’t have time to reflect. Now we have
time to see, and I cannot see a comparable personality in our history
in the last thousand years.
(Dr. Abdullah Abdullah)

FOR A MINUTE OR A LIFETIME

Massoud was genuinely a hero, a man of heroic proportions, in a way
that only a traditional society can produce. The modern world does
not produce heroes of that stature. It may produce a hero or a heroine
in the sense of an ordinary person who is caught in a crisis and does
something heroic for a minute, but in terms of a hero over a lifetime,
we want our leaders to be good managers, not heroes. I know that I
will never meet anybody like Massoud again, and everything else is
boring normality.
(Anthony Davis)
 WHAT IS A HERO?
In the contemporary history of the world, and specifically
Afghanistan, Massoud’s qualities and his leadership are something
that has not been seen in a long time. Massoud has been given the title
of National Hero of Afghanistan. He wasn’t attached to material
things. After he was gone, what was left was not money, but his
memory and a mud house in the Panjshir Valley.
(Sayed Ahmad Hamed Noori)

FROM MY HEART
Everything I see about my country reminds me of him. I came to this
country [England] to study English, economics, and everything for
him, and I will finish it for him, honestly, from my heart. My learning
English is very useful at the moment because I can tell you about him.
Then I would like to work for the Massoud Foundation.
(Ahmad Jamshid)

I SAW MYSELF
The way I saw Massoud was—I can ask myself, are you kind to older
men? I saw him as a reflection for me. In Japan, if I publish a book
people say, “Oh, you are very good,” so I was a little bit self-satisfied.
But when I went to Afghanistan and saw Massoud, I said to myself,
“You are nothing. In Japan people say you are great, and then you are
satisfied; you are happy. But when you come here and see the Afghan
people, you realize you are nothing.” It gave me more of a perspective.
The way I see Massoud, I see myself. It’s like a mirror.
(Hiromi Nagakura)

“Forty-two-year-old Rustem, his face chiseled bronze . . . abandoned

his books to fight alongside Massoud. He misses Massoud, he says,
but only to a point. . . .
“‘Martyred people don’t die,’ he explains. ‘Massoud lives on,’ he
says, in their minds, in their homes. In their dreams.
“Just the other night, Massoud stepped into Rustem’s dream.
Rustem followed him, and as he trailed his leader, thousands followed
suit, a long line of mourners snaking through the Panjshir. Massoud
walked, and walked, until he reached his grave. And there he stopped,
turning to face the crowd. ‘Why are you following me?’ Massoud
asked them. ‘We’ve reached our goal, success against the Taliban. You
don’t need to follow me anymore.’”
(Wiltz, “The Lion’s Tracks”)

WIN OR LOSE
We saw him in victories and we saw him in defeats, but we never
changed our minds about him. Usually, when somebody wins he is
praised, and when he loses, people discard him, but for us, Massoud
was always a respected figure. We did not expect him to thank us for
what we did. Really, we needed him more than he needed us.
(Engineer Mohammed Eshaq)
 STILL WITH US
We, as his followers, are proud of having worked with such a leader.
None of us questioned for a single instant our readiness to sacrifice
ourselves for his noble cause. He never feared anything, even death.
Knowing that he was such a great leader, we all have to follow his
path and his cause. Even though he’s not among us any more, his
ideal, his will, and his goal stay with us.
(Yunnus Qanooni)

“The terrible, violent 20th century finally came to an end: with its
record of three totalitarian assaults on human dignity, three almost
unprecedented perversions of the human mind. The Nazi: the
perversion of right-wing politics. The Leninist or Soviet: the
perversion of left-wing politics. And the Tâlibân and al-Qâ’ida: the
perversion of religion injected into politics. . . .
“Yet . . . the legacy of all three perversions, when all accounts are
tallied, has been simply: mass murder, and a permanent besmirching
of mankind’s perception of itself. Massoud was born just after the first
of these perversions had at last disappeared from this earth, but he
fought magnificently against the other two. Massoud contributed
mightily to defeat the second perversion, the Soviets; he helped rid
humanity of its lingering enigmatic nightmare, and lived to see its end.
Massoud also contributed just as mightily to defeat the third
perversion, al-Qâ’ida. Here he did not live to see its end. But
Massoud’s sacrifice hastened al-Qâ’ida’s end in Kabul itself. And
Massoud’s message of religious decency, of profound faith in a creed
of mercy, as opposed to a creed of hate, has helped check this third
great perversion all around the world today.
 “For victoriously waging these two struggles, we, who are alive
today, remain forever in Massoud’s debt. . . .”
(Barry, “Thoughts on Commander Massoud”)

“The death of Commander Massoud had a special significance to me.

I had known Commander Massoud for many years, even before I
went to Afghanistan in 1988. . . . He was a man I deeply respected. . .
. Massoud was a hero. He was a giant of a man.”
(Rohrabacher, “Challenge Facing America”)

“Three Taliban were dragged out of a bunker, dirty and terrified, and
pushed along through the crowd toward the side of the road. One was
an old man, a Turk, wounded in the chest, who claimed he was a
cook. A young Alliance soldier cocked his gun and started to haul him
off the road but was stopped by Reza, the photographer I was
working with. Reza told the soldier in Dari that he had known
Massoud during the ’80s, when they were fighting the Russians and
that Massoud had absolutely forbidden the mistreatment of prisoners.
“‘I have all your photographs,’ Reza warned. ‘Respect the memory
of Massoud, or I will report you all.’”
(Junger, “Massoud’s Last Conquest”)

THE FOOD IN QUESTION

I think that if we continue to speak of Massoud, for a thousand years
to come he will be there. This is a person who must not be hidden
away. When I think of him, I always think of one of the verses of the
Koran, which was the subject of debate when I was young. It said,
“God gives food to whomever wants it, as much as he wants.” We
young militants, when we would argue about this verse, we would
say, “Does this justify social injustice?”
One day I came across a writing of Maulana [Rumi]—the leader of
the whirling dervishes, who also originated in Afghanistan—and that
verse was explained: “The point is not material food, for it is because
of material food that Adam was forced to leave Paradise.” The food in
question in the Koran is that which allows us to enter into Paradise,
and it is this spiritual food which few people ever taste. According to
this explanation, those who taste it are the prophets and walis
[spiritual masters], and I believe Massoud will be found among them.
This is why we will continue to speak of him.
(Humayun Tandar)

THOSE TWO BOYS

I love to recall Massoud. As I remember him, it gets the grief out of
my heart. A man of great dignity, he was also a simple man—an
ordinary man with the soul of a baby and the innocence of a child. He
had the power to stand against the enemy, and also the power of
forgiveness. This is very important, forgiving. “We should forgive and
forget—not just forgive, but forget,” he said to me. I could see that
this man loved God in a different way—through his heart rather than
through books.
After the explosion, I was unconscious for seven days. I spoke, but
I could not remember. When I opened my eyes, my wife and my son,
Mahmud, were there, and I said to my wife, “Where am I?” Then I
remembered everything, except the seven days which were not
recorded in my memory.
My first question was, “Close the door. Come here. What
happened to my friend?” My wife was brave enough to tell me a verse
from the Koran. “We all have come from God and go back to Him.
Your friend returned,” she said. It was difficult.
Then I told them—I have forgotten to mention those two boys that
died and made me blind [the assassins]—“Son, don’t take revenge on
my behalf. I don’t have anything against them in my heart,” and then
I became unconscious again.
Did they have wives, did they have kids, those who killed my
friend and wounded me? I said to my wife, “Be grateful that you can
see me. They cannot see their wives.” When you have this power,
which God gave me at that moment, when you have this power not to
foster revenge in your heart, then the enemy is not your enemy, he
becomes your friend.
(Masood Khalili)

THE SECRET FOUNTAIN

To think of Ahmad Shah Massoud is to touch the mystery of how
death can bring life: “The blood of martyrs is the seed of faith.” Such
a dying is the work of a lifetime. There were countless moments of
death during the twenty years that he struggled for his faith, his
people, his land. Endless hours tramping through frozen ravines in the
winter and over blistering boulders in the summer. Never to spend the
night in the same cave or hut. Watching the jaws of war devour one
friend after another.
 From what secret fountain did his strength flow? The West can
scarcely understand him, however awed we may feel before such
sacrifice, before the incredible smile of a man who had a vision of
freedom so different from our own. The secret way is closed to many
because the mystery of a world beyond this one no longer lives in the
Western heart.
Massoud is no Che Guevara; he was not interested in a war that
results in mere social restructuring. No, Massoud made his own the
struggle of God, the struggle for true freedom in the heart of man.
Too often man defines freedom in terms of freedom “from. . . .”
Massoud knew it as freedom “for.” For? For what? Ultimately for
God. Yet one never seeks God without finding in His eyes every other
man and woman, without discovering a brother in the face of every
child.
To understand Massoud one must touch his world: the face of a
small child orphaned by a Russian bomb, the beautiful rushing waters
of the Panjshir, the well-worn pages of the Koran. The true struggle
for freedom is won when we are free for one another. That is why this
man could evoke such confidence from the hearts of his people: they
knew he had given himself totally to them; not to a faceless amalgam
of the proletariat, but to this man, this child, this woman.
“I am fighting for your liberty.” Will we know how to use it? Will
we again believe enough in the world around us to rise up and give
ourselves to our brothers and sisters, and yes, ultimately to God? The
death of martyrs is the seed of faith.
(Contemplative nun living in a convent in Europe)
 EPILOGUE

And we have come to the end of this journey to

Massoud. It is my hope that it has left in you, the
reader, a lasting memory of the Afghanistan I love and
the man who gave his life to save it. Wherever your
next journey takes you, may you follow a good star,
as an old wise man told me once. And may the
sacrifice of Ahmad Shah Massoud and the Afghans
continue to inspire people all over the world,
especially those who are in real need.
As I finish this book, I remember Massoud, and
this excerpt from a story of Jorge Luis Borges comes
to me:

History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of
God and told Him: ‘I who have been so many men in vain want to be one and
myself.’ The voice of the Lord answered from a whirlwind: ‘Neither am I
anyone; I have dreamt the world as you dreamt your work, my Shakespeare,
and among the forms in my dream are you, who like myself are many and no
one.’
 —Jorge Luis Borges (“Everything and Nothing,”
Labyrinths, New York: New Directions, 1999, 248)

(We would like to thank Mrs. María Kodama, widow of Jorge Luis
Borges and President of the International Foundation Jorge Luis
Borges, for allowing the publication of these beautiful words from
Borges)
 APPENDIX A
MASSOUD’S LETTER TO THE PEOPLE OF
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA (1998)

I send this message to you today on behalf of the freedom and peace-
loving people of Afghanistan, the Mujahedeen freedom fighters who
resisted and defeated Soviet communism, the men and women who
are still resisting oppression and foreign hegemony and, in the name of
more than one and a half million Afghan martyrs who sacrificed their
lives to uphold some of the same values and ideals shared by most
Americans and Afghans alike. This is a crucial and unique moment in
the history of Afghanistan and the world, a time when Afghanistan
has crossed yet another threshold and is entering a new stage of
struggle and resistance for its survival as a free nation and
independent state.
I have spent the past 20 years, most of my youth and adult life,
alongside my compatriots, at the service of the Afghan nation, fighting
an uphill battle to preserve our freedom, independence, right to self-
determination and dignity. Afghans fought for God and country,
sometimes alone, at other times with the support of the international
community. Against all odds, we, meaning the free world and
Afghans, halted and checkmated Soviet expansionism a decade ago.
But the embattled people of my country did not savor the fruits of
victory. Instead they were thrust in a whirlwind of foreign intrigue,
deception, great-gamesmanship and internal strife. Our country and
our noble people were brutalized, the victims of misplaced greed,
hegemonic designs and ignorance. We Afghans erred too. Our
shortcomings were a result of political innocence, inexperience,
vulnerability, victimization, bickering and inflated egos. But by no
means does this justify what some of our so-called Cold War allies did
to undermine this just victory and unleash their diabolical plans to
destroy and subjugate Afghanistan.
Today, the world clearly sees and feels the results of such
misguided and evil deeds. South-Central Asia is in turmoil, some
countries on the brink of war. Illegal drug production, terrorist
activities and planning are on the rise. Ethnic and religiously-
motivated mass murders and forced displacements are taking place,
and the most basic human and women’s rights are shamelessly
violated. The country has gradually been occupied by fanatics,
extremists, terrorists, mercenaries, drug Mafias and professional
murderers. One faction, the Taliban, which by no means rightly
represents Islam, Afghanistan or our centuries-old cultural heritage,
has with direct foreign assistance exacerbated this explosive situation.
They are unyielding and unwilling to talk or reach a compromise with
any other Afghan side.
Unfortunately, this dark accomplishment could not have
materialized without the direct support and involvement of influential
governmental and non-governmental circles in Pakistan. Aside from
receiving military logistics, fuel and arms from Pakistan, our
intelligence reports indicate that more than 28,000 Pakistani citizens,
including paramilitary personnel and military advisers are part of the
Taliban occupation forces in various parts of Afghanistan. We
currently hold more than 500 Pakistani citizens including military
personnel in our POW camps. Three major concerns—namely
terrorism, drugs and human rights—originate from Taliban-held areas
but are instigated from Pakistan, thus forming the interconnecting
angles of an evil triangle. For many Afghans, regardless of ethnicity or
religion, Afghanistan, for the second time in one decade, is once again
an occupied country.
Let me correct a few fallacies that are propagated by Taliban
backers and their lobbies around the world. This situation over the
short and long run, even in case of total control by the Taliban, will
not be to anyone’s interest. It will not result in stability, peace and
prosperity in the region. The people of Afghanistan will not accept
such a repressive regime. Regional countries will never feel secure and
safe. Resistance will not end in Afghanistan, but will take on a new
national dimension, encompassing all Afghan ethnic and social strata.
The goal is clear. Afghans want to regain their right to self-
determination through a democratic or traditional mechanism
acceptable to our people. No one group, faction or individual has the
right to dictate or impose its will by force or proxy on others. But
first, the obstacles have to be overcome, the war has to end, just peace
established and a transitional administration set up to move us toward
a representative government.
We are willing to move toward this noble goal. We consider this as
part of our duty to defend humanity against the scourge of
intolerance, violence and fanaticism. But the international community
and the democracies of the world should not waste any valuable time,
and instead play their critical role to assist in any way possible the
valiant people of Afghanistan overcome the obstacles that exist on the
path to freedom, peace, stability and prosperity.
Effective pressure should be exerted on those countries who stand
against the aspirations of the people of Afghanistan. I urge you to
engage in constructive and substantive discussions with our
representatives and all Afghans who can and want to be part of a
broad consensus for peace and freedom for Afghanistan.
With all due respect and my best wishes for the government and
people of the United States, Ahmad Shah Massoud.
(www.afghan-web.com/documents/let-masood.html [Afghanistan Online])
 APPENDIX B
DECLARATION OF THE ESSENTIAL
RIGHTS OF AFGHAN WOMEN
Dushanbe, Tajikistan, June 28, 2000

SECTION I
Considering that the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, as well
as the international statements addressing the rights of women listed
in Section II of this document, are systematically trampled in
Afghanistan today.
Considering that all the rules imposed by the Taliban concerning
women are in total opposition to the international conventions cited
in Section II of this document.
Considering that torture and inhumane and degrading treatment
imposed by the Taliban on women, as active members of society, have
put Afghan society in danger.
Considering that the daily violence directed against the women of
Afghanistan causes, for each one of them, a state of profound distress.
Considering that, under conditions devoid of their rights, women
find themselves and their children in a situation of permanent danger.
Considering that discrimination on the basis of gender, race,
religion, ethnicity and language is the source of insults, beatings,
stoning and other forms of violence.
Considering that poverty and the lack of freedom of movement
pushes women into prostitution, involuntary exile, forced marriages,
and the selling and trafficking of their daughters.
Considering the severe and tragic conditions of more than twenty
years of war in Afghanistan.

SECTION II
The Declaration which follows is derived from the following
documents:
- United Nations Charter.
- Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
- International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights.
- International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.
- Convention on the Rights of the Child.
- Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against
Women.
- Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women.
- The Human Rights of Women.
- The Beijing Declaration.
- The Afghan Constitution of 1964.
- The Afghan Constitution of 1977.

SECTION III
The fundamental right of Afghan women, as for all human beings, is
life with dignity, which includes the following rights:
1. The right to equality between men and women and the right to the
elimination of all forms of discrimination and segregation, based on gender,
race or religion.
 2. The right to personal safety and to freedom from torture or inhumane or
degrading treatment.
3. The right to physical and mental health for women and their children.
4. The right to equal protection under the law.
5. The right to institutional education in all the intellectual and physical
disciplines.
6. The right to just and favorable conditions of work.
7. The right to move about freely and independently.
8. The right to freedom of thought, speech, assembly and political
participation.
9. The right to wear or not to wear the chadari (burqa) or the scarf.
10. The right to participate in cultural activities including theatre, music and
sports.

SECTION IV
This Declaration developed by Afghan women is a statement,
affirmation and emphasis of those essential rights that we Afghan
women own for ourselves and for all other Afghan women. It is a
document that the State of Afghanistan must respect and implement.
This document, at this moment in time, is a draft that, in the
course of time, will be amended and completed by Afghan women.
Info and send support statement to:

American Friends of Negar—Support of Women of Afghanistan,

attn.: Nasrine Gross, PO Box 2079, Falls Church, VA 22042
Tel. 703-536-6471, email: negarusa@hotmail.com
website: http://perso.wanadoo.fr/negar/englishsite/

Headquarters: NEGAR—Soutien aux Femmes d’Afghanistan,

attn.: Shoukria Haidar, BP 10, 25770 Franois, France, email:
negar@wanadoo.fr (website same as above)
 APPENDIX C
IN THE NAME OF GOD, THE ALMIGHTY
AND THE JUST

FRAMEWORK FOR PEACE FOR THE

PEOPLE OF AFGHANISTAN (APRIL 19,
1998)
The members of the United Islamic National Front for the Salvation of
Afghanistan, in order to establish lasting peace and national
reconciliation, heal the wounds inflicted by twenty years of
devastating war, and provide for the social and economic welfare of
the people, do hereby offer this framework for peace for the people of
Afghanistan:

1. The United Front and the Taliban shall cease-fire and all heavy weapons shall
be withdrawn from the front lines. The city of Kabul shall be de-militarized, and
the exchange of all prisoners of war shall commence.
2. A transitional government shall be established in Kabul for a period of six
months to one year, and shall be composed of either of the following:
Impartial persons who are not members of the United Front or the Taliban; or
 Impartial persons, and persons who are members of the United Front and the
Taliban; or
Only those persons who are members of the United Front and the Taliban.
3. During the transitional period between the cease-fire and the formation of a
new government of Afghanistan, the transitional government shall exercise the
following powers:
Maintain the cease-fire, and oversee the process of peace and reconciliation
throughout Afghanistan.
Collect all the heavy weapons, and form the nucleus of a national army.
Administer the provinces, major cities, and districts in consultation and
cooperation with the influential and respected persons in those local areas.
4. The transitional government shall form an assembly (“shura”) representing all
the people of Afghanistan. The sole purpose of this assembly is to draft the
Constitution of Afghanistan (“Basic Law of Afghanistan”). The Constitution of
Afghanistan shall define the type of government that the people of Afghanistan
desire.
5. The transitional government shall form a Grand Assembly (“Loya Jirga”) to
approve the Constitution of Afghanistan. Upon approval, a new government shall
be formed in accordance with the constitution, and all national power shall be
transferred from the transitional government to the new Government of
Afghanistan.

WE SEEK THE SUCCESS OF THIS PEACE

PLAN FROM ALMIGHTY GOD
Signed by the following leaders of the United Front:

Said Mustafa Qasemi, Chief of Military Committee and Chief of

Foreign Relations, Wahadat-I-Islami (Akbari branch).
General Abdul-Rashid Dostum, Leader of the National Islamic
Movement of Afghanistan; Deputy to the President, Islamic State of
Afghanistan; High Commander of Northern Regions, Islamic State of
Afghanistan.
Mohammad Karim Khalili, Leader of Wahadat-I-Islami, Afghanistan.
Said Mohammad Ali Javid, Deputy Prime Minister, Islamic State of
Afghanistan; Chief of Central Committee, Harakat-I-Islami,
Afghanistan.
Aji Mohammad Mohaqaq, Minister of Home Affairs, Islamic State of
Afghanistan; Chief of Executive Council for Northern Regions,
Wahadat-IIslami, Afghanistan.
Aji Abdul Kadir, Chief of Council for the East Provinces of
Afghanistan.
Ahmad Shah Masud, Deputy to the President, Islamic State of
Afghanistan; Minister of Defense, Islamic State of Afghanistan.
Juma Khan Hamdard, Director of Military and Political Affairs,
Northern Regions, Isbi-Islami, Afghanistan.
Professor Burhamudin Rabbani, President of the Islamic State of
Afghanistan. (Signed into force, 9:30 a.m., April 19, 1998, at the
Office of the President, Mazar-e Sharif, Afghanistan.)

[This is an authorized English text. Roger L. Plunk,

mediator.]
 CONTRIBUTORS
Abdullah, Dr. Abdullah was born in Kabul in 1960. He became a medical doctor in
1983 and practiced as an eye specialist before joining the mujahideen of Ahmad
Shah Massoud in 1985 as the head of the Health Department in the Panjshir Valley.
From 1986 to 1992, he was an aide and adviser to Massoud, his close confidante.
From 1993 to 1996, he was general director of the Ministry of Defense. From 1996
to 2001, he was the spokesperson of the Islamic State of Afghanistan. In 1999, he
was named deputy of Foreign Affairs. In 2001, he was named minister of Foreign
Affairs. He is now working as the secretary general of the Massoud Foundation in
Kabul.

Amin, Farid is a realtor in Colorado who also writes, does research, and teaches
students from seventh grade to college level. For many years, he acted in Southern
California as unofficial representative of the Afghan Resistance against the Soviet
Union. He worked under Massoud in 1995—before joining the Foreign Office—and
was appointed Afghanistan’s chargé d’affaires to Austria, Hungary, Bosnia,
Slovakia, and the Czech Republic. In May of 1996, he became the permanent
representative to the United Nations in Vienna.

Amin, H. E. Haron was born in 1969 in Kabul. He fled Kabul after the Soviet
invasion of 1979 and eventually settled in California. He returned to Afghanistan in
1988 to fight for his country’s freedom under Commander Ahmad Shah Massoud.
Later, he was assigned to represent Afghan interests before the U.S. government, and
in 1995 joined the Foreign Service. Amin facilitated the 1997 campaign of
Ghafoorzai as the prime minister, serving as his chief of staff until the latter’s tragic
plane crash.
Amin received his master’s in political science from St. John’s University in New
York. He was instrumental in restoring bilateral relations between Afghanistan and
the U.S. in 2002. A former United Nations diplomat, Amin became known in world
media as the principal spokesperson for the anti-Taliban Coalition after 9/11 and is
currently Afghanistan’s ambassador to Japan.

Anas, Adbullah was born in Algeria and is presently working with a company called
P.A.TV as translator and consultant on a documentary called JIHAD: Men and
Ideas Behind Al-Qaeda. He served with Ahmad Shah Massoud as a mediator and as
representative of the Service Bureau. Anas was instrumental in presenting Massoud
to the Islamic world, especially after 1988 with his father-in-law, Abdullah Azzam.

Ayoobi, Eisa Khan Ayoob is a Fulbright Scholar at Stanford University where he

teaches Dari (Farsi). In 1999, when he was a young boy, Ayoobi joined a group of
students educated by Massoud on possible solutions to maintain peace and
human/women’s rights, and establish democracy in the country. He graduated from
the University of Kabul in 2002 with a bachelor’s degree in law and political science.
Prior to coming to the United States, he served as chief attorney for Afghan Wireless
Communication Company, executive general secretary for Ariana Television
Network, business development manager for Constellation Business Group Inc., and
was fortunate to work with the vice president of Afghanistan, Ahmad Zia Massoud,
from 2004 to 2005.

Barry, Professor Michael is chairman of the Department of Islamic Art,

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, and lecturer in the Department of Near
Eastern Studies at Princeton University.
During the 1980s and 1990s, he was in contact with Ahmad Shah Massoud as an
observer for the International Federation for Human Rights, Paris (1980–85), as
Afghanistan missions coordinator for Médecins du Monde (1985–89), and as
consultant and team leader for the U.N. Office for the Coordination of
Humanitarian Assistance to Afghanistan (1989–91). He coordinated international
food and medical relief for Kabul under siege in 1992–95. His frequent professional
contact with Massoud gradually became more personal, extending to spiritual and
artistic matters. From 1996 until Massoud’s death in 2001, Dr. Barry helped to
heighten awareness of Massoud’s cause in the European press and the European
Parliament.

Davis, Anthony is a photojournalist who has covered insurgencies and security

issues across much of Southeast, South, and Central Asia. During the 1980s and
1990s, he focused largely on the conflict in Afghanistan, spending several months
each year with mujahideen groups resisting Soviet and later Taliban forces.
Reporting for Asiaweek Magazine, the Washington Post, the Sydney Morning
Herald, and Time Magazine, he covered in particular the development of the Afghan
resistance movement led by Ahmad Shah Massoud, whom he first met in the
Panjshir Valley in 1981. Since 1988, he has been writing for various publications of
the Jane’s Information Group and is currently the Asia correspondent for Jane’s
Intelligence Review, working on issues of terrorism, insurgency, and transnational
organized crime in Southeast and South Asia. He lives in Bangkok, Thailand.

Deghati, Reza is an Iranian-born professional photographer who is now a French

citizen. He is founder and president of Aina World (with offices in Paris, Kabul, and
Washington, D.C.), a nonprofit organization for developing civil society and cultural
expression by empowering media and communication in Afghanistan. He was
awarded the title of chevalier de l’Ordre du Mérite, France’s highest award for
distinguished services in a public or private capacity, and recently received the
prestigious Missouri Honor Medal for Distinguished Service in Journalism from the
Missouri School of Journalism, University of Columbia.
Deghati came into contact with Ahmad Shah Massoud numerous times and was
his friend for fifteen years while working as a photographer for Time Magazine,
National Geographic, and Paris-Match and as director of humanitarian operations
for north Afghanistan for the United Nations (1984–2001).

Elmi, Sayed Hamed Mohammad was born in 1962 in Kabul. He received his B.S.
degree from Kabul University, worked in journalism for the mujahideen’s Afghan
Information Center, and later entered Boston University’s journalism program for
further training in the field. His reporting during the Afghan-Soviet War led to his
being awarded the title the Best Journalist During the War by Afghanistan’s Journal
Union. During the early 1990s, he reported for Afghanistan for Voice of America.
In 2003, Elmi was appointed to the office of spokesperson to the president of
Afghanistan and was later promoted to deputy spokesperson and head of
Communications. He became the principal spokesperson for President Karzai’s
campaign team for the country’s first free elections in 2004, and in 2005 was
appointed cultural attaché to Afghanistan’s Embassy in Washington, D.C., where he
presently resides.
 Elmi has authored five books and numerous articles on Afghanistan’s political
and military situations and cultural affairs.

Escobar, Pepe was born in Sao Paulo, Brazil, in 1954. He began his journalism
career in 1979 as a film critic. Escobar has been a foreign correspondent in London,
Milan, Paris, Los Angeles, and Asia (based in Singapore, then Bangkok) and has
worked for all major Brazilian newspapers and a few magazines. Since 2000, he has
been with Asia Times as a traveling correspondent, covering especially the Middle
East, Central Asia, and South Asia, and sometimes Southeast Asia, China, and
Europe.
Escobar has published two books in Brazil, and one in the U.S. (Globalistan,
2007) and was contributing editor in two other books, published in England and
Italy.

Eshaq, Engineer Mohammad was born in 1952 in the Panjshir Valley. He attended
the Afghan Institute of Technology (AIT) and the College of Engineering at Kabul
University where he joined the Islamic movement and met Ahmad Shah Massoud.
Eshaq joined Massoud in a failed uprising against President Daoud in 1975 and was
forced to flee the country for six years.
From 1983 to 1992, Engineer Eshaq represented Massoud in Peshawar where he
traveled to advocate the mujahideen’s cause. He testified before the U.S. Congress,
published many articles about the Afghan Resistance, and served as a political
adviser to Massoud. In 1992, he returned to Afghanistan as deputy minister of Civil
Aviation and published a fortnightly paper called Afghan News.
When the Taliban captured Kabul in 1996, Eshaq returned to the Panjshir and
helped publish Payam-e-Mujahid (Message of the Mujahid). From 2000 until the
end of 2001, he represented Massoud in Washington. In 2002, he became head of
Radio-Television of Afghanistan. He currently works for Payam-e-Mujahid Weekly
in Kabul.

Farzan, Ahmad Shah was born in Herat, Afghanistan, in 1953. He studied to

become a teacher at Kabul University but in 1979 was imprisoned by the communist
regime. After his release, he immigrated to Iran. In 1998, he became editor of the
magazine Myhan. During the spring of 1999, he interviewed Ahmad Shah Massoud
in Taloqan while on a journey in the province of Takhar. He has since authored a
number of books about Massoud (i.e. Mardeh Astowar and Egls Pamir) and
Afghanistan’s struggles (Afghanistan from Resistance to Victory and Afghanistan
from Davood to Ascen Sive Massoud).

Gall, Sandy is a writer and journalist based in England, who for many years was
foreign correspondent for ITN, co-presenting “News at Ten” for nearly twenty
years. He traveled several times to Afghanistan and particularly to the Panjshir
Valley during the 1980s to visit Massoud. He has written two books related to his
journeys through Afghanistan: Behind Russian Lines: An Afghan Journal and
Afghanistan: Agony of a Nation.

Girardet, Edward is a writer and journalist based in Cessy, France. He is also a

director of Crosslines Essential Media, a U.K.–based company, and program
director of the Media21 Global Journalism Network in Geneva.
He was a reporter for the Christian Science Monitor and MacNeil-Lehrer News
Hour when he first met Massoud in the summer of 1981 and on various other
occasions during the 1980s. As a reporter with French filmmaker Christophe de
Ponfilly and for his own magazine, Crosslines Global Report, he also spent time
with Massoud in Kabul during the turbulent 1990s.

Hachemi, Chekeba was born in Afghanistan and lived in exile in France during the
Soviet and Taliban wars. She founded the organization Afghanistan Libre in 1996.
In 1999, she traveled to the northeastern region of Afghanistan and worked with
Massoud until his death in 2001. In 2001, she was appointed one of the first Afghan
female diplomats in Brussels. She is now the minister counselor of the Afghan
Embassy in Paris and continues the projects in education and economic development
for women through her organization all around the country.

Haidar, Commander Gul joined the jihad in 1979 and fought beside Massoud until
his death in 2001, despite losing a leg to a land mine. He now serves in the Afghani
National Army.

Hayat, Colonel Ahmad Muslem is Afghanistan’s defense attaché in the United

Kingdom. He was born in 1963 in the Gardiz Paktia province of Afghanistan and
received his military training in Kabul, Pakistan, and through short-term military
courses in the French Army. Col. Hayat joined Massoud in the Resistance as a local
group commander in Bazarak, Panjshir; a guerrilla warfare trainer; and Central Elite
Group commander in the North Afghanistan Supervisory Council.
 Later, when the mujahideen took Kabul, Hayat became commander of the 315th
Battalion in the Ministry of Defense, then head of personal security for late Defense
Minister Massoud. From 1997 to 2000, he acted as a Massoud’s military attaché
assistant.

Hooke, Chris has been making documentary films since 1981. He first travelled to
the Panjshir Valley of Afghanistan with Tony Davis in 1984 for research, then
completed a fifty-minute documentary film in 1985 about the Afghan Resistance
and made several films about Afghanistan for BBC Panorama, Channel 4 (U.K.) and
Discovery over the next decade. Hooke was in Kabul interviewing Ahmad Shah
Massoud a month before the Taliban attacked and occupied the city. He is currently
photographing subjects in science, ethnography, and wildlife with the occasional
foray into politics.

Jamshid, Ahmad was a secretary of Massoud during the Resistance against the
Taliban. He is now studying economics in London.

Jennings, John wrote extensively on Afghanistan from 1987 to 1994 for the
Associated Press, The Economist, and other publications. He returned to journalism
in November 2001 to cover Afghanistan for the Washington Times and also worked
as a Dari interpreter for BBC television. He published his article “1992–96: The
Rabbani Government’s Twilight Struggle” in The Anatomy of Conflict: Afghanistan
and 9/11 by Anand Giridharadas, published by Lotus Collection, New Delhi, 2002.
He currently works as a medical assistant in the United States.

Junger, Sebastian is an American author (The Perfect Storm, A Death in Belmont,

Fire) and freelance journalist, who is a contributing writer to Vanity Fair Magazine
and an occasional contributor to ABC News.
Junger met Ahmad Shah Massoud while on assignment for National Geographic
Adventure Magazine (see March/April 2001 issue) and became one of the last
Western journalists to interview him in-depth. The last two chapters of his book,
Fire, deal extensively with Massoud. He learned that Massoud’s most powerful
belief was a country’s right to self-determination, saw in Afghanistan that the
meddling of outside powers in the country’s affairs was an extremely destructive
force, and now tends to see current events through that prism.

Kandahari, Abdul Hamid is an Afghan singer who toured in the United States.
Khalili, H. E. Masood was born in Kabul in 1947. He is the son of the renowned
Afghan poet Khalilullah Khalili. He is currently Afghanistan’s ambassador to
Turkey. In 1980, he joined the Resistance as a political adviser to Massoud in the
Jamiat-i-Islami Party, traveling between Afghanistan and Pakistan until 1989. He
was a special envoy to Pakistan from 1993 until 1995, when he was declared
persona non-grata. In 1996, he was named ambassador to India. Khalili was
seriously injured in the attack that claimed Massoud’s life, undergoing multiple
reconstructive surgeries.

Khan, Commander Bismillah was one of Ahmad Shah Massoud’s top commanders
during the Soviet and Taliban wars in the Shamali Plains north of Kabul. He is
currently a lieutenant general and serves as the joint chief of staff in the Afghan
National Army.

Mackenzie, Richard is a veteran war correspondent, producer, author, and analyst.

His work ranges from trekking with the Afghan mujahideen in their jihad against
the Soviet Union to the Iran-Iraq war and Desert Storm. Mackenzie’s critically
acclaimed film, Afghanistan Revealed, won a 2002 Emmy Award, a New York Film
Festivals medal, a CINE Golden Eagle, and other recognitions. He is the executive
producer of Mackenzie Productions.

Massoud, Ahmad Wali is Ahmad Shah’s youngest brother. After he finished his
schooling in Pakistan, he went to London in 1983 for further studies and got his
master’s in political science. He was Afghanistan’s ambassador to England from
1994 to 2006. He travelled back and forth from England to Afghanistan during the
Resistance. Currently, he is the president of the Massoud Foundation in Kabul.

Massoud, Ahmad Zia is Ahmad Shah’s younger brother. He served as Massoud’s

representative in Peshawar (Pakistan) from 1981 to 1992 during the Resistance.
Ahmad Zia was Afghanistan’s ambassador to Russia in Moscow from 2002 to
2004. Since 2004, he has served as the first vice president of Afghanistan.

Massoud, Maryam is one of Ahmad Shah’s sisters. She participated with other
women in the Resistance against the Soviet occupation. She is married and now lives
in the United States.

Massoud, Mohammad Yahya, Ahmad Shah’s older brother, was born in 1951. He
graduated from Naderia High School and studied veterinary sciences in Kabul
University. After the Communist Party seized power in 1978, he was arrested and
jailed by the communist regime. When the U.S.S.R. invaded Afghanistan in 1979,
Yahya joined the Afghan Resistance in the Panjshir Valley, working as a political
officer. In 1998, he was assigned the job of diplomat in Warsaw, Poland. He now
serves as a counselor in the Afghanistan Embassy in Brussels.

Masstan, Mehraboudin was born in the Panjshir Valley in 1964. In 1981, he began
as an interpreter to western NGOs and journalists. From 1983 to 1990, he studied
and worked in France while working hard to defend and support the Afghan cause.
From 1998 to 2002, Masstan served as the Afghan chargé d’affaires in Paris, with
non-resident postings to the European Union, Switzerland, Spain, and Portugal and
as the permanent delegate to UNESCO. He initiated and helped organize Massoud’s
summer 2001 trip to the French, Belgian, and European Parliaments. In 2002–04, he
served as interim director to the Afghan Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and from 2005
until November 2006 was counselor to the Embassy of Afghanistan in Ottawa.
Masstan is co-author of Massoud au Coeur (Editions du Rocher, September
2003), a portrait and biography of Ahmad Shah Massoud.

Mir, Daoud served as the Jamiat-i-Islami representative in France from 1987 to

1992 while working closely with Commander Massoud. In 1992, he became the
chargé d’affaires of the Afghan embassy in Paris until 1999. Then, he continued to
serve Massoud as a special envoy including to the United States. He now lives in
Canada.

Mir, Haroun served for more than five years as an aide to the late Ahmad Shah
Massoud. He has published analytical articles with international media such as
International Herald Tribune, The Hindu, Asia Times Online, and the Central Asia
Caucasus Institute, which is affiliated with Johns Hopkins University. Formerly, he
worked as a political analyst for SIG & Partners Afghanistan and the Middle East
policy analyst for the International Affairs Forum. Presently, he is cofounder and
deputy director for the Kabul-based Afghanistan’s Center for Research & Policy
Studies.

Momand, Diana left Afghanistan in 1980 and went to France, where she spent five
years and studied law and French literature for one year. Then she moved to
Germany, where she continued her studies and got married. She moved to the
United States in 1994.
Nagakura, Hiromi was born in 1952 in Kushiro, Hokkaido, Japan. In 1977, he
graduated from Doshisha University, Department of Law, and in 1982 joined Jiji
Press, photography section. As a freelance photojournalist, Nagakura reports on
conflicts in Africa, the Middle East, Central and South America, Southeast Asia, and
elsewhere. He has had dozens of special photo exhibitions and won numerous
awards for his images.
Nagakura’s relationship with Afghanistan began in 1975, when he spent over a
year living with its nomads. He first met Ahmad Shah Massoud in 1983 and
thereafter visited him many times in the Panjshir Valley, staying months at a stretch.
He has published three volumes of photographs and two books about Massoud. His
photo album, Massoud, the Beloved Land of Afghanistan, was awarded the Domon
Ken prize, the most prestigious award in Japan, and his photo exhibition on
Massoud in Tokyo drew more than 20,000 viewers. In 2002, Nagakura organized
an NGO, which assists a primary school in the Panjshir Valley in order to share the
dream of Massoud, who always spoke of the importance of education.

Noori, Sayed Ahmad Hamed was born in 1963 in Kabul. After earning his B.S. and
master’s degrees, he taught political science and rights at the Kabul University and
journalism at the National University of Tajikistan. In addition, for seven years he
was employed by Hewad Daily Newspaper, moving from reporter to department
manager to manager for international affairs. Later, he established and was editor-
in-chief of Cheragh, a monthly cultural and social journal. He has been an
announcer for social, political, and literal news, and programs for Afghanistan radio
and TV for over twenty years.

Omarzada, Ayoub was born in 1961 and spent sixteen years with Ahmad Shah
Massoud, from 1983 to 2000. He was a member of the mobile communications
central core, which traveled with Massoud from 1984 to 1988. Massoud
communicated with commanders from more than a dozen provinces on a daily
basis. From 1989 to 1993, he was the main communications director. From 1994 to
1998, he was appointed as the main finance and procurement officer at Massoud’s
main office. From 1998 to 1999, he continued his services as a member of
Massoud’s main or core office. Between 2000 and 2001 and while still a member of
Massoud’s main office, he was appointed as the main liaison in New Delhi to
oversee the medical treatment of Resistance fighters fighting Taliban/Al-Qaeda
forces. Between 2002 and 2005, he was the commercial counselor of the Afghan
Embassy in New Delhi. Since 2005, he has served as an official of the Afghan
Foreign Ministry.

Pedram, Abdul Latif was born in Badakhshan, Afghanistan, in 1963. He is a poet,

writer, journalist, and politician. First a supporter of the communist regime, he later
began to openly criticize and oppose the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. He
stayed in Afghanistan during most of the war years, moving around the country to
be able to pursue his activities. He was finally forced into exile by the advance of the
Taliban and their policies of ethnic and linguistic segregation. He is the co-founder
and head of the Afghanistan National Congress Party and ran for president in the
October 2004 elections.

Plunk, Roger L. (LL.M., George Washington University) is currently working as an

international facilitator/mediator, primarily among governments. For seven months
in 1997 and 1998, Plunk was in Afghanistan mediating between the warring
factions as an independent, nongovernment mediator by invitation of both the
Taliban and the United Front. During this period, he negotiated an agreement
among nine elements of the United Front on a policy for reconciliation with the
Taliban. The agreement reflected Ahmad Shah Massoud’s policies and was used to
clarify the position of the United Front to the Taliban and the international
community. He is the author of The Wandering Peacemaker.
On behalf of Massoud, Mr. Plunk communicated to the U.S. State Department
that if the U.S. would back him, he would rid Afghanistan of terrorists (particularly
Osama bin Laden) and drug production. The U.S. rejected the offer.

Puig, Jean-José is a computer system consultant (database architecture, networking,

etc.) in matters of organization management for private and public entities. He met
Ahmad Shah Massoud on a mission for French Foreign Affairs, Centre d’Analyse et
de Prévision (Forecasting and Analysis Center), befriended him, visited often, and
saw him for the last time at a private meeting when he came to Paris in April of
2001. As a result of Massoud’s situation, Puig came to appreciate the distinction
between Western countries’ offers of sympathy (which were common) and providing
actual support, which the Afghans desperately needed. He is the author of La Pêche
à la Truite en Afghanistan.

Qaderi, Sher Dil was born in the Panjshir Valley. At age thirteen, he joined Ahmad
Shah Massoud’s first training group and fought alongside Massoud until the mid-
1980s when asked by Massoud to work for him in Peshawar, Pakistan. Qaderi
worked as transport director and head of the Chitral Medical Clinic for Freedom
Medicine, an American NGO.
After the Soviet retreat from Afghanistan, Qaderi and his wife moved to America,
where he studied English and became a restaurateur. He and his wife returned to
Afghanistan in 2001 to help reconstruct the country. He is currently managing
partner of the Cabul Coffeehouse and president of Five Lions, a logistics firm in
Kabul.

Qanooni, Yunnus joined Massoud in 1982. Since then, he has held several positions
in the civil administration of the mujahideen in Afghanistan and Pakistan. From
1992 to 1996, he served as defense minister and in other capacities. During the
Resistance against the Taliban (1996–2001), he worked as the head of civil
administration of Massoud’s organization and his political envoy to the United
Nations. After the fall of the Taliban, he was named interior minister and later
minister of Education. He was one of the presidential candidates against Karzai.
Then, he was elected a member of the lower house of the Parliament in Kabul and
the Speaker of the House.

Registani, Salih was born in 1963 in the Panjshir Valley. In 1980, he joined
Massoud as a mujahideen in the Resistance against the Soviet occupation. He was
chief of the operation office from 1985 until 1997. From 1997 to 2000, he was
Massoud’s representative in Tajikistan and from 2000 to 2004, in Russia. He is
currently a member of the Afghan Parliament.

Rahmani, Fawad is an Afghan man who supported the Resistance and who now
lives in the United States.

Shajahan, Aref was a member of the Hazara party Harakat-e-Islami during the
1980s and was in Ghazni, where he was a commander and the only medical doctor
in a small clinic in that area who treated Pashtuns, Hazaras, and Tajiks. During the
1990s, he was a member of the coalition government, as an assistant to Defense
Minister Ahmad Shah Massoud. During the Taliban’s rule, he returned to Ghazni
where he was again a commander and a medical doctor. He currently lives in the
United States.

Shuaib, Mohammad has been living in the United States with his family since 1989
and works independently as an air conditioning/refrigeration technician.
 During the years of the Resistance to the Soviets, he worked in the political office
of Jamiat-i-Islami Afghanistan, based in Peshawar, Pakistan. Shuaib was the press
liaison (giving the news from Afghanistan to the media and sending foreign media
crews inside Afghanistan to cover the war). His most valuable contribution was in
giving Massoud’s news and messages to the world media, but he was also able to
help introduce Massoud to the world as an effective commander and to send foreign
journalists and aid workers to cover the war and thereby help Afghanistan.

Sidiq, Dr. Mohammad has been for the last two years president of the High Council
for Press and Culture in the Afghan Ministry of Information and Culture, as well as
coordinator of an independent high commision for media and communication in
Afghanistan sponsored by UNESCO.
He last met Ahmad Shah Massoud while working as head of Radio Nawa-e-
Afghan and commentator on Afghan affairs, representing the mujahideen’s point of
view and covering developments in Afghan strongholds. Dr. Sidiq joined Massoud’s
struggle to establish a free Afghanistan and help guide people toward democracy
and unity, and has written many essays reflecting Massoud’s ideas in a private daily
called Arman e Mili. He remains hopeful that his nation will achieve freedom,
dignity, and prosperity.

Surgers, Pilar-Hélène is a French journalist, architect, and photographer. She helped

the Afghan Resistance and met Massoud in 1999. She created an independent NGO,
Liberte en Afghanistan, to help the Afghan people and to lobby for the Afghan cause
in France. She co-wrote Massoud au Coeur with Mehraboudin Masstan, published
by Editions du Rocher, in 2003.

Tandar, Humayun was born in Kabul in 1956 and attended basic schooling there
before obtaining a master’s in archaeology at La Sorbonne (Paris) in 1982. Later, he
earned specialized degrees in international relations at the International Institute for
Public Administration (Paris) and in political science at the University of Geneva.
From 1980 to 1990, Tandar served as chief representative of the Afghan
Resistance in France and as the personal representative of Ahmad Shah Massoud.
He served the mujahideen government as minister, counselor, and chargé d’affaires
for the Embassy of Afghanistan in Paris (1992–93) and subsequently was minister,
counselor, and chargé d’affaires for the permanent mission of Afghanistan to the
U.N. in Geneva (1995–2002).
 In 2001, Mr. Tandar was a member of the delegation accompanying Massoud
during his trip to Europe at the invitation of the president of the European
Parliament. And in 2002, he was part of the United Front delegation to Rome to
seek a political solution to the war in Afghanistan, and to the Bonn negotiations on
Afghanistan, under the aegis of the U.N. Tandar was a signatory of the Bonn
Agreement. Subsequently, he served as head of the Afghanistan Mission for the
European Communities and ambassador of Afghanistan in Belgium. He currently
serves as Afghan ambassador to the European Union.

Zafari, Abdul Wadood has privately helped the Afghan Resistance by sending
contributions and writing hundreds of reports regarding the Resistance movement.
In 1996, Zafari joined a Northern California committee to raise money and find
sponsors for hundreds of families who, forced from their homes in the north of
Kabul by the Taliban, took refuge in the Panjshir Valley under Massoud’s
protection. In two years, the group collected $200,000 and received Massoud’s
personal thanks. At Massoud’s 2001 request, he translated a 350-page book, The
Taliban, Islam, Oil and New Great Game in Central Asia. He now lives in the
United States and writes and translates articles about Afghanistan for Omaid
Weekly, a Persian-language newpaper.

Zikria, H. E. Farid was an Afghan living in exile in the United States during the war
against the Soviet Union and the Taliban. He visited and spent time with Massoud
during the 1990s. During the first years of Karzai’s government, he worked as
protocol chief in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He is currently the Afghan
Ambassador to the United Arab Emirates.

Zikria, Madina is Farid Zikria’s niece and has lived in exile in the United States.

Zikria, Suraya is Farid Zikria’s sister-in-law and has lived in exile in the United
States.

Zulali, Daoud served as a soldier and later as the commander of the First Central
Unit in the Resistance against the Soviets under the leadership of Commander
Massoud. He currently lives and works in Colorado with his family.
 GLOSSARY
Afghanistan: A 249,984-square-mile, landlocked country in southwestern Asia
bordered by Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, China, and Pakistan.
Ahmad Shah Massoud: A member of the clandestine anti-Soviet militants opposed
to President Daoud, who gained power as the result of a military coup with a covert
role played by prominent communists (1973–1975). To avoid identification and
arrest, members of the anti-Soviet group adopted surnames. Massoud took his name
during this period. Some of the meanings of it are “successful, lucky, prosperous,
and happy.” When the Soviets invaded Afghanistan in 1979, he led the Resistance in
the northeastern area of the Panjshir until the Soviets left in 1988 and the pro-Soviet
government collapsed in 1991. He served President Burhanuddin Rabbani as defense
minister of Afghanistan from 1992 to 1993. After Rabbani’s government collapsed,
the Taliban rose to power. Massoud fought against the Taliban as the military
leader of the United Islamic Front for the Salvation of Afghanistan. Massoud was
assassinated by alleged Al-Qaeda agents on September 9, 2001. He was named
“National Hero” by Hamid Karzai, Afghanistan’s president, the following year. The
day of his death is now known as Massoud Day and is observed as a national
holiday in Afghanistan.
Al-Ghazali, Mohammmad: See, Ghazali.
Al-Qaeda (al-Qaeda): Means “the base.” Originally Osama bin Laden’s base of
operations in southern Afghanistan. Now the name is used to refer to members of
bin Laden’s groups, considered to be terrorist by the United States and other
countries throughout the world, and to the organization as a whole. Also, Al-Qaida,
Al-Qa’ida, Al-Qa’idah.
Amer Saheb: Amer (a derivative of Amir in Islamic doctrine) means “leader” in
Islam, and Amer Saheb means respected leader. A person devoted to God and at the
service of his people. His followers often referred to Massoud by this honorific title.
Amu Darya: The third largest Afghan river, approximately 1,500 miles (2,400 km)
in length; 800 miles are navigable. The main part of the river is called the Panj
River. It separates Afghanistan from part of Turkmenistan and forms the border
with Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. The ancient Greeks called the river the “Oxus”; the
name is often still in use in English. Also, Amu Daria.
Andarab: A valley and river located in the southern part of the Baghlan Province in
northeastern Afghanistan, adjacent to Panjshir Province.
Ansari, Kwaja Abdullah (of Herat) (1006–1088): A Sufi Master known both as
“Shekh-ul-Mashaekh” and “Shaikhul-Islam.” He was a poet and renowned
interpreter of the Qur’an. His poems are in the form of a soul’s monologue with
God. Ansari’s significant works include Kashf al-Asrar (the lengthiest Sufi
interpretation of the Qur’an) and Tabaquat al-Sufiyya (a collection of biographies of
Arab Sufis). He lived in seclusion for the last twelve years of his life.
(El-)Arabi, Ibn: Mohiudin ibn el-Arabi was known as Sheikh el-Akbar, meaning the
“Greatest Sheikh” amongst the Arabs. He was known as “Doctor Maximus” in the
West. Born in Murcia, Spain, in 1164, he lived during the Middle Ages. He was
renowned as a Sufi and philosopher, and for his poetry. Also, Al-Arabi.
Arakam, Karim: An Ismaeli who was a good friend of Massoud.
Aref, Engineer Mohammad: The head of Massoud’s intelligence unit. He was out of
his office in Khoja Bahauddin when Massoud’s assassination took place.
Assalam Alaikum: “Peace be upon you,” or “Peace be with you.” It is a standard
greeting among Muslims.
Attar, Farid Ud-Din (1150–1229/30): A Sufi Master and poet born near Nishapur,
in present-day Iran. He wrote 114 books. Two of his best-known works are the
Parliament of the Birds and Memorials of the Saints. His works use fables, maxims,
and illustrative biographies and other literary forms to teach. His works are also
thought to “help maintain the social fabric and ethical standards of Islam,”
according to commentator Idries Shah. He was killed by barbarians accompanying
Gengis Khan during their invasion of Persia.
Badakhshan: One of the provinces in northeast Afghanistan where lapis lazuli is
mined. Faizabad is its capital and a major town.
Bagram: An ancient Greek city north of Kabul in Parwan Province. In the 1950s, it
became a military township. Also spelled Begram.
Bhagavan: A Hindu term usually meaning the Supreme Being or Absolute Truth
with the added dimension of a “personality” possessed by the Supreme Being.
Bamyan Buddhas: Stone buddhas 180 meters high, carved in the second century into
cliffs in the Bamyan Valley of Afghanistan. They were deliberately destroyed by
Taliban shelling in 2001. Also, Bamiyan.
Basmachis: A Russian expression for the Basmachi Revolt in Central Asia. During
World War II, areas in Central Asia within Soviet Russia began a drawn-out civil
war against Russia and Soviet rule.
Bazarak: The village in eastern Afghanistan where Ahmad Shah Massoud was born
in 1953. It is the capital of Panjshir Province. Also, Badharak.
Bedil, Abdul Qadir: A Persian poet and Sufi born in 1642 in an area of Kabul
Province called Khwaja Rawash. Bedil lived and died in Delhi in 1720. His ghazals
(a poetic form made up of rhyming couplets and a refrain) are still recited in
Afghanistan. His poetry is said to have several levels of meaning, and it figures into
Afghan classical music.
Beh’babani, Simin: An Iranian poet nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in
1997. She was Iran’s national poet.
Bin Laden, Osama: A Saudi-born leader labeled a terrorist by the United States and
other countries throughout the world. He came to Afghanistan in 1979 and
established training camps in the country to fight the Soviets. He organized and is
the presumed leader of the international terrorist group called Al-Qaeda.
Central Asia: Generally comprises Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan,
Kirguizistán, and Kazakhstan. Afghanistan and Mongolia may also be included in
addition to Inner Mangolia, Xinjiang, Qinghai, and Tibet.
Chador or Chadar: A traditional long veil worn by Muslim women, supposedly to
cover the head up to the chest. It could be any color, but mainly is black or drab-
colored. A form of Chadar is also worn by some Hindu women.
Che Guevara: Ernesto “Che” Guevara, a prominent figure in the Cuban Revolution
(1956–59) that brought Fidel Castro to power. Guevara was known for his
command of guerrilla theory and tactics. Born in Argentina in 1928, he later led a
guerrilla war and was killed in Bolivia in 1967.
Churchill, Sir Winston (1874–1965): British statesman and author, he was England’s
prime minister during much of World War II (1940–45) and again from 1951 to
1955. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1953.
Daoud, Mohammad (Sardar Mohammad Daoud Khan): First president of the
Republic of Afghanistan after taking power as leader of a coup d’etat that ousted his
cousin Zahir Shah, the king. He was believed to have set the stage for communist
rule of Afghanistan because communists played a fundamental role in his coup
d’etat less than four years earlier. He served as president from 1973 to 1978. He was
killed in the coup that overthrew his government. Also Daud, Dawood, Daood, or
Dawud.
Dari: Old form of the Persian language, similar to Farsi, spoken in Afghanistan.
Dasht-i-Riwat: A town near the northeast end of the Panjshir Valley near which
most emerald mining is done. Also, Dasht-i-Rewat
Dashti, Fahim: An Afghan journalist and photographer, his Ariana Films focused on
the exploits of Massoud and his troops. He was seriously injured in the explosion
that assassinated Massoud. Later Dashti became editor of the Kabul Weekly.
Dostum, General Abdul Rashid: Ex-communist Uzbek militia commander and
leader of the Afghan Uzbek militia with a reputation in Afghanistan for brutality.
He changed alliances during the rule of the Rabbani government, with different
militias including Hekmatyar’s. During the early day of the war against the Taliban,
Dostum made Mazar-e-Sharif—a city of around two million people—his center of
operations. He joined the United Front by mid-1996, but he was forced out of
power in Mazar-e-Sharif in 1997 and was mostly out of the country, in Turkey and
Uzbekistan, until the beginning of 2001.
Durand Line: The dividing line by which Britain in 1893 defined the border
separating Afghanistan from what was then British India. It split the Pashtun tribal
area between the two countries; its existence and exact location disputed by many
Afghans.
Fahim, Mohammad Qasim: A well-known Afghani military commander and
politician. He served as one of Massoud’s military deputies and worked as the head
of intelligence. After Massoud’s assassination, Fahim became the defense minister of
the United Front. He served as Hamid Karzai’s defense minister in the Afghan
Transitional Administration and went on to serve as Karzai’s vice president.
Farsi: The Persian language spoken in Iran, Tajikistan, and Afghanistan.
(Al-) Ghazali, Mohammmad (1058–1111): A Muslim philosopher, theologian,
jurist, and Sufi Master. Born in Khorasan, Persia, present-day Iran, and known in
the West as Algazel. His most famous published work is The Alchemy of Happiness
(Kimiya’e Saadat). Having pointed out the problems of conditioning on the human
mind eight hundred years before Pavlov, he called the human habit of confusing
opinion with knowledge, which was rampant even in his own day, an epidemic
disease.
Guevara, Che: See, Che Guevara.
Hadith: The recorded sayings of the Prophet Mohammad; one of two chief legal
sources of Islam. The other is the Qur’an.
Hafiz (Shams ud-Din Muhammad-i-Hafiz): A fourteenth-century poet and Sufi
Master, little is known of his life. He lived in Persia (present-day Iran) in the city of
Shiraz for most of his life. He is thought to have written 5,000 poems, of which
perhaps 600 have survived. In the 1800s, Hafiz’s work became known in the West
through the translations of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Also, Hafez.
Haq, Abdul: A Pashtun from a prominent family and commander in the Resistance
against both Soviets and the Taliban. Hekmatyar and Dostum invited Arab
extremists to join the Afghan fight against the Soviets, but Haq was opposed to this.
When American coalition airstrikes started in 2001, he slipped back into
Afghanistan with the help of the CIA to organize Pashtun resistance against the
Taliban but was captured by the Taliban and hanged.
Hasan of Basra: Born 642 at Medina. An Islamic scholar and theologian, Hasan
became a teacher and founded a school in Basra (in present-day Iraq). Known for his
asceticism.
Hazara: A people of Mongolian-Persian mixture said to be the descendants of
thirteenth-century Mongol invaders of Afghanistan; they live mainly in central
Afghanistan and practice a sect of Shiia Islam.
Hekmatyar, Gulbuddin (Born 1947): A Pashtun and vehement anti-Western
Islamist, he broke with Rabbani to form and lead the Hezb-i-Islami Party. Although
he was commander of one of the seven mujahideen groups headquartered in
Peshawar during resistance to the Soviets, he often attacked other mujahideen. He
refused to join the Rabbani government in Kabul, besieging the city from outside
and killing thousands of civilians with indiscriminate shelling instead. He was
supported by Pakistan in this effort, but lost its backing to the Taliban in the early
1990s when he failed to gain control of Kabul. When the capital fell to the Taliban
in 1996, Hekmatyar fled to Iran. In 2001, during the American coalition attacks, he
urged Afghans to side with the Taliban against the West. Hekmatyar has actively
opposed the government of President Hamid Karzai.
Hezb-i-Islami: Literally, the “Islamic Party.” A mostly Pashtun Afghan party
founded and led by Gulbuddin Hekmatyar.
Hindu Kush: A mountain range of Northeastern Afghanistan, Northern Pakistan,
and Tajikistan. The highest elevation is Tirich Mir at 25,229 ft.
Imam: When written in lower case, it refers to the leader of congregational prayers.
Imam is also used by many Sunni Muslims to mean the leader of the Islamic
community. Among Shia Muslims the word has many complex meanings.
Inshallah: “God willing,” or “May it please God.” Also written: “In sha’allah,
Ensha’Allah.”
Iqbal, Mohammad: India-born (1877–1938) Muslim. He was one of the first to
propose a separate Muslim state for Indian Muslims. He was a politician,
philosopher, and poet. His Persian and Urdu poetry is held in high regard. He also
wrote works on political and religious philosophy in Islam. He is also known as
Allama Iqbal. His work helped lead to the founding of Pakistan.
Islam: The monotheistic religion founded by Mohammad, the Prophet of Islam,
while the Qur’an, The Book of God, was revealed to him during the last twenty-
three years of his life. Islam has nearly 2 billion adherents worldwide and is
practiced in countries in North Africa and the Near and Middle East and in Central
Asia. Islam requires the worship of God (Allah) alone. Islam is an Arabic word with
many meanings, including peace, loyalty, and submission to the will of God (Allah).
There are two main schools of Islam: the Shia or Shiites and the Sunnis, although
some Muslims follow Islam in several other forms.
Islamabad: The capital city of Pakistan.
ISI: The Interservice Intelligence, Pakistan’s agency for intelligence and covert action.
It supported Hezb-i-Islami, and later the Taliban.
Ismailiis: Sometimes called Maulais, a sect of Islam. The original Ismailii people are
believed to have come from Persia.
Jabul-Saraj: A village north of Kabul where Ahmad Shah Massoud maintained a
command post until 1996. Previously the center of a textile industry. Also, Jabal us
Siraj, Jabal-os-Saraj, Jabal Al-Siraj.
Jamiat-i-Islami: “The Islamic Group.” A political party founded and led by
Burhanuddin Rabbani with the support of Ahmad Shah Massoud’s forces after its
first uprising in Panjshir Valley (1975). The majority of its membership is Tajik and
other ethnic minorities. Sometimes referred to as Jamiat or Jami.
Jami, Maulana: Born (1414–1492) in Herat, a province in present-day Afghanistan.
A poet and Sufi Master, considered one of the last in the line of classical Persian
poets. Two of his better-known works are the Baharistan, and a collection of
biographies of Sufi saints called the Zephyrs of Intimacy.

Jammat: The joining together of Muslims for prayer.

Jangalak: A village near Astana in the Panjshir valley. It was a stronghold of Ahmad
Shah Massoud. His home was there, and he chose it for his burial place. Today, a
shrine marks the location. Also, Jungalak.
Jihad: To strive, struggle, resist, fight against, and try to do your best as an article of
faith. One of the main tenets of Islam; derived from the Arabic word Jahd, which
means to endeavor and observe patience in the face of persecution. Also, Jehad,
Jahad, Jihadi. In the West the word has come to mean “holy war,” but that is
looked on as a mis-translation by many in the East. However, Islamic commentators
also state that fighting or going to war for the sake of God can often be called a kind
of Jihad.
Jihadi: Literally, anyone engaged in jihad. This would include the young, usually
Arab fighters who went to Afghanistan and joined the resistance fighting against the
Soviet occupation and the Afghan communists. Many of the Afghan fighters referred
to these men as “Arab fighters” or “Arab mujahideen” rather than Jihadis, although
referring to the sense of the word above, all fighters joined the jihad against the
Soviet Union. At present, the term is commonly used in the West to describe all
young men of Middle Eastern descent who join and fight for Islamic fundamentalist
groups.
Jirga: Council.
Kabul: The capital of Afghanistan and the name of the province in which it is
located. Its population in 2000 was estimated at 1.5 million.
Kalashnikov: The AK-47 assault rifle. Designed and named after the Russian
Mikhail Kalashnikov. Originally manufactured in Russia and used by Russian and
the Russian-controlled European Eastern Bloc armies during the Cold War.
Proliferation of this weapon is now worldwide.
Kandahar: A city in the south of Afghanistan, in the Pashtun area.
Karmal, Babrak: The head of the Parcham Party. Exiled to Russia in July 1978 but
returned with Soviet troops in 1979. He became president of the Revolutionary
Council from January 1980 to May 1986, when Dr. Najibullah took over control.
Karte Parwan: a section in the south of the city of Kabul. Massoud’s family lived
there during Massoud’s youth.
Karzai, Hamid: The current (2008) president of Afghanistan. Karzai served as
Afghanistan’s deputy foreign minister in the Burhanuddin Rabbani government. He
lived in Pakistan during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan in the 1980s. He was
elected in 2002 to serve as president during a two-year transitional period after the
defeat of the Taliban and elected as president again in a national election in 2004.
Kashmir: Formerly, a state located on Pakistan’s northern border whose sovereignty
was disputed by India and Pakistan.
KHAD: The Afghanistan State Intelligence Service during communist rule of the
country. It was reputed to control a thousand operatives and informers, as well as
the National Guard and other fighting units.
Khalili, Karim: A mujahideen and head of Hezb-e Wahdat-e Islami (the Islamic
Unity Party), a Shi’ite political party. Khalili halted the activities of the party and
dissolved its anti-Taliban military branch when the Karzai interim government
began. He served as vice president of the country under the Transitional
Government, and became second vice president of the Islamic Republic of
Afghanistan on December 7, 2004.
(Ustad) Khalilullah Khalili (1908–1987): Contemporary Sufi poet laureate of
Afghanistan, known for his classical themes and traditional style.
Khan: Title of respect and honor, used for tribal chiefs, land proprietors, heads of
communities, and the like.
Khan, General Bismillah: He is an ethnic Tajik from the Panjshir Valley and is
currently chief of staff of the National Army of Afghanistan. He fought at the side of
Ahmad Shah Massoud from the earliest years and became deputy minister of defense
for the United Front under Massoud. After the 2002 fall of the Taliban, he became
chief of military security for Kabul.
Khan, Ismail: The current minister of water and energy in Afghanistan. He served as
an officer in the Afghan army during the communist rule in Afghanistan. He
defected after the Soviet invasion. He led a revolt against the Soviets in the western
city of Herat. He commanded military forces in western Afghanistan until the
Taliban drove him out of Herat in 1995. On his return, he was jailed by the Taliban.
After the Taliban’s fall in 2002, he was appointed the governor of Herat.
Khan, Sardar Mohammed Daoud: President of Afghanistan (1972–1978). See
Daoud.
Khoja Bahauddin: The Panjshir village in which Massoud’s assassination took place.
Koran: See Qu’ran.
Lapis lazuli: A deep blue mineral, mainly lazurite, used as a gem or pigment. Lapis
lazuli is mined in Afghanistan.
Laumonier-Ickx, Dr. Laurence: French woman physician who served as doctor to
the mujahideen in the Panjshir Valley early in the Resistance effort against the
Soviets.
Loya jirga: A Pashtun term for “grand council.”
Madrassa: Islamic religious school; a school or college associated with a mosque at
which young men study Islamic theology.
Mao Zedong: Chairman of the People’s Republic of China, 1949–59; chairman of
the Chinese Communist Party, 1943–76. Also Mao Tse Tung.
Mashallah: An expression used by Muslims that reflects joy and the appreciation of
receiving or hearing good news. Is translated as “Allah has willed it,” or “What
Allah wills.” It is usually said after a person announces the good news.
Massoud, Ahmad: Son of Ahmad Shah Massoud.
Mazar-i-Sharif: City in the northern part of Afghanistan.
Mecca: City in Saudi Arabia, considered the holiest place in Islam because it was the
birthplace of the Prophet Mohammad and is the site where the holy Kaaba is
located. As part of their religious observances, all Muslims are enjoined to make a
pilgrimage to Mecca and the Kaaba during their lives, if possible.
Médecins du Monde (Doctors of the World): A Non-Governmental Organization
(NGO) created in France by one of the founders of Médecins Sans Frontières
(Doctors Without Borders).
Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders): A nonprofit organization
founded in France that provides doctors and medical assistance in crisis and war
zones.
Mohammad: The Prophet of Islam was born in Mecca (Saudi Arabia) in 570 C.E. A
merchant renowned for his honesty, Mohammad began receiving the verses of the
Qu’ran at age forty and continued to receive them for the next twenty-three years.
Mohammad began teaching in 610 C.E., proclaiming that “God is One” and
complete surrender to the will of God. He acknowledged that he was a prophet and
messenger of God, just as Abraham, Moses, and Jesus were God’s prophets and
messengers. Because his teachings directly challenged the idol worshipping beliefs of
the Arabs, he and his followers were forced to flee Mecca for Medica on threat of
death. Yet by Mohammad’s death in 632 C.E., the Arab tribes had accepted Islam as
their religion and recognized Mohammad as Islam’s prophet. Also, Muhammad,
Mohammed.
Mujaddedi, Sibghatullah: Head of the Jabha-i-Najat-i-Milli Afghanistan
(Afghanistan National Liberation Front). He is an ethnic Pashtun and was named as
Afghanistan’s interim president in 1992 for three months preceding Burhanuddin
Rabbani’s assumption of the office. In the Karzai government, he leads the
independent reconciliation commission for peace in Afghanistan and also chairs the
upper house of parliament.
Mujahideen (singular, mujahed): Literally, “those engaged in jihad”; those who
strive in the way of God, champions of liberty; and Muslim holy warriors. Those
who take part in jihad against oppressors and aggression as an act of faith.
Specifically those who fought with the Afghan resistance against the Soviet
occupation and the communist government it installed in 1979. Also mujahedin,
mudschahedin, mudschaheddin, mudschahidin, mujahidin, “muj.”
Mullah: A commonly used term for traditional Islamic leaders. A literalist teacher of
religion in the maddrassas. Also, mulla.
Mullah Omar: The ethnic Pashtun Afghan leader of the Taliban. He fought against
both the communist government in Afghanistan and against the Soviets. He is a
native of Kandahar.
Mushaaera: A traditional recreational activity of Persian-speakers involving
competition in the players’ knowledge of classic Persian poetry.
Muslim: A follower of Islam, Mohammad’s faith. Also, Moslem.
Najibullah, Mohammad: Originally Najib, he was a Pashtun born in Kabul and a
student leader of PDPA who served as director general of KHAD (Afghan
Intelligence) from 1980 to November 1985. Took power in Afghanistan in a
bloodless coup against Babrak Karmal to become the last president of the Soviet-
backed Afghan regime, 1987–1992. Najibullah was tortured and shot by the
Taliban when they entered Kabul in 1996.
Naqshband, Bahauddin: Lived in Central Asia; founded the Naqshbandi order of
Sufism. Studied under the teacher Baba el-Samasi. The Naqshbandi Sufis are known
as the “Designers” or “Masters of the Design.” Through his teachings, Bahaudin
Naqshband is said to have “returned to Sufism’s original principles and practices,”
according to Sufi commentator Idries Shah. Naqshbandi Sufis are said to work
within the culture they find themselves in and do not draw attention to themselves.
Naqshband died in 1389.
Northern Alliance: See United Front.
Nuristan: A northeastern province of Afghanistan lying along the Pakistani border.
Was known as Kafiristan (meaning “land of the non-Islamic” or “unbelievers”) in
ancient times. In 1896, the light (nur) was brought to the region. The word means
“Haven of Light” or “Land of the Enlightened.” One of the most remote and
poorest districts in Afghanistan, it was a place of heavy fighting during the Soviet
invasion.
Omarzada, Ayoub: Secretary of telecommunications, spent sixteen years with
Massoud.
Oxus River: The ancient Greek name for Amu Darya, a river flowing on
Afghanistan’s northern border. It separates Afghanistan from part of Tajikistan and
forms the border with Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, formerly the Soviet Union. See
Amu Darya.
Pakul: A traditional hat or cap worn by Afghan men and favored by Massoud.
Panjshir: Literally Five Lions, a region of valleys in northeastern Afghanistan
populated by Persian speakers. The mouth of the main valley is located about
seventy miles north of Kabul. It served as the base of operations for Ahmad Shah
Massoud and the United Front (Northern Alliance). The name is said by various
sources to refer to the five large rivers that join in the valley and/or to five spiritual
brothers who acted as its “protectors.” Also Panjsher.
Paryan: A village at the northeastern end of Afghanistan’s Panjshir Valley.
Pashto: The Indo-Iranian language spoken by Pashtuns.
Pashtun: The largest tribal group in Afghanistan and Northwestern Pakistan, they
have traditionally dominated the politics of Afghanistan. Also, Pathan, Pakhtuns,
Pushtoon, Pashtoon, Paktoon.
Pattu: A rectangle of woven cloth used as a shawl, carrying sling, or blanket by
Afghans.
PDPA: People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan. The principal Soviet-oriented
communist organization founded in 1965. Babrak Karmal was one of its principal
leaders.
Persian: Used to refer to race, language, culture, and nationality. The Persian
language is called Persis by Greeks and Fars by Arabs.
Peshawar: A large city in northwestern Pakistan on the border of Afghanistan.
Pir: A religious leader. Title given to heads of Sufi orders. Also an old man.
Qadir, Abdul: An Algerian leader who fought the French invasion of his country in
the name of Islam from 1832 to1847. (Not to be confused with the present-day
Afghan of the same name who was former governor of Nangarhar.) Also, Abd-al-
Qadir.
Qadir, Haji: A Pashtun member of the United Front organized by Massoud. Also,
Qadeer.
Qanooni, Yunnus: Close aide to Ahmad Shah Massoud who was chosen to deliver
his funeral oration. Qanooni was the co-defense minister for the Rabbani
government. In 2001, Qanooni led several official missions to Europe for discussions
with important overseas Afghans about the future government of the country and
was active in securing the Bonn Agreement.
Qarargah: A military outpost or camp.
Qu’ran: The Muslim holy book. The Prophet Mohammad began receiving the verses
of the Qur’an at age forty and continued receiving them for the next twenty-three
years. The verses were compiled after the Prophet’s death. Muslims consider the
Qur’an to be the word of God as revealed to the Prophet. Also spelled Koran in the
West.
Rabbani, Burhanuddin: A Tajik born in 1940 in Badakhshan. He taught theology at
Kabul University before entering politics. An early leader of the Islamist Movement,
in 1972 he founded Jamiat-i-Islami. Rabbani was the second acting president of the
Islamic State of Afghanistan (ISA) from March 1993 until the U.S.–supported
Hamid Karzai regime was established in 2001. He and his government were forced
to leave Kabul by the Taliban in 1996.
Rahman, Dr. Abdul: A physician who joined Massoud’s mujahideen with Dr.
Abdullah and rose to become his second-in-command in the Panjshir. He later was
named minister for aviation and tourism in the Karzai interim government but was
killed in mysterious circumstances at Kabul Airport in 2002.
Ram: Any of the three avatars of Vishnu in Hindu religion.
Ramadan: The ninth month of the Islamic calendar during which Muslims abstain
from food and water from dawn to sunset and focus on closeness to God.
Rohrabacher, Dana: U.S. congressman from California who spent time with
Massoud in Afghanistan.
Rokha: One of the main Panjshir villages. Also, Rukha, Rukka.
Rumi, Maulana Jalaluddin: An Afghan-born Sufi Master and poet of great stature
who lived and taught in Asia Minor, present-day Turkey. His greatest and best-
known work is the Mathnavi-i-Maanavi (Couplets of Inner Meaning). His Persian
poetry has been translated into many languages and has had considerable influence
in the West, both historically and in the present day. He died in 1273.
Saadi of Shiraz (1184–1291): A Sufi Master and poet whose verses form the basis of
much of traditional Afghan ethics. He wrote the Gulistan (Rose Garden) and Bustan
(Orchard), two classics of Persian literature, and contributed to European literature
through his writings which gave substance to the Gesta Romanorum from which
many Western legends and allegories were derived. Also, Sa’adi, Sa’di.
Salang: The name of a major tunnel north of Kabul linking northern and southern
Afghanistan.
Saricha: The location near Jangalak chosen by Massoud for his gravesite.
Sayyaf, Abdul Rasul: A professor of Islamist studies at Kabul University, Sayyaf was
a founder with Rabbani of the Islamist Movement. He fought Soviet occupying
forces in Afghanistan during the 1980s with financing by the Wahhabi of Saudi
Arabia. During the mujahideen coalition government, he was deputy to Rabbani.
Sartre, Jean-Paul: French philosopher, playwright, and novelist. Sartre was a leading
exponent of twentieth-century existentialism—a ninteenth-, twentieth-century
philosophy that believed philosophy should begin with the human subject.
Shah, King Zahir: King of Afghanistan until overthrown in a 1973 coup d’etat. See
Zahir Shah, Muhammad.
Shalwar-kamese: Knee-length shirt, worn tail out, and baggy trousers with a
drawstring to keep them up. Traditional everyday dress for Afghan males. Also,
shalwar-kameez, shalwar kamiz.
Shamali Plains: An agricultural area northwest of Kabul that was controlled by the
United Front. One of the regions most affected by the war between the Afghanistan
government and the Taliban, and best known for the “massacre” perpetrated there
in 1996 by Taliban troops and foreign fighters who accompanied them. Also,
Shemali.
Shia: Literally “partisan” or follower of the Prophet Mohammad’s cousin and son-
in-law Ali, after the death of the Prophet. One fifth of Afghans (mostly Hazara) are
Shia. Also, Shiite.
Shura: Council. Also, shoraa.
Shura-e-Nezar: Literally, controlling council. The council made up of Resistance
leaders from all parts of Afghanistan, formed by Ahmad Shah Massoud in 1984 to
support the common goal of an Afghanistan free of Soviet domination. Also Shoraa-
e-Nazar.
Sufism: A mystical philosophy often associated with Islam but is available since the
dawn of humanity. The teaching is present as much in the West as it is in the East.
Sufism was often in conflict with Islamic orthodoxy because it seeks the personal
experience of union with God.
Suhrawardi, Shihabuddin Yahya: Born in 1154 in Suhravard (in present-day
northwestern Iran). Suhrawardi was a philosopher, Sufi Master, and founder of the
School of Illumination—considered an important school in Islamic philosophy. He is
often referred to as the “Master of Illumination” (Shaykh al-Ishraq). Scholars are
unclear why Suhrawardi was executed in 1191, but his killing may have been the
result of perceived religious blasphemy.
Tajik: People of Persian descent living in Afghanistan and Tajikistan. They are the
second largest ethnic group in Afghanistan and are mostly Sunni Muslims (except
for the mountain Tajiks who are Ismailiis). Massoud was a Tajik. Also, Tadjik,
Tadzhik.
Tajikistan: A country that borders Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgistan, and China
and was previously part of the Soviet bloc.
Tajuddin: Ahmad Shah Massoud’s friend, father-in-law, and a top mujahideen
officer. Called Kaka or Koko Tajuddin. Also, Tadjeddin.
Takhar: A province in northeastern Afghanistan of which Taloqan is the capital.
Taliban (singular talib): Originally, an Islamic religious student or a seeker of
knowledge. The term is now applied, especially in the West, to the group of militant
Islamic extremists who controlled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001 and were
expelled by Afghan forces supported by an international coalition. They are trying
to re-conquer Afghanistan by military and terrorist means. Also, Taleb.
Talkhan: Edible powder made from dried mulberries. A staple food for the
mujahideen in Panjshir.
Taloqan: The capital of Takhar Province and the location of one of Massoud’s
bases. Also, Taluqan, Taliqan.
Tasbi: A string of ninety-nine beads representing the ninety-nine most beautiful
names of Allah; used by Muslims in prayer.
Tashakor: “Thank you” in the Dari language. Also, Tashakur.
Teher: Oil pressed from mustard seeds.
United Front: The political and military alliance of all anti-Taliban groups, led by
Commander Ahmad Shah Massoud before his death. Also called the United Islamic
Front for the Salvation of Afghanistan, National United Front; often called Northern
Alliance by the Western media.
Uzbek: Inhabitant of Uzbekistan or the area of northern Afghanistan near its border
with Uzbekistan. A Mongol tribe and the largest Turkic-language group in
Afghanistan, but an ethnic minority. Also, Uzbak.
Uzbekistan: The Republic of Uzbekistan, formerly a part of the Soviet Union. This
land-locked Central Asian country shares a short 150 km border with Afghanistan.
Wahhabism: A contemporary reform movement started by Muhammad Ibn Abdul-
Wahhab in Saudi Arabia that has found a home in that country, Qatar, Kuwait, and
other places throughout the Islamic world. Mislabeled as an Islamic sect in the West.
Abdul-Wahhab pointed out corruption in the practices and beliefs among some
Muslims who put other persons or objects above God (Allah). Abdul-Wahhab
resisted such corruption, preached against it and advocated that other Muslims resist
too. A “Wahhabi” is one who points out similar “tainted” beliefs by other Muslims.
The term is often used amongst Shia Muslims. Sometimes spelled Wahabism.
Wuzu: The process of ablution by washing, which Muslims are required to
undertake before prayer. Also Wurdhu.

Zaher, Ahmad: An Afghan singer known during the 1980s as “the Elvis Presley of
Kabul.” He died in an automobile accident in Afghanistan. When his body was
recovered it was found that he had been shot in the head. The lyrics of many of his
later songs had been critical of the government.
Zahir Shah, Muhammad: Son of Muhammad Nadir Shah and king of Afghanistan
(1933–2007). He reigned for four decades (1933–1973) until he was ousted in a
coup. He lived in exile in Rome until returning to Kabul in 2002. He was given the
title “Father of the Nation” in 2002, which he held until his death.
Some definitions in this glossary first appeared in Gary W. Bowersox, The Gem
Hunter (Honolulu: GeoVision, Inc. 2004).
 REFERENCES
Balcerowicz, Piotr. “Taliban Lacks Support from the Afghan People.” Omaid
Weekly, no. 496 (October 22, 2001).
Barry, Michael. “Thoughts on Commander Massoud,” given at the Afghan Embassy
in London on September 9, 2003. Reprinted in Omaid Weekly 12, nos. 595–96.
Bowersox, Gary. The Gem Hunter. Honolulu: Geovision, Inc., 2004.
Colombani, Marie-Françoise, with Chekeba Hachemi. “A Meeting with Mme.
Massoud.” Elle no. 2906 (September 10, 2001), translated by M.E. Clarkson,
November 2001.
Elliot, Jason. An Unexpected Light: Travels in Afghanistan. London: Picador, 1999.
Escobar, Pepe. “Masoud: From Warrior to Statesman.” Asia Times Online Ltd.
www.atimes.com, September 12, 2001.
Gall, Sandy. Afghanistan: Agony of a Nation. London: Bodley Head, 1988.
———. Behind Russian Lines: An Afghan Journal. London: Sidgwick & Jackson,
1983.
Girardet, Edward, quoted in D. L. Parsell. “Afghanistan Reporter Looks Back on
Two Decades of Change.” National Geographic News (November 19, 2001),
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Gross, Nasrine. “Massoud: An Afghan Life.” October 28, 2001,
http://www.kabultec.org/MASSOUD.html.
Hachemi, Chekeba, and Marie-Françoise Colombani. Pour L’amour de Massoud.
Paris: XO Editions, 2005.
Interview with Ahmad Shah Massoud with journalists and “Women on the Road to
Afghanistan” Conference, 2000. Azadi Afghan Radio, http://www.afghan-
web.com/documents/int-masood.html.
Junger, Sebastian. Fire. New York: Harper Collins, 2002.
———. “Massoud’s Last Conquest.” Vanity Fair no. 498 (2002).
———. “Requiem for a Warrior.” National Geographic Adventure 3, no. 6
(September/October 2001).
Massoud, Ahmad Shah. “Excerpt from the Diary of Ahmad Shah Massoud.”
Translated by personnel of the Afghan Embassy, London.
Mehran, Farzana. Ahmad Shah Massoud: A Biography. http://www.afgha.com,
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National Geographic Society. Into the Forbidden Zone. Washington, D.C.: National
Geographic Society, 2001.
Plunk, Roger. “Breakfast with Massoud.” The Source, December 1, 2001,
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Plunk, Roger. The Wandering Peacemaker. Charlottesville, Va.: Hampton Roads
Publisher, 2000.
Rohrabacher, Dana. “Challenge Facing America.” Delivered before the U.S.
Congress on September 17, 2001,
http://s3.amazonaws.com/911timeline/2001/rohrabacher091701.html.
Terzieff, Juliette. “Pilgrimage Honors Slain Afghan Hero: Massood’s Shrine
Thronged a Year After His Death,” www.SFGate.com, September 8, 2002.
Wiltz, Teresa. “The Lion’s Tracks: Northern Alliance Commander’s Assassins Killed
the Man, but His Memory Lives On.” The Washington Post, April 5, 2002.
*Pepe Escobar, “Masoud: From Warrior to Statesman,” Asia Times Online Ltd.
(www.atimes.com), posted September 12, 2001.
*Although Ahmad Shah Massoud insisted on identifying all citizens of his country
simply as Afghans, ethnic differences did exist, and foreign interests exaggerated and
manipulated them to prevent Afghan unity.
For the reader’s information, the largest group, the Pashtuns, generally live in
the southern and eastern parts of Afghanistan and speak the Pashtu language. The
second largest is the Tajiks, a non-tribal group. Most Tajiks live in the north and the
west, and their language is Dari (Persian). Other ethnic groups include the Hazaras
(in central Afghanistan), the Uzbeks (in the northwest), and the Baluchis, Turkmen,
Aimaqs, Niristanis, and Arabs. Most Afghans speak either Pashtu or Dari, but as
many as forty different languages and dialects are also spoken in the country.
Massoud was born of Tajik heritage.
*“A copy of a letter Massoud wrote to the people of the U.S. is reprinted as
Appendix A in the back of this book.
*A complete copy of the Declaration can be found in Appendix B.