With the lanterns on and the company of my family the dark gloomy basement wasnÃÂt as scary as it was to me before. On the contrary it was the outside world that was scary now. The capital was under siege. As I later found out Kabul had become the battle field of the cold war between then USSR and USA each supporting their allies and supplying them with funds and ammunition that they mercilessly poured on the innocent people and anything that moved. Nothing could get away from their preying eyes from their hill top positions in the mountains that encompassed the once prosperous city.
I was five years old then, the resistance forces who called themselves the freedom fighters declared war against the communist government and promised to free the people back in 1991- the year I was born. Ever since there were always confrontations between both sides in remote rural areas but never this close to home.
It was one of my usual care free days as I was strolling in the garden utterly excited by the first drizzles of snow when I heard screams of panic. I do not remember who it was but someone grabbed me and took me towards the basement. For an instance I thought it was some kind of punishment for something naughty I had done.
Confused and afraid I was kicking and screaming with the top of my lungs. It wasnÃÂt long before I was silenced by the rumble and terrible noise of a missile that hit our neighborÃÂs house. Later I found out it was a Stinger missile, courtesy of CIA and PakistanÃÂs notorious ISI. The house was reduced to a heap of rubble; none of them survived.
It amuses me when I remember the only worry I had in...