Excerpt from my Journal: Phase 1, Operation Allies welcome

Kites dancing above the tent village.

We had spent nearly a week working alongside Afghan guests to color kites that we were preparing to fly just outside the tent village. After a week of snowfall, the weather was perfect. While it felt like the first glimmer of Spring, we all shed layers we would have used to bundle up at the start of Fall. Gathering on the gravel, the kids danced with anticipation to receive the kite they would fly. Within minutes, 60 kites were launched into the air, and everyone was navigating webs of kite string. The creativity of the community was only magnified by their canvases dancing 100 feet above across a bright blue sky that served as the gallery for their work. I stood with a shy little boy, no more than 5 years old, as we fought to get his kite in the air. Me, knowing very little Dari or Pashto, and him, little English, we couldn’t speak to each other. But somehow, that didn’t seem to matter. We would occasionally exchange smiles and laugh with embarrassment as we accidentally crashed our kite into the backs of DOD staff and other onlookers. The wind was such an equalizer as children and adults alike made effort to get their kites off the ground. I couldn’t help but think about how the flight patterns, like so much of their journey and future, are completely out of their control. As I watched kites scribbled with the American and Afghan flag soar, I couldn’t help but grin, soaking in the sunshine and the Afghan music playing in the background. It was joyful to watch kids be kids and doing something that is far more a part of Afghan culture than American culture. I realized I was witnessing something so simple yet unimaginable at the time the Taliban took over. I wondered if there was power or healing as children reclaimed a little piece of their childhood.

“There are a lot of children in Afghanistan, but little childhood.”
― Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner