In the heart of Kunduz Province, a once-proud black horse named “Amada”—Dari for “Ready”—symbolized hope and resilience for its owner, Ali Reza. For Reza, a 55-year-old former Buzkashi player, Amada was more than just a companion; he was his partner in the game that is the soul of Afghanistan. But as artillery shells rained down on Kunduz, Reza was forced to make an excruciating choice: to leave behind everything he loved in pursuit of peace.
“It is not a forgettable memory, even after 40 years,” he said, choking back tears. “I left for peace.” He won many, though not all, of his games with Amada. “The horse was looking at me, and calling me in peace,” Reza recalled, his voice thick with emotion.
Afghanistan, a nation torn apart by more than four decades of conflict and unrest, has seen its geopolitical status used as a battleground for various powers, from the Soviet Union’s invasion in the late 1970s to the more recent U.S.-led coalition’s presence. The cost of these wars has been paid in Afghan blood and tears, as Reza painfully noted. His final departure from Kabul Afghanistan on August 16, 2021, coincided with the fall of Kabul to the Taliban.
At the time, Reza was working for a humanitarian organization that supported war orphans in four major provinces. “Our animals, trees, and stones need peace,” he said, his words conveying a deep sense of loss and longing. “I realized the extreme pain when I left my black horse. Those who are playing proxy wars, please put yourself in our shoes for a while.”
Reza’s memories return to the day the Soviets invaded Afghanistan, to the day he stood at Hamid Karzai International Airport, prepared to leave his homeland forever—or at least for an unknown period. “It was like Doomsday,” he said, describing the chaotic scenes at the airport, where desperate teenagers clung to the sides of departing aircraft, only to fall to their deaths. “What a dramatic shame for the end of democracy,” he lamented, reflecting on the gloomy outcome of two decades of international intervention in his country.
Despite having built a new life in the West, Reza remains haunted by his past and dreams of returning to rebuild his ancestral home, which has been in ruins for years. “Even though I have built my own life in the West,” he told his children, “I’m going to build our ancestral home, which has been in ruins for years. I want to heal countless orphans, clear up their tears, and facilitate their education for a brilliant future.”
The Price of Decades of Conflict
For consecutive years, armed conflict in Afghanistan has been at an all-time high, with the country experiencing civil war, foreign invasions, proxy wars, and countless other hardships. These conflicts, which escalated after 1992 as various armed groups fought for control of Kabul, have shattered the hopes and expectations of Afghanistan’s young and future generations.
“The war has left deep scars on our society,” said Mohammad Khalid, a former advisor at Afghanistan’s High Peace Council for peacebuilding projects. Khalid has spent years engaging with media outlets in this war-torn country and believes that it will take many more years to spread peace journalism among the Afghan nation. “Peace journalism and reporting should focus on peace rather than hatred,” he emphasized. “Media outlets, often funded by intelligence agencies, are dependent on continuing war journalism, which is harmful to third-world countries.”
Khalid added that despite years of efforts to reduce violence, the international community’s priorities remain skewed. “If you look, big powers in the world spend countless amounts of money on weapons, selling or buying. What they do is kill human beings and continue the destruction to sell out their weapons,” he said. “In our time, human beings are not peaceful,” he observed, noting the significant gap in peace journalism. “In the West, ordinary people walk their dogs in green parks on weekends. I can’t do that. There’s a lack of security. My baby is hungry and crying,” he continued, contrasting the peace enjoyed in Western countries with the constant fear and insecurity in Afghanistan.
“As humans, don’t we want peace for everyone on this planet?” Khalid asked, his frustration palpable. “Still, this question is unanswered: Are we still not civilized?” He argued that if people desire security in cities like New York, London, and Paris, they should also include Kabul in their prayers. “Peace is a nightmare for many of us, generation after generation. Our ancestors are gone without seeing a peaceful Afghanistan. One day, I hope to see it, but my biggest wish is that my four daughters can go to school in peace,” he said, expressing a dream that remains elusive for many Afghans.
The Legacy of Conflict: A Nation’s Uncertain Future
The legacy of conflict in Afghanistan is not just one of destruction; it is a story of resilience and survival. People like Ali Reza and Mohammad Khalid represent the enduring hope that, despite the decades of war, there can be a future where Afghanistan is at peace. However, this hope is continually tested by the harsh realities on the ground.
“The wars have taken everything from us,” Reza said, reflecting on the countless lives lost, homes destroyed, and dreams shattered. “But they haven’t taken our will to survive and rebuild.” He remains committed to returning to Afghanistan, not just to rebuild his own home, but to help others who have been affected by the wars. “I want to be a part of the healing process for my country,” he said, his voice full of determination.
Khalid, too, remains hopeful that peace journalism can play a role in bringing about change in Afghanistan. “We need to change the narrative,” he said. “We need to focus on stories that promote peace and reconciliation rather than violence and hatred.” He believes that if the media can shift its focus, it can help to create a culture of peace in Afghanistan. “It’s a long road ahead,” he acknowledged, “but it’s a road we must travel if we want a better future for our children.”
The future of Afghanistan remains uncertain. The Taliban’s return to power has brought with it a new set of challenges, including the potential for further future conflict and instability. Yet, for people like Reza and Khalid, there is still a glimmer of hope that peace can be achieved.
“We’ve been through so much,” Reza said, his voice tinged with exhaustion but also with a quiet resolve. “But we can’t give up. We owe it to the next generation to keep fighting for peace.” For him, the memory of his beloved black horse, Amada, and the life he once had in Kunduz are constant reminders of what has been lost—and what could still be regained.
Khalid shares this sentiment. “We can’t let the sacrifices of the past be in vain,” he said. “We have to keep working for peace, even when it seems impossible.” He knows that the road ahead will be difficult, but he is committed to doing his part to create a better future for Afghanistan.
Like the majority of Afghans, both men believe that the key to Afghanistan’s future lies in its ability to move beyond the cycle of violence and toward a culture of peace. “It’s not going to be easy,” Reza said, “but it’s the only way forward.”
As they continue to navigate their new lives in the West, Reza and Khalid remain deeply connected to their homeland. Their stories embody the resilience of the Afghan people and their relentless pursuit of a brighter, more hopeful future. “We may be far from home,” Khalid said, “but our hearts are still in Afghanistan.”
For them, and for countless others, the dream of a peaceful Afghanistan remains a goal worth striving for—even if it takes a lifetime to achieve.
The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect Wesal TV’s editorial policy.
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