The Crow

On the moor there was a very old old ruin.
Perched upon one of the broken, ivy-clad walls surrounded by large, moss covered stones was a crow.  As he considered himself Lord of the Ruin, he would arrogantly strut about keeping a beady eye on things, and cawing raucously from time to time.

Most small animals were terrified of him. He had a very bad reputation.

When they saw his shadow following the curves of the grassy moors, they shivered with fright. Soaring darkly overhead, he seemed to enjoy causing them so much fear.

The crow was in his element when the weather was dull, wet and miserable. And if he sometimes enjoyed basking in the sun, he pretended he didn't. He revelled in rainstorms and loved sleety snow. He found it very good to roll in on misty days.

But one day during the autumn season, there was a terrible storm of such might that even the crow, delighted at first, soon became uncertain. And when he was whisked up without warning by a force that whirled him round and round as if he were nothing but a speck of dust, he was terrified.

High up into the dark sky he was swept, and like a poor spider in draining water, he had no control whatsoever over his destiny.

When at last the whirling wind grew bored, the crow was dumped in a hawthorn bush.

After the storm had passed the crow was very shaken. He tried to straighten out his feathers, but he didn't feel up to it at all. He flapped his wings a little, without much effect. He even believed he was no longer able to fly, and was very worried indeed.

It was late in the day. The last of the dark clouds had thinned out into dark crimson ribbons reflecting the last embers of the setting sun.

The crow wanted to get back to his ruin before dark. He made a few clumsy attempts to fly, but only managed to go short distances.
Had he been a sensible crow, he would have stayed the night in the hawthorn, then he wouldn't have attracted the attention of the fox.

The crow cursed once more as it desperately flapped to get off the ground, whilst the fox decided how best it should approach the bird to avoid its nasty beak.

When at last the crow caught sight of the fox, he became so alarmed that he painfully managed to take off and even gain height.
The fox felt cheated, but he followed the crow's flight still hoping that he wouldn't be able to reach the walls of the ruin.

The crow was exhausted when he finally succeeded.
It was almost nightfall. The fox circled the ruins then sat below the wall grinning up at the poor bird.

The crow was too tired to do anything. He ached all over, and the eyes of the fox staring up made him tremble. He passed a horribly uncomfortable night.

The next day was calm.
The sun rose behind a thin veil of cloud. The crow welcomed its warmth.

The fox had given up and gone home.  At last the crow felt he could rest.

As he slept he had a curious dream. He dreamt that he was hungry and the sun advised him to follow the rainbow. It would lead him, assured the sun, to where there was everything he could possibly want. So the crow followed the rainbow.
But as he did so, his dishevelled, murky feathers became sleek and pure white.

Where the rainbow shone down there was a beautiful garden. And there indeed was all the crow could ever wish for.

*

The crow shook himself and ruffled his black feathers. He felt utterly humiliated.  He had quite forgotten his dream.

He arranged his feathers and flexed his wings. It was late in the morning. He was beginning to feel quite peckish.

As he opened his wings he notice a little vole just beneath him, searching about in the short grass between the big, grey stones.
Very gently the crow then closed his wings, and without moving or making the slightest sound, he allowed the little animal to continue its quest in peace.

From the Rainbow Series

The illustration of the 'Croquemort Crow' is one of 'the animal series', some of which were published in two children's books, whilst others were first published as cards with 'doggerel' poems. By using this illustration, which wasn't done for 'the Rainbow story series, I am therefore 'killing two birds with one stone'- so to speak- for it also allows me to add the poem which goes with this particular illustration.

The Croque-mort Crow (Dirge)

In the ash-tree
Perched the Crow
Cawing baleful
Tales of woe

Undertaking
Deeds of sorrow,
Here today
And gone tomorrow

'Windswept weeds
With crape for widows,
Sackcloth, ashes,
Weeping willows.

Bleak and murky
Dismal drizzle,
Black and doleful
Dreary grizzle.

(Beneath the ash-tree
Now lies the Crow,
To rest in peace
Whilst daisies grow).
 

*
 

Nel frassino
Posò il Corvo
Gracidando
Scuro racconto.
 

Intraprendendo
Atti spiacenti
Qui oggi-
Domani partiti
 

Vestiti nel vento
Veli per vedove,
Sacchi e ceneri,
Salice piangente.
 

Tetro e tenebroso,
Triste pioggia.
Grigio e nebbioso,
Cupa malinconia.
 

(Al piè del frassino
Ora giace il Corvo.
Che riposi in pace
Mentre pratoline crescono).
 

*

Dans le frêne
Se trouva le corbeau
Coassant ses sinistres
Contes de bourreaux

Entreprenant
Actes de chagrin,
Ici aujourd'hui,
Parti demain.

Vêtements de deuil,
Crêpe noir des veuves
Le sac et les cendres
Malheureuse épreuves.

Morne et ténébreux
Triste bruine,
Gris et misérable
Désolant ruine.

(Alors que maintenant
Se trouve le corbeau
Au pied du frêne
En profond repos).
 

__

A mourn, distainful cry
Muffled by the snow
Falling from the sky
Uttered by the crow.

The witches' avenger,
Harbinger of storms,
The devil's messenger,
Death in all its forms.

Languidly he flies
Cawing his refrain,
Casting cruel eyes
 On the shrouded plain.

The witches' avenger,
Harbinger of storms,
The devil's messenger,
Death in all its forms.

Who ventures in such skies 
Scorning the sleet and snow,
Making such evil cries?
The devil, he would know.
__
 
  Text  and images © Mirino (PW) August, 2010 

Una mosca nella minestra

In principle all religions accept that there is only one God, although each cult would naturally address God in their own way, as each national language translates the word 'God' its own way. There should therefore be no essential reason why God cannot be worshipped by people of different religions in one particular place of worship, or anywhere, for that matter.

Architecturally the requirement would be that the Basilicacathedralmosquesynagoguetemple (in alphabetic and not hierarchic order, nb) is appropriately situated, large enough, has the required facilities discreetly arranged for all religions, and is beautiful enough (a wonderfully inspired marriage of religious architectural styles to accord with all known cults) to command supreme international esteem and respect.
(The above joint name is really an incomplete abbreviation for all the religions of the world, which when united might read as : 'Baha'ibuddhismchristianityconfucianismdruidismhinduismislamjainismshintosikhismtaoismwiccazoroastrianism'.

Such a worthy project, the House of God for the whole of humanity, would be fairly financed by all concerned, naturally including the Vatican.

Should any leading religious authority reject such an idea however, this would indicate a requirement for exclusivity that might also suggest a lack tolerance towards other religions.

If the President of the USA wishes to generously demonstrate that U.S. democracy fully accepts the freedom of religion by allowing one particular cult to build a mosque near where 3,000 innocent people were massacred by Muslim fanatics, surely his idea would be more coherent if the terms stipulated that the religions of all the 11/9 victims, if not of all the world, should also be represented.

Thus the Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Anglicans, Protestants, Orthodox, Catholics, Lutherans, etc., etc., should certainly not be excluded.

The ground space required for so many places of worship for only one God would, however, be enormous. Far greater than was originally allotted for the Twin Towers.

The solution, therefore, would be the Basilicacathedralmosquesynagoguetemple for the united religions- 'Baha'ibuddhismchristianityconfucianismdruidismhinduismislamjainismshintosikhismtaoismwiccazoroastrianism', assuming, and it would be reasonable to assume, that all the world's religions only believe in one God.

If the 'moderate' worshippers of God rejected this solution, they would essentially be rejecting the very principle that the President of the USA is advocating for the nation he represents, ie- freedom of religion and tolerance of the religion of others.

Thus if those who wish to build a mosque near Ground Zero would reject the idea of allowing other religions to be represented in the same sacred precinct, then surely they would forfeit their right to obtain the necessary authorisation. Such exclusivity in such a sensitive and controversial area would be unacceptable. Should this be the case, indeed it could be interpreted as an insult, not only to all the victims and to all those who were actively engaged in trying to save them from the atrocious consequences of the WTC attack, but an insult to democracy, religion and humanity.

 ____

 Italiano 

                                                       

Text and modified image © Mirino (PW). August 2010

Venetian reflections

In any season the luminosity of Venice is unique, and the famous city awakens long before most of its tourists.

If there are a few Venetians who seem to resent the tourism that essentially sustains them, would it not be precisely because of that?
After all, Venice was once an Empire, the independent ruler of Mediterranean maritime trade, and the supreme point of commence between the Occident and the Orient.

In the 9th century, when Venice was still subject to Byzantine dominance, the first basilica was built, also as a sanctuary for the relics of St. Mark brought back from Alexandra by two Venetian sailors. To avoid them from being discovered by Muslims, they were hidden in the carcass of a salted pig.

Venice was too far away from Constantinople to remain permanently under Byzantine rule. It gained its independence in the 10th century. The winged Lion of St. Mark became its symbol, depicted on the red and gold flags proudly flying from Venetian ships, all over and even beyond the Mediterranean sea.


Venice was perfectly able to defend its interests against its enemies which at times included the Pontifical forces. Perhaps Venice was then considered a direct rival to the Papal institution.
The famous debt towards the Doge Enrico Dandolo (1110-1205) which had such drastic and shameful consequences, was already referred to in 'The Venetian lesson'.

At a time when in Europe, hereditary, monarchial absolutism reigned- with Papal benediction, the Venetian political system, first established as early as the 7th century (697) was surprisingly advanced, and to a considerable extent democratic. The proof of its stability is the fact that its lasted ten centuries, without problems or revolutions.

The Doge (derived from Dux, military leader, Duke) of whom there reigned a successive total of 120, represented the figure head of the highest Venetian authority. Originally each Doge was elected for life by an assembly of powerful Venetian families, but later the responsibility was assumed by a committee of forty people chosen by four members of the Great council. The power of the Doge however, was limited and closely controlled by the Venetian institutions. The most powerful of these was 'the Council of ten' established in 1310.

Thus advantaged by a stable system, rich from ever increasing trade revenues, and militarily powerful, Venice became one of the most famous, opulent and beautiful cities in the world, certainly of the Middle Ages.
The splendid palaces of eminent families still grace the Grande Canale, and each architectural marvel of Venice such as the gothic magnificence of the C'a d'Oro has its own bitter sweet history.

The splendour reflected in the art and architecture, the latter of which not only the walls were built on massive, wooden piles, but the entire surfaces of such edifices are supported by them. Naturally this enormous accomplishment necessitated importing huge amounts of wood, from even as far as the Alpine forests. Dikes were also needed to control the water level. They were constructed with wood and reinforced with stone.

The city even established its own system of social welfare. 'Le Scuole Veneziane' which organised the admittance of immigrant workers, offered medical assistance to the poor, took care of orphans and illegitimate children, and helped the young who merited such aid.

Apart from bull bating and 'friendly fist fighting'  (on the Ponte dei Pugni), Venice was then also renowned for its culture. With the Byzantine heritage it had become a prestigious, intellectual centre. One would go to Venice to study Greek, philosophy, law, medicine, chemistry, astrology and cartography.

The 'New World' discoveries, including those of Marco Polo, were to change the tide of events. Venice was also to fall victim to the progress of other European nations. Portugal (1498), followed by other countries, no longer needed to rely on Venice. Their ships were by then able to brave the Cape of Good Hope to reach the Orient for their silks and spices.

But the final 'coup de grace' was not only caused by the continual expansion of the Ottoman Empire (Constantinople had been taken over by the Ottomans in 1453). It was due to the conquests of Napoléon Bonaparte who gave Venice to Austria in 1797 before annexing it to the Empire in 1805. (Napoléon also confiscated the 'Quadriga Trionfale' -the four Greco-Roman horses from Constantiople on the facade of St Mark's Basilica- to embellish the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, but they were returned to Venice in 1815).


Yet if it were inevitable that 'la Repubblica Serenissimo' would lose its impressive power, monopoly and independence, its art and architecture continue to enchant us, as if in superb defiance.
This seems part of the essential nature of the Venetians, who never cease to celebrate their identity, their culture, their legendary liberty, their art and their glorious past.

This is evident in the Carnival of Venice itself. A romantic can easily imagine some of the sublimely, costumed participants as beautiful fantoms of Venetian history. Apart from justifiable pride and nostalgia, they seem to mask any other sentiment, as they present themselves majestically in la Piazza San Marco.

 It's interesting and amusing to note that when asked whether they consider themselves first Italian or Venetian, many Venetians will reply without any hesitation: 'Venetian'.
This, in a way, would seem to sum it all up.

___

The remaining part of a 9th century mosaic from la Chiesa di San Zaccaria.

  ___

 Text and images  © Mirino (PW). Sources Hachette and Wikipedia, with grateful thanks. August 2010 

See also Venezia 

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Once upon a time..

Après les contines avec les 'Happy endings', (fins heureuses) nous revenons de nouveau à la 'réalité'. Mais cette réalité semble parfois plus folle que les rêves les plus incroyables ou cauchemardesques.
Comment est-il possible que nous soyons en train d'arriver là de nouveau? Est ce que c'est ainsi inévitable que l'espèce humaine engendre les êtres aussi fous de vouloir courtiser de temps à autre le diable? Car prétendre le contraire, prétendre que l'on est véhiculé par Dieu lui-même pour purger le monde de ce qu'un trop plein de folie et de vanité estime être l'essence même du mal, n'est que de la mégalomanie diabolique. La vieille, récurrente, prétention Luciferesque.

En regardant autour de nous aujourd'hui, combien de Churchills, combien de héros existeraient-ils? Tout est un peu flou, mais c'est probable qu'il y en a. Ils se sont déjà manifestés ici et là. Certains discours aussi remarquables que courageux les font valoir d'ailleurs, et ils ne viennent pas du côté Occidental ni Oriental, du moins pas encore. Mais les héros de demain attendent dans les coulisses, certains découragés par des circonstances imprévues et assez imposantes, ou agressés par des oppositions qui à défaut d'avoir des arguments politiques valables, se déprécient toujours en utilisant des tactiques de diffamation. La facilité à court terme des médiocres. D'autres sont fatigués de l'opinion mondiale aussi myope, naïve ou simplement stupide, ou toujours trop facilement influencée, sinon carrément préjugée.

Mais ce scénario n'est-il pas l'épitomé de l'histoire de la civilisation? N'est-il pas une répétition inlassable, presentée de manière toujours variée, de la défense de la liberté d'humanité?
Et en somme cette histoire extraordinaire, n'est elle pas un conte épique incroyable? N'est-elle pas quand même une séquence des événements souvent fondés sur le même thème, qui malgré la traversée des horreurs inoubliables, atroces, infernales et impardonnables, aboutit finalement et malgré tout à un autre jour plus heureux?

Parmi la montagne des livres qui refletent cette verité avec une perception ironique, on pense aux œuvres de Chaucer, de Dante, de Shakespeare, de Molière, aux œuvres de Dostoyevsky, ou à celles de Victor Hugo et à celles de 'reforme sociale' de la même époque de Dickens. On pense à 'La Source Vivre ('The Fountain Head') de Ayn Rand, au 'Le Seigneur des Anneaux' ('Lord of the Rings') de Tolkein, et  à 'Avatar', dernièrement film magnifique de James Cameron.

Tous les classiques à travers notre histoire, sont basés sur elle, inspirés par cette réalité. Ce conte merveilleux de humanité qui va sans doute nous faire découvrir le cosmos. Car rien au monde n'empêchera l'humanité de survivre pour suivre son chemin. Malgré tous les obstacles barbares et inimaginables, la nature humaine à son meilleur, ne garantit-elle pas que finalement il y aura toujours des 'Happy endings'? 
                                                        _____
         
                                   Texte  © Mirino (PW). Modified image by Mirino. July, 2010 
 

The Snail

At the bottom of the garden, underneath the ivy growth, lived a snail.
It was not a remarkable snail. It was in fact quite common. And it left a trail wherever it went, as common snails always do.

But it never went very far. Snails are homely creatures who have no illusions about seeing the world. Besides, there was no need for the snail to go anywhere.
It was well accommodated. There was always enough to eat nearby, and it was quite content with its own company.

At night it would dine alone, when the blackbirds and thrushes were sleeping.
A good deal of the day it would spend curled up in its shell, snoozing or hoping to sense the splash of a raindrop on its roofing. This was a satisfying sensation for the snail loved the rain. When the ground was wet it helped one move with greater ease. The increase in speed was always exhilarating. The snail would glide majestically from one end of a leaf to the other, waving its little antenna with regal dignity.

There was always plenty of time, and no point in rushing things. Patience is the supreme virtue, thought the snail.

But the day came when the snail's patience was to be tried much further than it had ever been before.

It was decided that the heavy ivy growth should be removed from the garden. It happened without any warning and left the snail in a terrible state of shock.
'It's the end of the world,' it thought, as it huddled in its shell, not daring to peep out its antenna.
The ground trembled and ivy creepers fell thudding. Flashes of light shone through the snail's shell, then suddenly it was bowled over, at least three ivy leaves in length, at shell splitting speed.
It was terrifyingly undignified and extremely uncomfortable.

By the evening all as calm, but the snail was too disturbed to go out to dine that night.
Only in the morning did it have the stomach to venture out to try to snatch a bite to eat. But then the snail had another shock. There was nothing there!
It was another world.

There were only stones, earth and a few dry leaves.

The snail went back inside its shell to consider things carefully. As it did so, it began to feel the heat of the sun.

For the first time in its sheltered life, the snail was faced with a serious problem. And there was no time to spare.
It had to move out of the sun into a damp and shady spot as soon as possible. But first it had to decide which direction to take. Decisions of this kind are most important for snails.

The sun glared down.
The snail was hot and thirsty, but it had reached a decision and was about to move.

The sun rose higher drying the earth and heating the pebbles.

The snail was moving, but it was gruelling work.
After half an hour it still had not managed to get very far.

Its shell was like a little oven, but the snail braved the discomfort to rest awhile, firmly closing its front door to conserve the last drop of precious moisture.

At that same moment, a thrush flew down. Vexed by the snail's unexpected withdrawal, the bird took it in its beak and flew up into an elm tree.

Inside its shell the snail's little antenna trembled with confusion. 'It must truly be the end of the world,' the snail thought.
Never had it felt such jolts and such rapid weather changes. But it was relieved to feel the coolness, to be apparently no longer exposed to the sun.

Then the thrush began to knock the snail against a branch high in the tree. 'Tock, tock; tock, tock'!
Instinctively the snail withdrew still more, as tightly as it could within its shell.

The thrush cocked its head then again tried to break the shell. 'Tock, tock; tock...?'
But this time the bird lost its hold and the snail fell, bouncing down through the branches and the leaves.

In three seconds the snail fell a distance that on a nice, dewy level stretch of ground would have taken it 36 hours at full speed to cover. But as it had no idea of this, it's really of no importance.

Below the elm tree grew a large rhododendron bush. The snail plunged right through it.
Its travels ended abruptly but surprisingly softly, and it landed without suffering from even a crack to its shell.

A tiny bit at the front was missing, it was true, caused by the thrush. Yet this didn't seem to bother the snail. It may have even added to its nonchalant charm.

After all these awful adventures, the snail needed time to rest. But gradually it was well enough to feel around a little.

The snail had landed on a pink rhododendron flower. As it groped further, still somewhat dazed yet enchanted by the perfume and the magic in the cool, damp air, the snail made contact with another...

It was the most beautiful creature the snail had ever seen or felt. It glistened as it glided with grace and polished ease, and its shell, like the finest of jewels, radiated infinity...

Naturally they made a perfect couple, and they were wedded without ceremony or delay. And there was always plenty of time. But none was ever wasted.

From the Rainbow Series

                                                                                    _____
                                              
                                                    Texte  and images © Mirino (PW) July, 2010 

Massoud (1997)

Massoud was assassinated by two Morrocan suicide bombers posing as journalists the 9th September, 2001, two days before the Twin Towers were hit. Amongst those close to him, Dr. Abdullah Abdullah decided that his death should remain temporarily secret, as the Taliban would otherwise take advantage of the terrible loss and sadness felt by the Afghanis of Panjshir. For Massoud had been the only existing, real hope of defence against the Taliban. His death was announced to the world on the 15th September.

Sediqua Massoud wrote 'Pour l'amour de Massoud' in 2004. Christophe de Ponfilly wrote 'Massoud l'Afghan' between 1997 and 98.
Sediqua relied on records and the information her husband had confided to her during their life together.

Christophe de Ponfilly, film producer and journalist, relied on his own observations and the information he received whilst he was in Afghanistan filming Massoud. He filmed and recorded what he saw and heard towards the end of the Afghan-Soviet war, and also later when he returned to Afghanistan in 1997 when Commander Massoud was preparing to retake Kabul from the control of the Taliban.

What is apparent in Sediqua's tribute to Massoud and her account of the events, is that she never seemed to have been informed of the sinister web of intrigues and plots, including that of the West (the CIA) especially regarding the interference of Pakistan and its secret service (ISI) in Afghanistan. Or had she been, perhaps she then felt it would be wiser not to allude to it.

It seems that Pakistan even persuaded the Americans that 'Massoud was dangerous'. Perhaps the USA was content to accept this for motives which the US government then erroneously considered as 'national interests'. This then would have little to do with the freedom of Afghanistan, for which Massoud, his Moudjahidin and others had been fighting most of their lives.
Perhaps it could also be a reason why representatives of the American press, first seemingly willing to come to Afghanistan to interview Massoud, finally cancelled their arrangements pretexting that it was because Massoud didn't speak English!
(Hekmatyar, the extremist, was undoubtedly more acceptable for the American Department of State, because he spoke English. For the US, this would then seem to be a confirmation of intelligence..)

After the withdrawal of the Soviets, up until the Taliban finally took control, there was increasing disorganisation leading to civil war. Each Afghan faction or ethnic had its own foreign backer and financier who incited division. Russia still had its hand in, Iran too, and Saudi-Arabia. (The latter helped Sayaf who massacred the Hazara Shiites). The worst igniter of dissension was Hekmatyar, the pawn of the Pakistanis blindly financed by the Americans. The USA seemed oblivious to the destruction of Kabul directly caused by him and his henchmen.

In both books one is left amazed by the ignorance of the West, and the lack of help which should then have been given to Massoud. Christophe de Ponfilly however, also convincingly suggests why this was the case. For not only the West avoided helping Massoud against the Taliban, evidence indicates that it was then actively working against him and his Moudjahidin.

When I contacted Arte to obtain permission to cite passages from Christophe de Ponfilly's book, they informed me that he died in 2006. He was 55 years old. They wrote that he was an exceptional person, a man totally committed, in his life as well as in his profession. This, one already fully appreciates. I was shocked to learn of his death, because after reading his book, his full engagement not only in following the events of the war, but in trying to capture on film and present the real Massoud, the great, dedicated, much loved and respected man and brilliant tactician whom Christophe so admired, one also gets to know the writer and film producer. One shares his frustration, his exasperation, his anger and his incomprehension caused by the ignorance, short-sightedness, corruption, greed and hypocrisy of even those who pretend to represent freedom and democracy in our mad world. Let this then also be a modest dedication to Christophe de Ponfilly, and to all such rare examples of heroes who like Massoud, fight on until the end, for what they believe in, for freedom, truth and justice. And let what they lived for and fought for, finally be realised. 

__
 

Naturally it would be preferable to quote directly from Christophe de Ponfilly's book. Those who are unfamiliar with French can easily obtain translations if the subject interests them. The numbers refer to the pages of the book. 

__

45.  'Je me souviens avoir pensé ne plus jamais y revenir... mais je n'ai pu me résoudre à apprendre dans les journaux l'encerclement de Massoud par les talibans. J'ai foi en cet homme depuis si longtemps, ce n'est pas pour l'abandonner au moment où on le dit fini. Il me semble qu'avec lui, l'Histoire n'a pas encore dit son dernier mot. Il existe si peu d'hommes de cette dimension sur notre grande planète'.

56.  'Quanouny (un fidèle à Massoud n.d.e) fait part de son incomprehénsion face à la politique américaine en ce qui concerne l'Afghanistan.
-'Pendant les années, nous avons lutté contre le fondamentalisme iranien, et personne, en Occidente, ne nous a soutenus ni remerciés. les Américains ne s'adressent jamais aux Afgans mais aux Pakistanais. Ca suffit!'

78. 'On ne peut pas dire que le problème afghan n'a pas été expliqué. Mais jamais les autorités françaises n'ont pris le dossier afghan très au sérieux. (...) La France est restée absente, ou si peu active. Elle n'a pas eu le courage, pas l'audace de s'enflammer pour éviter que ce pays ne sombre dans l'enfer du terrorisme islamique...'

83. 'Pendant des années, le Pakistan et les Etats-Unis se sont servis de nous comme des pions contre les Soviétiques. Aujourd'hui, alors que l'URSS a volé en éclats, ils veulent mettre sa main sur l'Afghanistan. Mais tant qu'il y aura un Afghan dans le berceau, ils n'y parviendront pas. Maintenant, on a des centaines de prisonniers pakistanais. Qu'est-ce qu'ils foutent en Afghanistan?'

86. 'Lorsque ce n'est pas Massoud qui débrouille un problème avec les uns et les autres dans les différentes provinces d'Afghanistan, c'est le Docteur Abdullah, (Abdullah Abdullah, candidat d'opposition de Karzaï, n.d.e.) son bras droit, qui règle les affaires courantes...'

95. 'Massoud a toujours répugné au terrorisme et n'a jamais su se faire correctement représenter à l'étranger. De fait, il n'est pas suffisamment connu sur la scène internationale. Mais la chance est avec lui. Plusieurs fois, des tueurs ont été engagés pour l'assassiner. Jamais ils n'y sont parvenus. Pourtant il est peu et même rarement gardé. (...).'

97. 'La première nouvelle arrivée fut la chute de Mazar, de la manière la plus tragique puisque milliers de combattants talibans étaient éntrés dans la ville, que les Pakistanais les ravitaillaient en matériel lourd avec leurs porteurs aériens qui se posaient directement sur la piste de l'aérodrome de la ville. (...)'.

119. 'C'est aussi dans cette ville que vit en toute impunité le Saoudien Oussama ben Laden, recherché par les Américains comme dangereux terroriste, "le plus grande financier des poseurs de bombes", dit-on, mais qui était là bien avant pour faire la guerre contre les Russes... Etrange pays où on pactise avec l'ennemie, avec le traître. Les Américaines sont, pour moi, incompréhensibles. (...).'

147/148. 'Les Pakistanais vaincus et l'ISI pensent encore qu'avec une autre opération ils viendront à bout de notre résistance (...).
Si on se content de lancer des opérations et qu'on abandonne l'organisation, à long terme on ne pourra pas tenir. A l'envers, s'occuper de l'organisation sans lancer d'opérations serait une erreur. (...).' (discours de Massoud n.d.e)

150. 'la Grande décision d'aller à Kaboul vient donc d'être prise. Je sais que ces images (filmées, n.d.e) auront, pour L'Afghanistan, plus tard, si les taliban perdent, une véritable valeur historique. (...)'

158. 'Les cadres de la société afghane ayant échappé au massacre sont nombreux à avoir émigré. (...) Massoud s'était plaint du manque de cadres intermédiaires. Le courage est une force, mais il est difficile de mener une guerre longue avec 80% d'illettrés! Comment construire une nation sans aide extérieure?'

159. 'En trois années, sous les yeux des Soviétiques qui n'y pouvaient rien, Massoud avait réalisé son plan d'un "Conseil du Nord", coordination militaire et politique de neuf provinces du nord-est de l'Afghanistan.'

171. 'Hekmatyar! Je me souviens avoir filmé cet assassin. J'aurais préféré tenir une kalachnikov plutôt qu'un caméra... Il avait tué de mes amis. Je l'aurais tué sans état d'âme. (...)'

179. 'Entre les partis, avait-il révélé (Massoud n.d.e) cela a vite tourné au chacun pour soi. Les tentatives pour élaborer une plate-forme commune ont toutes échoué, faute de volonté des leaders. Devant la rapidité de la dégradation, j'ai démissionné de mon poste de ministre de la Défense, mais je suis resté pour défendre Kaboul menacée de toutes parts.

180. 'Tous cherchaient le pouvoir, mettant en avant des revendications ethniques ou agissant pour le compte de puissances étrangères s'ingérants dans les affaires afghanes. Dostom, c'était l'URSS puis l'Ouzbékistan. Le Wahdat, c'était les Hazaras soutenus par les Iraniens. Sayyaf, l'homme des Saoudiens... Le pire a été Hekmatyar, soutenu par les Pakistanais et par les Américains.' (Explications de Massoud n.d.e).

181/182. '-Pourquoi le Pakistan nourrit-il une telle hostilité à votre égard?
 '-Je leur semble trop indépendant. Les Pakistanais savent que jamais ils ne pourront me dicter ma conduite. Mais tous les contacts ne sont pas rompus. Il y a une semaine, nous avons rencontré une délégation pakistanaise. Ils voulaient que je fasse libérer Mollah Ghauss, le ministre des Affaires étrangères des talibans, qui a été capturé dans l'opération de Mazar, actuellement détenu par le géneral Malek. Nous avons refusé et leur demandé des comptes sur leur soutien aux talibans. Dans leur délégation, se trouvait un représentant des services secrets de armée Pakistanaise, l'ISI. Celui-ci nous a juré sur le Coran que le Pakistan ne se mêlait pas des affaires afghanes!'

183. 'Lorsque nous lui avions demandé de nous parler du rôle joué en Afghanistan par les Américains, voilà ce que Massoud avait répond :
Chacun sait qu'ils soutiennent les talibans. J'avais reçu Mme. Raphael lorsqu'elle était en charge du dossier afghan au Département d'Etat. Elle semblait sincèrement convaincue que le mouvement taleb était bon pour les Afghans, ce qui dit long sur l'ignorance des Américains sur notre pays. En réalité, depuis 1979, les Etats Unis ont sous-traité la question afghane aux Pakistanais et, plus précisément, aux services secrets de l'ISI. C'est l'ISI qui a intoxiqué le gouvernement d'Islamabad sur la marche à suivre à notre égard (...)
Depuis, Hekmatyar ayant échoué dans sa prise de pouvoir, l'ISI a réussi à convaincre les Américains d'une victoire possible des talibans, et de la possibilité, pour ce groupe extrémiste pachtoun, de gouverner durablement en Afghanistan! J'attends des Etats Unis qu'ils prennent conscience de leurs erreurs et adoptent une vision plus juste des réalités de notre pays. Car les talibans représentent une conception arriérée de l'Islam- celle des paysans et des nomades du Sud- qui n'a rien à voir avec celle de la majorité des Afghans. Ceux-ci sont très croyants. Ils n'ont nul besoin des leçons de jeunes fanatiques qui interdisent tout et fouettent les femmes. Nous pensons d'ailleurs que l'interdiction qu'ils font aux femmes d'aller à l'école, à l'université et d'exercer des responsabilités dans la société n'a aucun fondement religieux. Ce qui est encore plus grave, c'est de constater que le discours des talibans sur l'islam laisse de plus en plus de place à un discours ethnique. Maintenant on ne parle plus de Coran et de paix, mais de lutte des Pachtouns contre les autres ethnies. (...)'

196. -'Ici, chez Massoud, ce n'est pas la drogue qui finance la guerre!' souligne Bertrand.
Il en sait quelque chose. Du temps où il était député PS de L'Eure-et-Loir, il a dirigé une commission antidrogue à l'Assemblée. Selon des documents, auxquels il avait légitimement accès, notamment quelques enquêtes américaines de la DEA, il était clairement démontré que la plupart des zones de production de la drogue se trouvent dans les régions sous contrôle taleb, ex-régione de Hekmatyar, comme par hasard! (...)'.

211.-'Nous ne comprendrons jamais le jeu des Américains', soupire, comme un refrain, le Commandant qui regarde les étoiles avec nous. les Américains sous-traitent l'Afghanistan par le biais des services secrets pakistanais. (...)'
'D'un côté, en public, ils appellent à la paix et demandent la fin des ingérences étrangères, de l'autre, en secret, leurs agents forment les militaires pakistanais qui encadrent les talibans.
Selon lui, il existerait près de Quetta, au Pakistan, un camp d'entraînement taleb encadré par des mercenaires "privés" vétérans de l'armée américaine. (...).'

217.- '(...) Il sort de son veston des papiers saoudiens saisis sur des cadavres des talibans morts au combat. (...). Contre qui et au nom de quoi croyaient combattre ces malheureux, morts dans la poussière, si loin de chez eux? Tout cela avec la bénédiction des ambassades américains de Riyad ou d'Islamabad. Ne parlons pas des comploteurs de l'ISI ou de la CIA. Tout cela serait risible s'il n'y avait pas autant de morts, si jeunes. (...)'

226.- 'Une de leur méthodes, efficace, (des talibans, pour récupérer des armes des afghans n.d.e) consistait à kidnapper les enfants et à ne les rendre qu'en échange de Kalachnikov. Ce qui scandalise dans un pays où l'enfant est sacré. Il semble qu'aujourd'hui seuls les non-Pachtouns restent désarmés. (...)'.

228.- 'L'Afghanistan est un pays magnifique, mélangé de crasse et de sublime. Les Afghans ne comprennent pas pourquoi, après les Russes, les Américains s'acharnent sur eux. Mais ils sont toujours prêts à défendre leur liberté. (...).'

224.- 'Massoud est imbattable : il met des semaines à préparer une offensive, à disposer les hommes presque un par un. Chaque unité de base, près de trente soldats, connaît très précisément son objectif. Multipliée par cinquante ou cent, cela donne une armée motivée d'une extraordinaire précision.'

230. 'Lorsque Massoud est entré dans Kaboul, en avril 1992, il fallait l'aider, l'assister, batailler pour faire comprendre aux spécialistes de la CIA que le pion Hekmatyar n'allait faire que semer la tempête. Est-ce les mêmes 'spécialistes' qui ont servi sur un plateau la révolution iranienne? J'ai le vertige. Nous vivons dans un monde d'une complexité extrême où les cinglés se retrouvent à des postes sensibles...'

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This then was the situation in 1997. In July of that year Commander Massoud had succeeded in routing the Taliban from Charikar and was set to continue to liberate Kabul. His Moudjahidin advanced until they were only 20 kms from the city. They were then all fully motivated- 'Kabul, Kabul'! But no matter how much Massoud wanted to realise this, and was perfectly aware of how feasible it was, he also knew that there was no chance of establishing a representative, unified and effective government at that time. He knew, also for the sake of Afghanistan, that he had to abandon the idea and withdraw his forces. The Lion then had no other option but to return to his Panjshir valley.

Needless to add, had Massoud received the help he needed and merited at the right time, history would have been different. The sequence of terrible, tragic and unforgettable events that were to follow, four years later, leading to the present, inextricable situation in Afghanistan, might never have occurred. But that, of course, is another story.
                                               

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Passages from Christophe de Ponfilly's 'Massoud l'Alghan' with grateful thanks to Éditions du Félin et Arte Éditions, © 1998. Photo of Massoud with Christophe de Ponfilly. Top Illustration based on a film frame chosen by Christophe de Ponfilly of 'Massoud reading a poem' from the same book. Texte (in English) and image © Mirino (PW) July, 2010