From Afghanistan

As I sit down to write this article about the conditions of the animals in Afghanistan, Georgia, a 4 month old tabby, jumps into my lap as if she owned the space and I was merely renting it. She proceeds to flip on her back to fight and begins the never-ending duel of the evil cuffs hanging off my jacket. I look down at the heiress (since she’s the only cat on the compound that has not fallen victim to the fate of most of Afghanistan’s felines) and I smile knowing this could be my own cat back at home. I playfully swipe at her belly and move my hand too quickly for her to grab. After a few moments I give her the respect of slowing down so she can grip my big hands with her two front paws. As if this wasn’t enough she proceeds to try to bite my hand as if going for the final kill. I giggle from the feeling and allow her to attempt, in vain, to break my skin with her baby teeth. I believe she feels the laughter is an insult to her pride and the process begins all over again.

All 12 of the big strong Army men, when passing the cat in groups of two or more, make snide comments on how worthless and weak she is. Yet I see in my peripheral vision, when they are alone and don’t believe anyone is looking, they will pet, play and baby talk to her highness, and feed her a special morsel they collected throughout the day for her. The only one who openly adores this cat is “Mother”, a senior enlisted soldier who earned this nickname from me for the protective way in which he watches over me both in the field and back at the compound. He mother hens me to death; he is constantly saying, “Did you do this sir? Do you have this sir?” He owns Georgia and she has taken residence in his room. Not for free mind you, to date she has caught more than 30 mice and counting. Even her highness has to earn her keep while residing in our compound.

If I haven’t already told you, Afghanistan is one of the poorest countries in the world. Knowing this, can you now fathom the living conditions and rights of animals that call this home? Very few people here care about any animal except their livestock. And those animals are considered a necessity and not thought of as pets.

The dogs have their ears and tails cut at a young age so that when they get into a fight, no other animal can latch onto the dog by their floppy extremities. The cats are bred to actually be a dietary supplement for the dogs. Donkeys are used and beaten the worst of the animals here since they are pack animals and used for hard labor, but once the Afghan is done using the donkey they are released to find their own food and shelter. Consequently, you will see donkeys wondering around like dogs with no homes, until a farmer has a need for them. The camels are allowed to roam since the nomads who utilize them know they will return to them since they are trained from birth to be domesticated. The sheep are protected and fed regularly since they produce wool and are the main source of meat for the Afghan. Fights take place between tribes over the stealing or killing of another tribe’s sheep. If the elder rules that one tribe has to pay back for the death of a sheep, they have to pay for up to ten generations that was lost from the sheep in its wool and offspring.

Every other animal is only mentioned as a second thought. Birds, no matter what type, are killed for food or captured to be sold in the market. All the animals that live in the desert are captured to use in herbal remedies from curing Alzheimer’s disease to the common cold. Some are even encased in glass to be sold in the bazaar. The wild animals in the mountains are hunted for their precious skins and since they do not have the equivalent of a National Wildlife Committee – everything is fair game. Even the fish are extremely rare, since the water here does not support any aquatic life. Since the river is a main source for drinking, bathing, washing laundry and use as a public toilet, I can only imagine why nothing lives in it.

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