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about
Working as a Political Advisor gave me cause and opportunity to spend a lot of time with Afghans. This was mostly a great pleasure. Afghan men are full of mirth, gracious and courteous (except for when they’re not). One could swing between being full of admiration for their resilience and geniality, and appalled by their bickering and duplicity, or rumours of their sexual practices.
In the end, it’s better to understand than to judge and one thing that is certainly true about Afghans is that in a country that had a life expectancy of 44 (in 2001) you are dealing with a race of survivors. In this fiercely competitive tribal environment the management of allegiances and alliances is key to survival. So if they seem a bit artful about it, it is because they probably need to be.
Working in Afghanistan, you learn something new and surprising every day. It’s like peeling off layers of blindfolds. But in the end, we can never really know what it’s like to live like an Afghan.
lyrics
When I live, I want to live like an Afghan, live like an Afghan lives. Walk tall as the rockets are falling around me, laugh as they barely miss.
If you meet me in the streets of Kandahar then greet me with a bearded kiss.
We shall live yes we shall live like the Afghans, live like the Afghans live.
When I dance, I want to dance like an Afghan, dance like the Afghans dance.
Never know what’s going to happen tomorrow, this could be our last chance.
So shake your hips and swing my hands to heaven, let your feet pound the dusty floor
Wake in the morning to tea and some flat bread, get stuck back in to the war
When I love I want to love like an Afghan, love like the Afghans do. Everybody needs someone to love and today I’m in love with you.
Meet the boys on a Thursday evening but a man needs a wife or two. When I love I want to love like the Afghans love like the Afghans do.
When I fight I want to fight like an Afghan, fight like the Afghans fight. Kiss your cheek if we should meet in the market out in the broad daylight.
Cut your throat under the cover of darkness with a courteous flick of the wrist.
Manners matter when you fight like an Afghan, fight like the Afghans live
When I die I want to die like an Afghan, die like an Afghan dies. Hope there’ll be someone present who loves me to brush away all the flies.
In the end you might go with a whisper, or a bang like our dear Massoud. Either way I want to die like an afghan, die like an afghan would.
In the end you know these things happen and you’ll want to get on with it. When I die I want to die like an Afghan, die like an Afghan lives.
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