I sometimes wonder what it takes to change the world. In particular, how do people around the world know that we, here in the U.S., are just like them? Between a good friend of mine, an Argentinean, there are no barriers. Her life, her sensibility is much the same as mine.
But what about the women whose country doesn’t allow them to vote? Or the ones who are shrouded from head to toe? Or those who endure female castration? How to tell them that life can be different? That others care? That under the burkha, we are the same?
That’s just what Afghans for Afghan does. Bodies are warmed, but so are minds and souls and hearts.
Here’s a pretty wonderful article from Knitch magazine, the new online fashion mag for knitters. The article, Afghans for Afghans, written by Deborah Knight, explores the devastation and hope for Afghani children.
Amidst the devastation comes hope for little girls.
Afghans for Afghans brings joy and warmth to the unforgotten children of war.
Pamela Miller Ness is sitting in a comfortable easy chair at a cafe in Greenwich Village. It’s cold outside, but she’s warm and dry, chatting happily with other knitters as she works on a little hat. She’s been knitting and crocheting for over 50 years and has created with her own hands countless sweaters, scarves, hats and socks for her many friends and family. Today she’s knitting with all her heart something very special for someone she’ll never see, someone she’ll never meet, someone she’ll never even know. The hat she’s knitting is for a little girl who lives a world apart, in the worst imaginable conditions, and whose tortured life will be just a little bit better…because Pamela wants her to know, “You are not forgotten.”
An old truck rumbles along a twisting dirt road, snow-capped mountains in the distance and nothing but desolation ahead. The landscape is barren; the trees may have been felled for desperately needed firewood to keep a family warm. Or the timber was used to build them a shelter from the cold. Or, as is often the case, the trees were chopped down to ensure no enemy combatants could hide behind them, ready to fire at whomever got in their way.
The driver is relieved that his precious cargo is intact. He knew it would be a risky venture, driving along this treacherous and treacherously slow road from Kabul, and he’d hoped to avoid the suspicious eyes of the Taliban. To avoid confrontation, he’d camouflaged his shipment in enormous orange sacks usually used for vegetables. He hoped these sacks wouldn’t be of interest to his inquisitors. But, they’d noticed them packed high in the back of the vehicle and had inquired about their contents.
“Used clothes and medical supplies,” he told them, praying they’d let him pass by unchallenged.
In an unexpected act of kindness, they’d allowed him to continue. And so he rumbles along the dusty road on his way to a small village. He is taking gifts to the children of Ismael Mayar Primary School. He is risking all because he wants them to know, “You are not forgotten.”
For the entire article, go here. It’s really worth the read.