I've been in Afghanistan for 21 years. I work for the Red Cross and I'm a physical therapist.My job is to make arms and legs -- well it's not completely true. We do more than that. We provide the patients, the Afghan disabled, first with the physical rehabilitation then with the social reintegration. It's a very logical plan, but it was not always like this. For many years, we were just providing them with artificial limbs. It took quite many years for the program to become what it is now.
Today, I would like to tell you a story, the story of a big change, and the story of the peoplewho made this change possible. I arrived in Afghanistan in 1990 to work in a hospital for war victims. And then, not only for war victims, but it was for any kind of patient. I was also working in the orthopedic center, we call it. This is the place where we make the legs. At that time I found myself in a strange situation. I felt not quite ready for that job. There was so much to learn. There were so many things new to me. But it was a terrific job. But as soon as the fighting intensified, the physical rehabilitation was suspended. There were many other things to do. So the orthopedic center was closed because physical rehabilitation was not considered a priority. It was a strange sensation. Anyway, you know every time I make this speech -- it's not the first time -- but it's an emotion. It's something that comes out from the past. It's 21 years, but they are still all there.
Anyway, in 1992, the Mujahideen took all Afghanistan. And the orthopedic center was closed. I was assigned to work for the homeless, for the internally displaced people. But one day, something happened. I was coming back from a big food distribution in a mosque where tens and tens of people were squatting in terrible conditions. I wanted to go home. I was driving. You know, when you want to forget, you don't want to see things,so you just want to go to your room, to lock yourself inside and say, "That's enough." A bomb fell not far from my car -- well, far enough, but big noise. And everybody disappeared from the street. The cars disappeared as well. I ducked. And only one figureremained in the middle of the road. It was a man in a wheelchair desperately trying to move away.
Well I'm not a particularly brave person, I have to confess it, but I could not just ignore him.So I stopped the car and I went to help. The man was without legs and only with one arm.Behind him there was a child, his son, red in the face in an effort to push the father. So I took him into a safe place. And I ask, "What are you doing out in the street in this situation?" "I work," he said. I wondered, what work? And then I ask an even more stupid question: "Why don't you have the prostheses? Why don't you have the artificial legs?" And he said, "The Red Cross has closed." Well without thinking, I told him "Come tomorrow.We will provide you with a pair of legs." The man, his name was Mahmoud, and the child, whose name was Rafi, left. And then I said, "Oh, my God. What did I say? The center is closed, no staff around. Maybe the machinery is broken. Who is going to make the legs for him?" So I hoped that he would not come. This is the streets of Kabul in those days. So I said, "Well I will give him some money."
(Laughter)
What's next? What is going to be the next change? Well I don't know yet, but I'm sure Najmuddin and his friends, they have it already in mind.
That was my story. Thank you very much.
Adapted from
TED.COM
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