I’ve spent quite a bit of time the last few days searching for information on Ahmad Shah Massoud, the former leader of Afghanistan’s United Front who was assassinated two days before the terrorist attack last year. I had found quite a bit of information on him last September, but then I burnt out and forgot about it until recently. Massoud’s devotion to rebuilding Afghanistan was almost mythical to me. How could someone have that much devotion to such a wasteland? He never claimed to want power or authority. He just wanted his country back. Having grown up in the Panjshir Valley north of Kabul, he was perhaps one of the best candidates for organizing defensives there during the Soviet invasion from ‘79 to ‘89. The Panjshir Valley is one of the only passages from Russia to the Afghan capitol, and whoever controlled the Valley had the upper hand. From what I’ve read so far, the USSR launched at least 7 major attacks on Massoud’s troops in the Panjshir Valley and never once gained control. For this, Massoud became known as the Lion of Panjshir.

I find something very enigmatic about him. On the one hand, I see him as just another guerrilla fighter. On the other hand, I see a man desperate to build a better life for himself and his family. He spent ten years fighting the Soviets only to turn right around and start fighting the Taliban. I really wonder how he would have reacted Sept. 11. He knew that the US — via the Pakistani Secret Service — was supplying him and his army with weapons during the Soviet invasion, but his indepedence was so strong that he never took advice from either the US or Pakistan. And as much as the US may have hated to admit it, Massoud was really the last Afghani hope. He seemed to be perched perfectly in between the devout Muslims of his country and the modern influences of the looming world outside.

In my various web wanderings, I’ve found a few interesting sites. One is called Dangerous Places. Are you an adventurer, a thrill seeker? Then visit one of the world’s most dangerous places. Fielding’s guide is sort of like a Birnbaum’s travel guide for those with a death wish. It’s got sort of a pulp fiction tone and has some interesting basic facts about Afghanistan. Also of interest was an excerpt from Sebastian Junger’s new book, Fire. The details in this moment with Massoud and his army are both romantic and tragic. The book is not specifically about Afghanistan, but rather about our love of danger. Junger writes, “Life in modern society is designed to eliminate as many unforeseen events as possible, and as inviting as that seems, it leaves us hopelessly underutilized…. Threats to our safety and comfort have been so completely wiped out that we have to go out of our way to create them.”

Well, some of us do. I wonder if Massoud would have felt that desire had he been priviledged enough to live a life free of danger, relatively far from death? No one will ever know.

Continuing my quest for All Things Persian, I’ve just started a book that belonged to my grandfather called The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan by James Morier. Published originally in 1824, it’s about a young barber in what was once Persia (now Iran). It’s good so far, a bit witty and full of the romance of Persian antiquity that I’m really craving right now — the magic, the mystery, the art and the religion.

If anyone has any suggested readings on Massoud or Persia, I’d love to hear about them (michael at chatterwaul.com).