Friday, January 4, 2013

Insider Attacks Shape Afghan War


Insider Attacks in Afghanistan Shape the Late Stages of a War

Video Image via Site Monitoring Service
Mahmood is shown being welcomed by the Taliban after he opened fire on American trainers in Kunar Province.

Musadeq Sadeq/Associated Press
Guards at police headquarters in Kabul after an American contractor was killed by an Afghan policewoman on Dec. 24.

The soldier, named simply Mahmood, 22, said that in May he told the insurgents of his plan to shoot Americans the next time they visited the outpost where he was based in northeastern Afghanistan. He asked the Taliban to take him in if he escaped.

The Taliban veterans he contacted were skeptical. Despite their public insistence that they employ vast ranks of infiltrators within the Afghan Army and the police, they acknowledged that many of the insider attacks they take credit for start as offers by angry young men like Mahmood. They had seen many fail, or lose their nerve before even starting, and they figured that Mahmood, too, would prove more talk than action or would die in the attempt.

“Even the Taliban didn’t think I would be able to do this,” Mr. Mahmood said in an interview.
He proved them wrong days later, on the morning of May 11, when he opened fire on American trainers who had gone to the outpost in the mountains of Kunar Province. One American was killed and two others were wounded. Mahmood escaped in the ensuing confusion, and he remains free in Kunar after the Taliban welcomed him into their ranks.
It was, he said, his “proudest day.”

Such insider attacks, by Afghan security forces on their Western allies, became “the signature violence of 2012,” in the words of one former American official. The surge in attacks has provided the clearest sign yet that Afghan resentment of foreigners is becoming unmanageable, and American officials have expressed worries about its disruptive effects on the training mission that is the core of the American withdrawal plan for 2014.

“It’s a game changer on all levels,” said First Sgt. Joseph Hissong, an American whohelped fight off an insider attack by Afghan soldiers that left two men in his unit dead.

Cultural clashes have contributed to some of the insider attacks, with Afghan soldiers and police officers becoming enraged by what they see as rude and abusive behavior by Americans close to them. In some cases, the abusive or corrupt behavior of Afghan officers prompts the killer to go after Americans, who are seen as backing the local commanders. On rare occasions, like the killing of an American contractor by an Afghan policewomanlate last month, there seems to be no logical explanation.

But behind it all, many senior coalition and Afghan officials are now concluding that after nearly 12 years of war, the view of foreigners held by many Afghans has come to mirror that of the Taliban. Hope has turned into hatred, and some will find a reason to act on those feelings.

“A great percentage of the insider attacks have the enemy narrative — the narrative that the infidels have to be driven out — somewhere inside of them, but they aren’t directed by the enemy,” said a senior coalition officer, who asked not to be identified because of Afghan and American sensitivities about the attacks.

The result is that, although the Taliban have successfully infiltrated the security forces before, they do not always have to. Soldiers and police officers will instead go to them, as was the case with Mr. Mahmood, who offered a glimpse of the thinking behind the violence in one of the few interviews conducted with Afghans who have committed insider attacks.
“I have intimate friends in the army who have the same opinion as I do,” Mr. Mahmood said. “We used to sit and share our hearts’ tales.”

But he said he did not tell any of his compatriots of his plan to shoot Americans, fearing that it could leak out and derail his attack. The interviews with Mr. Mahmood and his Taliban contacts were conducted in recent weeks by telephone and through written responses to questions. There are also two videos that show Mr. Mahmood with the Taliban: an insurgent-produced propaganda video available on jihadi Web sites, and an interview conducted by a local journalist in Kunar.

Though Mr. Mahmood at times contradicted himself, falling into stock Taliban commentary about how it had always been his ambition to kill foreigners, much of what he said mirrored the timelines and versions of events provided by Taliban fighters who know him, as well as Afghan officials familiar with his case.

Mr. Mahmood grew up in Tajikan, a small village in the southern province of Helmand. The area around his village remains dominated by the Taliban despite advances against the insurgents made in recent years by American and British troops. Even Afghans from other parts of Helmand are hesitant to 
travel to Tajikan for fear of the Taliban.

Col. Khudaidad, an Afghan officer who runs the Afghan National Army’s recruitment center in Helmand, said Mr. Mahmood enlisted about four years ago. His story, up to that point, would be familiar to many Americans: He was a poor boy from a family of eight who worked sweeping up in a tailor shop and was looking for a better life. The army offered steady pay, reading and writing lessons, and a chance to see something beyond the mud hovels in which he was born and raised.
“He barely had a beard,” recalled Colonel Khudaidad, who also uses only one name, in an interview. “He looked so innocent that you wouldn’t believe what he did if you only saw him then.”

Mr. Mahmood says he was anything but an innocent. He grew up being told that Americans, Britons and Jews “are the enemies of our country and our religion,” he said.
But until May, he worked and fought alongside foreigners without incident. The change came in the Ghaziabad District of Kunar, where he ended up after the start of 2012, he said.
The area is thick with Taliban, along with Islamists from Pakistan. Many residents sympathized with the insurgents and often complained to Afghan soldiers about the abuses committed by Americans and the failure of Afghan soldiers to control much of anything beyond the perimeter of their own outpost, Mr. Mahmood said. The Taliban, they glorified.
Listening to villagers, Mr. Mahmood became convinced that the foreigners had killed too many Afghans and insulted the Prophet Muhammad too many times. He wanted to be driving them out, not helping them stay. The villagers’ stories “strengthened my desire to kill Americans with my own fingers,” he said.
He contacted the Taliban through a local sympathizer. He did not want help — he only asked the insurgents “not to shoot me” if he managed to escape after attacking the Americans, which he told them would happen in a few days.
He was on guard duty when American soldiers arrived at the outpost on May 11. He waited for a few of them to shed their body armor and put down their weapons, and then he opened fire. (New regulations require American trainers to keep their armor on and weapons at hand when visiting Afghan bases.)
The Afghan and American soldiers initially thought the attack was coming from the outside. They “didn’t even think that someone within the Afghan Army might have opened fire on Americans,” he said. “I took advantage of this confusion and fled.”
He claimed to have hit six Americans. “I don’t know how many were killed, though I hope all were,” he said. The coalition said one soldier was killed and two were wounded.
The Taliban welcomed him as a hero. He was given the title “ghazi,” an honorific for someone who helps drive off non-Muslim invaders. “They let me keep the same rifle I used to kill Americans.”
In August, the Taliban featured Mr. Mahmood in a propaganda video, calling him “Ghazi of Ghaziabad.” The video shows Mr. Mahmood, smiling broadly, being draped with garlands and showered with praise from local elders, Taliban fighters and cheering crowds of men and boys.
The following month, the American-led military coalition announced that it had killed Mr. Mahmood in an airstrike. The coalition now says it was mistaken and that Mr. Mahmood is still with the Taliban in Kunar.
Villagers and officials in Helmand backed up that account, saying Mr. Mahmood had been in touch with relatives since the report of his death. Mr. Mahmood said he spoke only to his mother, and that “she was happy.”
Sangar Rahimi and Jawad Sukhanyar contributed reporting from Kabul, and an employee of The New York Times from Asadabad.


The Fresno Poems: "She So Sweet When She Sleep"

undefinedMarvin X
photo Kamau Amen Ra





for PY

She so sweet when she sleep
love looking at her
covers over head
won't let me in bed
except to put her to sleep
then
got to leave
sleep on couch
baby can grouch
if she don't get her sleep
insomnia nervous workaholic
trying to get it for self
miss independent
like ain't we all
but let her sleep
a terror awake
madness
I can't take
but our moment of tenderness
tongue on breasts
down her valley of the Nile
she works me too
yeah
so sweet
let baby sleep
let baby sleep
so sweet
so sweet.
--Marvin X
1/4/95

from Love and War, poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, 1995.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

The Fresno Poems: "I Will Go into the City"


The following poem will resound as long and as deeply as any love poem ever written by anyone: Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonja Sanchez, Maya et al.
--Fahizah Alim

I Will Go into the City

for S.J.

I will go into the city
I will find work
I will find work
I will remember you, country woman
I will not forget you
Your laugh, your arguments
In order to learn
It is your way, let it be
How can I forget your lips
Your enchanting smile
I will not forget
The night we walked in the rain
Because it was free and we were free
For once we agree
The best of life is free
I will go into the city
I will find work
But you will be with me, country woman
When those city woman come to devour me
With their sweet perfume
You will be there
Your spirit will protect me
I will never forget
How we sipped $1.00 margaritas
In the Mexican café in Chinatown
Our ride to the lake
Our picnic on the hill
The ranger spotted us with his binoculars
We did not care
We were filled
With the holy spirit of love
How can I forget
Hours in bed
We became children
Of the love spirit
Days, nights, mornings
Became one moment
Man and woman became one
Discovered their missing self
Eternal self
Self of love
Self of joy
Self of happiness realized

I will go into the city
I will find work
I will not forget you, country woman
I will return to claim you
In the name of love
I will claim you
Because you are woman
I will claim you
Because you are feeling and spirit
I will claim you
Because you are mind and beauty
I will claim you
Because you have given yourself to me so totally
I will claim you
In the name of Allah
I will claim you
For the glory of Allah
I will claim you.
--Marvin X
From Selected Poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, 1979.

The Fresno Poems: "Mama's Love"

photo Ken Johnson



Mama taught love
love
each other
love
everyone
no matter
what color
love
brothers
sisters
love
Mama taught
Her Christian Science made us know "the truth"
truth is
ain't no love like Mama's love
Nietzsche said Mother Love turns to smother love
so we suffocated
Mama drowned us in her love
all in our bizness
especially her six daughters
classic matriarch
I don't like none of them nigguhs you girls wit
ain't none of them nigguhs shit
Mama
keep out of other people's business
no way jose
love was her business
then Mama died
all the love she tried
to build between us siblings
crumbled
so much crust of bread
dust
sand
love became hate
or was it hate all the time
just waiting for Mama to leave room
so we could call each other dirty hoes
bitches
punk motherfuckers
ass holes.
Did we love
for love
or love for Mama
love is eternal
Mama ephemeral
we loved for Mama
Mama alone
so loved turned to hate
hate to violence
violence to silence
we don't talk
don't call
don't write
meet at funerals only
if then.
and don't talk then
avoid the eyes
revealing truth we want so hard
to deny
that
in fact
in deed
we do
love.

from Love and War, poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 1995.













































































The Fresno Poems: "Two Poets in the Park"


For Sherley Ann Williams 
Aug 25, 1944--July 6, 1999

We sat in Central Park, NYC winter '97
70 degrees in February
we met the night before after 17 years of silence
high school lovers should always be friends
memory of precious times
what a blessing sitting in Central Park
talk of family friends poets poems
you know Ntozake was
Baraka has
Skip Gates got a 
about us nothing
we didn't go there
after 17 years of silence
we sat still

II

My homegirl from the hood Fresno
projects cotton grape fields
Fink White playground
Columbia Elementary
Edison High
drama club honor society
full of passion with her love
screaming scratching
aborted child at my request
to my eternal regret
Mama said that's the girl you ought to marry
she's smart!
she never married
was blue about this
said a bad relationship was better than no relationship
poet 
critic
novelist
professor
nobody better
two poets in the park
now there is only one
peace my sister my darling.
--Marvin X
7/15/99

from Land of My Daughters, poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 2005.


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Black Bird Press News and Review





The Fresno Poems: "Date with my Son"



Again the vines orchards
Amtrak to the valley
hesitation fear
the love the hate
return to old battlefield for righteousness justice
battle I didn't need to fight
death of warriors who battled beside me
Pat and Barbara, mothers who blessed me
disciplined children
never raised my voice with them, ever
never whipped them
wives now gone from my life
girlfriends growing fat like myself
insane from valley heat











again the vines orchards
coming winter
my sick son
calls me to valley
Nadar Ali my "fish" for the NOI takes me
to find my son
he is not home
strange signs in window
jesus and others
Later I taxi back to find him with candle burning
blows out candle
we go to motel
talk all night
surprised at his sanity
talks of Fulbright days in Egypt and Damascus
Syrian secret police question him five times daily
was he a prayer rug
visits American embassy
was he spy for the devil
did CIA take his mind
was he Manchurian Candidate
do not take his mad rantings serious
have a sense of humor he says
bear with him he pleads to all who love him
we all love him
we know the power of his mind
refuses help from my doctor friends
they're sick too he says
they need to help nigguhs in the Bay
I listen learn
he drifts from sanity to insanity
night turns day
he lay beside me
my 35 year old baby boy
snoring beyond loud
I dream of someone snoring
he is up again
ranting into the sunrise
the Syrians interrogate him
one smokes a cigar
looking like Saddam Hussain
what did he do at the American embassy
why is he studying books about Syria
what does he think of President Hafez Asad
Does he support the views of the Baath Party
Why is he hanging around those filthy Palestinians
It's morning now. He wants to go home
Wants money for child support I missed 35 years ago
He wants trust fund
If I leave him one he will seek healing
he promises
for security he packs stack of my books and CDs to sell
promises not to give me any money from the sales
will keep it all
calls me bitch
more properly bee-ach
says I taught him to talk like this
I say we must stay on father-son plane
not brother/brother
he laughs
says shut up beech
we embrace
he exits
I love him
I know he loves me
yes, even in his insanity.
--Marvin X
10/29/99

from Land of My Daughters, poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, 2005.


Job for Media Relations Manager

NWU-UAW Logo
National Writers Union
January 2, 2012
We start the new year with a job opening for a media relations manager to work in either NYC, Washington, DC or Portland, OR.  Please let Ann Hoffman know if you get the job.


Compassion & Choices seeks an accomplished Media Relations Manager to build the organization's national visibility about our advocacy for end-of-life choice.


The successful candidate could work from our Washington, DC, or New York office. Compassion & Choices offers competitive salaries; a comprehensive, generous benefits package; and an extremely friendly and collegial work environment. We have several exciting initiatives underway; it's the right time for a dynamic, creative media professional to join our team!



National Writers Union 


Dear Marvin X, A poem for my teacher



Dear Marvin X
It is 2013
the fire is low
and knowing has never been needed more
we need knowing like a dope fiend need a hit
but a dope fiend is dedicated
we just in the dark
wont reach for the light
wont reach
just down here on the ground
needing to know
you know
you tell
you cant be quiet you know so much
are you tired because we still refuse to know
is the knowing heavy
does it hurt to be the smartest 
nigger in the room
here with us with a flash light
and that damn tireless pen
but still you cant get
us home
you think we too far gone?
you agree with your mother yet?
living gets lonely
niggers die
niggers wont know
niggers go crazy
niggers wont know
niggers drink henny & baileys and drive alone
running from knowing
that niggers got to know
so I pray for old men
who drive alone
and the wonder of them
here 
knowing
--Ayodele Nzinga, Ph.D.

Ayodele is Marvin X's top student, having worked with him since 1981 when she directed his play In the Name of Love when he taught drama at Oakland's Laney College. In 1998 she joined his Recovery Theatre and directed his play One Day in the Life, also performed in the drama that is known as the longest running African American drama in northern California. Ayodele now has her own theatre, the Lower Bottom Playaz in West Oakland. 

The Fresno Poems: "Secret Life of a Poet"






photo Ken Johnson


Secret Life of a Poet

Sometimes he claimed city
of it loved it
energy diversity creativity
but in the DNA of his mind
fields of cotton grape vines

cow patches orchards
in rivers of his mind
creeks ditches canals
was pleased riding AmTrak down valley
Tracy Modesto Turlock  Merced Chowchilla Madera
highway 99
Fresno summers
Grandma's hands
don't let me have to give you a backhand slap boy!
mosquitoes
distant whistle freight train
crickets
devouring watermelons late night
D.D. brought from El Centro
ole cousin D.D.
walking hard in half Wellingtons
talking shit
James Earl Jones voice
classic truck driver
ever on the road
D.D. my dirt hero
cow dung man
chicken shit man
midnight sun man
110 degrees at 1am
Valley of death fog
let governor have ten car accident
just a country boy
lemons off trees
turn on well water at night
irrigate rows Mama said
don't be lazy boy
wouldn't have you for a man
you don't need no wife
you need maid secretary mistress
Mama knows best
Brother Tommy don't want eggs from chicken coop
wants eggs from Safeway
he Safeway ass nigguh
somewhere playing safe right now
me country boy
learned city blues.

from Love and War, poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, 1995.

In the name of love, a poem for Fresno

photo Ken Johnson

This is my land.
I own this land in the name of love
land of my ancestors
land of nat turner
land of sojourner truth
land of harriet tubman
I claim all of it
every inch of it
in the name of love
I claim the corn the peppers the almonds the peas
the raisins the cotton I claim
in the name of love
in the valley heat love is on the vines
hot love in the valley of my love
hot dripping love
I am the the vines the grapes
in the name of love
I return to the corn
there is love in the corn
all the valley is my love
the orchards the cows horses
I am this I am this love....
--Marvin X
from In the Name of Love, In the Land of My Daughters, Black Bird Press, 2005