I found this story by chance, I liked the fact that American Dan Terry sought to get to know the people of Afghanistan. He was a mennonite christian which is very brave in Afghanistan, given the intolerance of the islamic Taliban.   However, he fell in love with the people and made Afghanistan his home.  I can understand that, I fell in love with the Afghans I met.  I felt nothing but hospitality and love from the ones I knew.  There is so much misunderstanding in the world when we see enemies rather than potential friends.  This statement also applies to the tribal warlords and Taliban who saw enemies in opposition, rather than mercy in loving fellow human beings.  When religion is used as an extension of love, great things can happen.

This story is worth posting as I feel the love in it.

http://www.ravenfoundation.org/blogs/peace-violence/making-friends-among-the-taliban/

Making Friends among the Taliban: A Peacemaker’s Journey in Afghanistan

The Taliban. Just the name evokes intense emotions of anger and hatred because, for many in the West, the Taliban is known for one thing: terrorism.

How should Christians react to the Taliban? Well, if we’re at all serious about our Christian identity, we must look to the words of Jesus:

You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:43-44)

Many Christians think that Jesus didn’t have groups like the Taliban in mind when he told his followers, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” But when Jesus said, “Follow me,” did he actually mean that we should love our enemies in the same way he loved his enemies? Or, would Jesus rather that the United States bomb the hell out of the Taliban and terrorize them with our drones?

I’m pretty sure Jesus calls us to love our enemies in the same way he loved his. But it begs the question: how can we love the Taliban when they are just so…awful?

Making Friends with Crazy

Look to the inspirational example of Dan Terry. His story is told in his biography Making Friends among the Taliban: A Peacemaker’s Journey in Afghanistan, written by Jonathan Larson. Dan was driven by his Christian faith to live in Afghanistan as a peacemaker. You might think that his religious identity would be a deterrent to building peaceful relationships with the Taliban, but that was not the case. “Dan was nothing if not a spiritually rooted and persuaded Christian, but that proved no hindrance to finding his place in a deeply Muslim society.” Far from accusing him of being an evil infidel, high-ranking members of the Taliban became friends with Dan and promised him safety as he journeyed throughout Afghanistan’s backcountry.

Dan’s Afghan friends had two nicknames for him. The first was his Afghan name, Dantri. The second was a bit more colorful: Pagal, which means Crazy. Indeed, “Sometimes people thought Dan was slightly unhinged, because he insisted on the good in all people, often in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.”

Dan had intuited something incredibly important about human nature. When it comes to violence and peace, humans are mimetic. Without realizing it, we instinctively imitate the violence against us, but we also instinctively imitate peaceful actions. Dan’s story reveals the mimetic aspect of human nature and the power of love to transform violence. Once a visiting minister asked Dan how Christians should pray for the Afghan people. Dan responded, “What I can tell you is this. It must be with great love. Above all, we must love them.”

An Unlikely Love

It was that radical love that made Dan friends with nearly everyone he met – even those who sought to persecute him. He was frequently captured by Taliban commanders, yet Larson writes that Dan was convinced “it was possible to conduct reasonable discussions […] with the Taliban when differences or difficulties arose.” Dan was once captured while traveling in the Afghan backcountry. The hostile commander who captured him thought he could extort money from him; but Dan had nothing to give. As the hours passed, Dan remained calm and friendly to his captor. Soon, his captor imitated Dan’s peaceful spirit. “They ate together and drank tea as conversation and camaraderie flowered. In time, it dawned on the captor that a strange friendship had sprung between him and his oddly warm hostage.”

Dan’s strange friendship with the Taliban continued to grow. He never carried a weapon to protect himself. He relied on love, kindness, and friendship. Dan “counted among his friends the Taliban commanders of his neighborhood, insisting that they were not the caricatures of evil portrayed in the West. Flint-like in his belief that there was something noble in each neighbor, Dan kept reaching for the humanity of each person he met.”

More Muslim than we Muslims?

One Afghan stated, “Dantri was more Afghan than we Afghans, and he was more Muslim than we Muslims.” According to this man, Dan was more Afghan than them because of his trustworthiness, loyalty, and sacred hospitality. What made him more Muslim? His Afghan friends claimed, “In the greatest commandments of our scripture–to practice humility; to be generous to widows, the orphans, and the poor; and to be selfless and persevering in the search for justice and peace–Dantri was more Muslim than we Muslims.” The mimetic aspect is obvious; Dan and his Muslim friends inspired one another to become more caring and compassionate. In the words of the Quran, “Good and evil cannot be equal; repel what is evil with what is better and your enemy will become as close as an old and valued friend.” (41:34)

Tragedy

After 30 years of working in Afghanistan, Dan tragically was killed along with a group of other humanitarian workers. They were ambushed and executed by 10 gunmen while delivering medical supplies to villages. Though there were investigations, the murders remain a mystery. The most prominent theory claims that the perpetrators likely were Pakistanis who didn’t know Dan. What we do know is that the Afghan Taliban, who we in the West think are quick to take responsibility for any act of terror, vehemently condemn the murder of their friend and deny any responsibility for the attack.

Still, Dan’s death could make us skeptical about his pursuit of friendship with the Taliban. We may accuse him of being foolish. Indeed, Dan’s life was filled with risk, but the alternative of war in Afghanistan has also been risky, and has only ensured a mimetic cycle of violence along with deeper enmity and distrust between our two nations.

Overcoming Stereotypes

Dan’s strange friendship among the Taliban gives me hope for humanity. Dan believed that the West and the Taliban have distorted images of each other that can only be reconciled through the pursuit of love and friendship. “If that is true,” writes Larson, “then the Taliban and Western societies, as well as diplomats, will need to surmount the caricatures that have been imprinted on the public mind–those cartoon-like distortions of each other that have served the cause of war but that now thwart any path toward lasting peace.”

Dan’s life was based on the crazy, infectious love that Jesus taught. After meeting Dan, some war-weary Afghans in the central highlands responded mimetically to Dan’s peaceful spirit by forming a society called the Hezb-i-Pagal: the Party of Crazies. “The sole condition of membership is a ‘mad’ pledge to seek the good of the community and to disavow fighting and corruption.” Today, the Hezb-i-Pagal is headquartered in a village just west of Kabul. The requirement for membership is to help construct community buildings, including schools, clinics and mosques.

Dan’s story is inspiring, but I’ll be honest, I’m not going to Afghanistan to befriend the Taliban any time soon. Sometimes we can think less of ourselves by comparing our lives to those of people like Dan. But that’s not the point. Rather, Dan’s radical Christian love and commitment to friendship can be practiced by anyone, anywhere.

http://www.thirdway.com/peace/?Page=7553|A+Peacemaker%27s+Journey+in+Afghanistan

Peace Blend

Stories

A Peacemaker’s Journey in Afghanistan

By Jonathan Larson, as told to Melodie Davis

My friend Dan Terry grew up in India, the eldest child of post-war missionaries. His parents were Methodists. His father, George, was a conscientious objector in World War II (quite rare for a Methodist) who served in a mental hospital in Pennsylvania. Dan inherited this alternative reading of what the Gospels call us to. There was something against the grain even in his father’s convictions, and this also took root with Dan.  

As missionary kids we both attended Woodstock boarding school in northern India where we became fast friends and relished hikes, swims, fixing jeeps, and exploring together. Later we both attended college in the U.S. in different states. After college he headed to Afghanistan, and my wife and family worked in several locations in Africa. But we kept in touch through the years. When we got together, there were flat-out all night storytelling sessions when he would talk about what he’d discovered, seen, and experienced in the Hindu Kush. What lingered with me after those rendezvous was an impression that there was a great deal more of Dan’s story that was left in in the mountains.

Over 30 years, Dan worked as a humanitarian aid worker in many settings, such as in public health. He would transport doctors and nurses to remote back communities. But once on site, there were issues of how do you access the people to begin to interact and work with them? Dan met with the tribal elders and religious authorities to clear the way. That was a kind of second home for Dan, trying to turn their decisions in the direction of helping the forgotten children and mothers. This is the role of a servant: one who doesn’t seek limelight but is content and finds joy in doing this invisible work that makes possible the work of others. 

Dan’s wife, Seija, originally from Finland, and his three daughters loved Afghanistan too. Dan would be absent sometimes for days at a time, somewhere in the back country, working on a hostage negotiation or some other delicate transaction. He would tell them, “There’s something I have to do and I will be gone for a time. Don’t ask me where. I’ll try to be in touch with you as often as I’m able.” 

Afghanistan is a land of guns, a land of violence. Dan in that setting never packed a gun. And in that sense he set himself apart from prevailing practice. It was his witness that there was a power beyond the gun, to which he had committed himself. And he would hang his calling on that power.

But in August 2010, as Dan and nine other humanitarian workers (including MCC worker Glen Lapp) were returning from a medical mission trip to a very remote mountainous area, they were ambushed and shot execution-style. A tragic, or a predictable end?

This is the role of a servant: one who doesn’t seek limelight but is content and finds joy in doing this invisible work that makes possible the work of others.

Many have used the term martyr to speak about Dan. It is a term that hard to avoid when thinking about this story and the others who lost their lives there. That term is so loaded that it’s been helpful for me to kind of turn it around. The root of that word is best translated in English as witness (the Greek meaning of the word). The 30 years that Dan lived and worked amongst the people of Afghanistan can be wonderfully summed up if we use the term witness. He was brilliant in leaving the impression of something unusual, something really extraordinary, in his convictions and the way he worked, that imprinted people after he was long gone, even those who encountered him for very brief periods of time. One man, who only spent a handful of days with Dan in Afghanistan in the 70s, said that out of his whole life, Dan was the person who had most affected the course of his life. It goes back to this notion of being a witness to something beyond oneself. Dan did that profusely and unforgettably. He was a great witness. 

There’s another story about Dan being held hostage by a person who wanted to rip him and his family off, for ransom. Dan and this crafty man with a gun ended up being friends. The two of them had their relationship transformed. It went from hostility and coercion to friendship. That’s in a nutshell what happened all along the way in Dan’s life. I think in some ways that even characterizes his death. There’s much to regret in that death, but what’s happened in Dan’s case is that now that this story has come to light (which is full of life, light, and calling), there is beauty. In some ways Dan’s story is shot through as a Christian story, if it can be characterized that way, because it is shot through with gospel.

Excerpted from an interview with Mennonite storyteller Jonathan Larson, from Atlanta, Georgia. He is the author of a new book, Making Friends among the Taliban: A Peacemaker’s Journey in Afghanistan (Herald Press, Oct. 2012). He is also one of the principals in the documentary airing October–December on ABC-TV, Weaving Life, a documentary on the life and death of peacemaker Dan Terry. See a video trailer with Jonathan Larson, a blog and links to a study guide for Weaving Life at http://www.thirdway.com/WeavingLife/ or www.LarsonJ.com.  Also get updates on Facebook by liking the “Weaving Life” page.

Photo caption: Dan Terry in Afghanistan.

Dan Terry – Making an adventure

posted by Sandra Slomp at 3:13 pm

 http://cure.org/blog/2010/08/dan-terry-making-an-adventure/#more-2366

No one could make an adventure a real adventure like Dan could.

My first month in Kabul and Dan decides that it is time to go for a hiking trip to Istalif.  I was excited that we went up in his jeep because once we got to the villages, Dan stopped the jeep and invited us all to ride on the roof. Now this was extra special, as getting to breathe the clean air outside Kabul was very rare!  So off we rode rumbling and tumbling through the little villages with children laughing and pointing as they skipped along beside the strange sight of foreigners having such a view of their dusty road.  And Dan just trusted we could stay on; there was no slowing just because we were on the roof, or just because there were potholes and bumps.  We did thankfully.

That was only the beginning though.    At the beginning of our hike, Dan quickly hikes on past the rest of our group, wishing us a good day (bad knees and all) and leaving us in the hands of others who had previously hiked there.   But as the day progresses with no sign of Dan again, we start to get a little nervous, until whistling up the trail, it’s Dan coming back, with stories of the country people he met and the men who shared their tea with him.  It meant we were walking back in the dark.  I was thrilled.  It was my only opportunity while I was in Afghanistan when I got to enjoy the countryside along the peaceful brook, among the bright stars and breathe deeply in the cool, fresh air. This was a rare treasure in our lives of limited freedom, especially in the stale heat of the summer.  We got into a little trouble for that.   But Dan always understood the risks or lack of them, and I would trust no one else to that same level of cultural wisdom.

Dan made everything an adventure.  He never tried to avoid difficulty and challenges.  I think because this added to the excitement and made a good story later.

Another adventure I had with Dan was driving home with him and his wife from CURE Hospital.  We had been there delivering cookies for the end of Ramadan or something, and the Afghan staff was thrilled to see Dan come down the hall to pick us up.  He always had kind, joking words for all.

Leaving the hospital, Dan decided it would be good to take a detour home and that meant the opposite way of home.   So our first stop was Darulaman Palace.  I had been there often, but only to the lower street for a picture stop. But Dan drives past the garden of land mines and right up beside the building to give us a personal view of the tragic violence that had destroyed one of Afghanistan’s most pristine buildings.  It had a gorgeous view of the city too, and you can see Dan in the background capturing the beauty that many of us (me included) often missed from Kabul, a city of more than dust.

Then back into the jeep and through the back streets with Dan telling stories of war that had happened on the barren streets, talking about the people who lived in the neighbourhoods, and his adventures that he spoke about with such a matter of fact way regarding the drama, that one wondered if he was being completely truthful.   I often suspected that some parts have been exaggerated, but his wife, whom I always trusted with the truth, would shock me with the same stories.

The reason so many people turned to Dan for advice regarding the country, was because he truly knew the people.  I could look down the streets and see dokhans  (shops)  and shopkeepers, but Dan would see what happens behind the back curtain.   He knew what daily life was like for these people and what their struggles were because he was always talking to them and listening.  Time and time again in his lively stories of the people he had met, he would call these men “Brothers,” and you knew he meant it.  His love for the country and enthusiasm to find new ways in serving the people, or doing something new and exciting, was evident every time you talked to him.  He always had some story to share about what he had seen and done.   His excitement was contagious, and it helped feed and encourage so many people, not least me.

Dan always showed  true devotion and agape love for the Afghan people.

Much love to the Terry family,

Sandra Slomp