Mine rejser til Afghanistan begyndte for mange, mange år siden ved mit lands østlige grænse, mit hjemland, Polen. Jeg gik gennem skovene fra min bedstemors historier. Et land, hvor hver mark gemmer en grav, hvor millioner af mennesker er blevet deporteret eller dræbt i det 20. århundrede.
My travels to Afghanistan began many, many years ago on the eastern border of my country, my homeland, Poland. I was walking through the forests of my grandmother's tales. A land where every field hides a grave, where millions of people have been deported or killed in the 20th century.
Bag ødelæggelsen fandt jeg stedernes sjæl. Jeg mødte ydmyge folk. Jeg hørte deres bønner og spiste deres brød. Siden har jeg gået mod øst i 20 år -- fra Østeuropa til Centralasien -- gennem Kaukasusbjergene, Mellemøsten, Nordafrika, Rusland. Og jeg mødte hele tiden flere ydmyge folk. Og jeg delte deres brød og deres bønner. Det er derfor, jeg tog til Afghanistan.
Behind the destruction, I found a soul of places. I met humble people. I heard their prayer and ate their bread. Then I have been walking East for 20 years -- from Eastern Europe to Central Asia -- through the Caucasus Mountains, Middle East, North Africa, Russia. And I ever met more humble people. And I shared their bread and their prayer. This is why I went to Afghanistan.
En dag krydsede jeg broen over Oxusfloden. Jeg var alene til fods. Og den afghanske soldat var så overrasket over at se mig, at han glemte at stemple mit pas. Men han gav mig en kop te. Og jeg forstod, at hans overraskelse bestod i min beskyttelse.
One day, I crossed the bridge over the Oxus River. I was alone on foot. And the Afghan soldier was so surprised to see me that he forgot to stamp my passport. But he gave me a cup of tea. And I understood that his surprise was my protection.
Så jeg har gået og rejst, til hest, med yakokse, med lastbil, ved at blaffe, fra Irans grænse til bunden, til kanten af Wakhankorridoren. Og på denne måde kunne jeg finde noor, Afghanistans skjulte lys. Mit eneste våben var min notesbog og mit Leica. Jeg hørte sufiernes bønner -- ydmyge muslimer, hadet af Taleban. Skjult flod, indbyrdes forbundet med mysticismen fra Gibraltar til Indien. Moskeen, hvor den respektfulde fremmede bliver badet i velsignelser and i tårer og budt velkommen som en gave.
So I have been walking and traveling, by horses, by yak, by truck, by hitchhiking, from Iran's border to the bottom, to the edge of the Wakhan Corridor. And in this way I could find noor, the hidden light of Afghanistan. My only weapon was my notebook and my Leica. I heard prayers of the Sufi -- humble Muslims, hated by the Taliban. Hidden river, interconnected with the mysticism from Gibraltar to India. The mosque where the respectful foreigner is showered with blessings and with tears, and welcomed as a gift.
Hvad ved vi om landet og folket, som vi påstår at beskytte, om landsbyerne, hvor den eneste medicin til at slå smerten ned og stoppe sulten er opium? Disse er opiumafhængige folk på Kabuls tage 10 år efter vores krigs begyndelse. Disse er nomadepigerne, som blev prostituerede for afghanske forretningsmænd.
What do we know about the country and the people that we pretend to protect, about the villages where the only one medicine to kill the pain and to stop the hunger is opium? These are opium-addicted people on the roofs of Kabul 10 years after the beginning of our war. These are the nomad girls who became prostitutes for Afghan businessmen.
Hvad ved vi om kvinderne 10 år efter krigen? Indsvøbt i denne nylonpose, lavet i Kina, med navnet burka. Jeg så en dag Afghanistans største skole, en pigeskole. 13.000 piger, der studerer her i lokalerne under jorden fyldt med skorpioner. Og deres kærlighed [til studierne] var så stor, at jeg græd.
What do we know about the women 10 years after the war? Clothed in this nylon bag, made in China, with the name of burqa. I saw one day, the largest school in Afghanistan, a girls' school. 13,000 girls studying here in the rooms underground, full of scorpions. And their love [for studying] was so big that I cried.
Hvad ved vi om dødstruslerne fra Taleban, der er sømmet på dørene til de folk, der vover at sende deres døtre i skole som i Balkh? Regionen er ikke sikker, men fyldt med Talebanere, og de gjorde det.
What do we know about the death threats by the Taliban nailed on the doors of the people who dare to send their daughters to school as in Balkh? The region is not secure, but full of the Taliban, and they did it.
Mit mål er at give en stemme til det stille folk, at vise det skjulte lys bag det store spils gardin, de små verdener, der bliver ignoreret af medierne, og den globale konflikts profeter.
My aim is to give a voice to the silent people, to show the hidden lights behind the curtain of the great game, the small worlds ignored by the media and the prophets of a global conflict.
Tak.
Thanks.
(Bifald)
(Applause)