By Mellissa Fung
In October 2008, Mellissa Fung, a reporter for CBC's The nationwide, was once leaving a refugee camp outdoors of Kabul while she used to be abducted via armed males. She used to be pressured to hike for a number of hours during the mountains until eventually they reached a village; there, the abductors driven her in the direction of a gap within the flooring. "No," she stated. "I am unlikely down there."
For greater than a month, Fung lived in that gap, which used to be slightly tall sufficient to face up in, nursing her accidents, praying and writing in a computer. lower than an Afghan sky's the gripping story of Fung's days in captivity, surviving on cookies and juice, from the 'grab' to her eventual unlock.
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Additional resources for Under an Afghan Sky: a Memoir of Captivity
I see you back. ” He crawled up the tunnel and disappeared. Shafirgullah positioned the wood door over the doorway, coated it together with his blanket, and we braced ourselves for the avalanche of dust. while it used to be over, we once more dusted ourselves off. “You, biscuit? ” he requested. I shook my head. He reached into the dust-covered plastic bag and pulled out a brand new sheet of Afghan bread and a silver pouch of juice, no longer in packing containers this time. I peered into the bag and observed that the chocolate cookies were changed in most cases with the more cost-effective fruit-flavoured creme-filled style. there have been six pouches of juice: cherry, apple, pomegranate. I took out a pomegranate pouch. It used to be tart but candy, and chilly. Shafirgullah provided me a few nan-i-Afghani. I tore a nook off and chewed. i wanted I had anything to dip it in—some dal, or hummus, or curry, something with a bit protein and a bit extra flavour. I enjoyed Afghan bread, yet consuming it chilly and simple, i spotted it used to be simply because I enjoyed every thing else that sometimes got here with it. a number of days sooner than I left the bottom, a bunch people had long gone into Kandahar urban to rearrange my flight to Kabul. Paul was once there, along with his remarkable cameraman, Al; and their fixer, Jojo; and Sameem, who was once the CBC’s neighborhood motive force and cameraman. I loved those journeys to town, because it was once an opportunity to get off the bottom and consult traditional Afghans. And an opportunity to consume genuine nutrition, which used to be regularly premiere to the tasteless stuff served within the cafeterias on the base, the place we ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner virtually each day. i guess it was once dicy, yet Jojo had prepared lunch in an area eating place the place he knew we’d be secure. The eating place used to be on a chief highway within the centre of Kandahar urban. The facade of the development regarded too rundown for me to visualize that it used to be a spot that served foodstuff. i used to be donning my scarf, as I continually did on those journeys, and we hustled in, attempting to be as inconspicuous as attainable. Our Afghan fixers spoke to the managers and we have been led right into a small room in the back of the eating place, empty with the exception of pillows scattered all through. waiters unfold a tablecloth at the ground, and we sat down opposed to the pillows. They introduced us yogurt beverages and disbursed a flat of bread for every people, in addition to many dishes: radishes and peppers, a highly spiced and saucy meat stew, and rice. The stew was once served at the bread. It was once so delicious—the sauce subtly flavoured and the beef delicate. Any matters I had approximately cleanliness or getting ailing quickly disappeared. Then the lighting went out and my middle stopped. What the hell was once occurring? no one stated a observe, yet we have been all pondering a similar factor, conscious—as always—that we have been foreigners out in a urban that wasn’t secure. simply as without notice because the lighting fixtures had long past out, they got here again on. I checked out Paul. He checked out me. Al persevered to consume. It used to be only a brownout, ordinary during this a part of the area, and particularly this state, yet for a couple of seconds, my center had skipped a couple of beats. Now, i used to be consuming bread in digital darkness back, other than this time I had no stew to dip it in, and no pals to proportion it with.