my own photos. I
really think that’s what kept me out of trouble all of my teen years. I had
friends who were doing drugs but I would only smoke pot, drink a few beers. I
wasn’t into frying my brain.”
Ty sat there holding his Rose, to think she had smoked
pot. Merciful heavens, as his mother would say. “To think, you smoking pot, and
I was trying to shield you from the opium in Afghanistan.”
Rose started laughing, “It’s not like I was a hard
core drug user, just once in a while.”
Ty gave her a squeeze. “I know, I know it’s just,
well, not you.”
“What’s me? What image do you have of me, or had of
me, before you knew me?”
“Well when I first got wind of you and your work, I
thought good lord, another Leroy. Your work is a lot like hers in many ways. You
convey something when you are shooting. The very essence of the life they are
in at that moment. It’s like you could walk right into that photo and pick up
where you left off. The photo of the child holding his dying mother up in the
north of Afghanistan was heartbreaking. I cried when I saw that.”
Rose nodded “I was bawling as I shot the pictures. We
came upon them and the ambush and we already knew she wouldn’t make it. I was
crying and my translator and the Northern Alliance soldiers were saying in the
background, ‘There is nothing we can do, it’s Allah’s will Little Sister, don’t
cry....’ I was crying for the child.”
“What happened to that boy?”
He told us he had relatives in Kabul so we kept him
with us after we buried his mother. He seemed to grow up over the next couple
days. I keep in touch as best as I can and send funds so he can go to school. I
told him not to go in the army. Learn, get an education, which can change the
world better than a rifle.”
Chapter 11
Ty kissed Rose’s head and pulled her in closer. His
Rose, changing the world one person at a time. He had known she liked Leroy’s
work, admired her, but was glad she wasn’t like her in some of her ways. Leroy
was a tough cookie on the field, no nonsense. She swore like a sailor, or worse,
and she had quite the libido. Thank goodness Rose wasn’t like that. Rose had
worked in areas that were really off limits to women but because of her sweet personality
she had been accepted after a given time and protected like she was a treasured
sister or wife. The Northern Alliance had called her Little Sister. They had
beaten a Taliban man who had made the wrong remark after being captured. If it
hadn’t been for Rose they would have cut his throat. These battle hardened men
would go to any lengths to get what she needed. He saw that when she lay sick and
he had feared for her life. She lay for days taking barely anything in, not
able to keep anything down. The men would travel for miles to get some little
ingredient, even if it meant that they went through dangerous territory or
without. They would have killed for her.
That had been the catalyst of their trouble in Banda
Aceh. There he had worried over her again. She still didn’t look strong but she
had refused to slow down. She had tried to shoulder the responsibilities of
helping, along with shooting pictures and writing. She got hardly any sleep and
hardly ate. Said the stench turned her stomach, said she’d be fine.
The sickness came on so quickly. They had been back to
work for a couple of weeks, having taken a rest in Pakistan. They had finally
been able to go work up in the north, out away from any towns or help. If they
needed to get out quick it would have to be with a helicopter. It was also the
beginning of November. It was cold and snow was on the ground. Rose didn’t say
it but Ty knew she was cold all the time.
The first day Rose slept longer. Ty was up, knocking
at her door. They had to be extra careful here, in a house populated by
Northern Alliance troops, all hardened warriors of General Ahmmad Shah Masood.
They were in the most sacred place of the Northern alliance. The house
really think that’s what kept me out of trouble all of my teen years. I had
friends who were doing drugs but I would only smoke pot, drink a few beers. I
wasn’t into frying my brain.”
Ty sat there holding his Rose, to think she had smoked
pot. Merciful heavens, as his mother would say. “To think, you smoking pot, and
I was trying to shield you from the opium in Afghanistan.”
Rose started laughing, “It’s not like I was a hard
core drug user, just once in a while.”
Ty gave her a squeeze. “I know, I know it’s just,
well, not you.”
“What’s me? What image do you have of me, or had of
me, before you knew me?”
“Well when I first got wind of you and your work, I
thought good lord, another Leroy. Your work is a lot like hers in many ways. You
convey something when you are shooting. The very essence of the life they are
in at that moment. It’s like you could walk right into that photo and pick up
where you left off. The photo of the child holding his dying mother up in the
north of Afghanistan was heartbreaking. I cried when I saw that.”
Rose nodded “I was bawling as I shot the pictures. We
came upon them and the ambush and we already knew she wouldn’t make it. I was
crying and my translator and the Northern Alliance soldiers were saying in the
background, ‘There is nothing we can do, it’s Allah’s will Little Sister, don’t
cry....’ I was crying for the child.”
“What happened to that boy?”
He told us he had relatives in Kabul so we kept him
with us after we buried his mother. He seemed to grow up over the next couple
days. I keep in touch as best as I can and send funds so he can go to school. I
told him not to go in the army. Learn, get an education, which can change the
world better than a rifle.”
Chapter 11
Ty kissed Rose’s head and pulled her in closer. His
Rose, changing the world one person at a time. He had known she liked Leroy’s
work, admired her, but was glad she wasn’t like her in some of her ways. Leroy
was a tough cookie on the field, no nonsense. She swore like a sailor, or worse,
and she had quite the libido. Thank goodness Rose wasn’t like that. Rose had
worked in areas that were really off limits to women but because of her sweet personality
she had been accepted after a given time and protected like she was a treasured
sister or wife. The Northern Alliance had called her Little Sister. They had
beaten a Taliban man who had made the wrong remark after being captured. If it
hadn’t been for Rose they would have cut his throat. These battle hardened men
would go to any lengths to get what she needed. He saw that when she lay sick and
he had feared for her life. She lay for days taking barely anything in, not
able to keep anything down. The men would travel for miles to get some little
ingredient, even if it meant that they went through dangerous territory or
without. They would have killed for her.
That had been the catalyst of their trouble in Banda
Aceh. There he had worried over her again. She still didn’t look strong but she
had refused to slow down. She had tried to shoulder the responsibilities of
helping, along with shooting pictures and writing. She got hardly any sleep and
hardly ate. Said the stench turned her stomach, said she’d be fine.
The sickness came on so quickly. They had been back to
work for a couple of weeks, having taken a rest in Pakistan. They had finally
been able to go work up in the north, out away from any towns or help. If they
needed to get out quick it would have to be with a helicopter. It was also the
beginning of November. It was cold and snow was on the ground. Rose didn’t say
it but Ty knew she was cold all the time.
The first day Rose slept longer. Ty was up, knocking
at her door. They had to be extra careful here, in a house populated by
Northern Alliance troops, all hardened warriors of General Ahmmad Shah Masood.
They were in the most sacred place of the Northern alliance. The house