Today, we have a story of this wonderful world of kite flying. It's whimsical, it's fanciful,

but this is also a story of lost and preserved heritage, the things we hold onto when the rug

seems to have slipped from under our feet. If we look around today, a lot of the countries

that are around us in the region are plagued by

war. And things like intangible culture and heritage, they don't seem as important when you're

running away from danger. And that's understandable because when your focus is survival, the practice

of these traditions more often fall by the wayside,

even if they're the one thing that we hold on to when we don't have anything left.

It's September 1980. We're in Afghanistan in an area called Jalalabad, about 100 kilometers from the border of Pakistan.

There's a young, 18-year-old man getting down from one of those big container trucks,

and he hops down from the truck and starts walking towards the border.

And the only things he has on him are his pakul, a traditional woolen hat,

and in his pocket a piece of string from his kite.

And this man knows that he is never coming back.

He knew he was never coming back,

but what he didn't know was the significance

that this little piece of string

would have on the rest of his life.

I'm Hibah Fisher.

And I'm Rizan Al-Zayani.

And you're listening to Curning Cultures.

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