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Qudamah
1405(?) - 1422 A.H.
(1983(?) - 2001 C.E.)
Page compiled and translated by Ramazan Rajaballi, Fremont, California, U.S.A.
Qudamah's final hour was captured on cam by approximately 53 spiders and 9 hovercams converging on coordinates 33° 45" N 67° 28" E. (Shah Maquud Mountains, northern Qandahar region.) Approximately 300 users watched in realtime as Qudamah died at 11:27 a.m. local (Qandahar) time. These photos I've assembled here were sent to me by spider teams from around the world. If you have any additional pictures of this incident please email them to me at ramazanr@aol.com. The audio tracks, from which I transcribed the dialogue here, were of course downloaded from SpiderShare.
The Location: A small refugee camp in the foothills of the Shah Maquud mountain range.. Ten women, fourteen children, and an apparent ex-Talib named Qudumah. How did he end up here among these women and children? Overheard dialogue suggests he murdered his former partner and joined the women to hide from the Taliban.
The camp was well secluded, protected on the east by mountains and on the west by a large Soviet era minefield. The group seemed to be subsisting entirely on American airdrops scavenged from the plateau to the north.
Hovercams began mapping their location at Sha'ban 27, 1422 A.H. (November 14, 2001 C.E.).
Spiders were dropped and began recording at 5 a.m. that morning. After SpiderNet users determined this was neither a Taliban nor Al Qaeda camp, a precision food drop came later that morning, around 10:30 a.m. local time.
All we know of Qudumah's life and death is recorded in the following hour of spider and hovercam footage.
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Drone of U.S. airplane overhead.
Boy reads from book:
Poles apart, I am the color of dying. |
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Qudamah: Idiots. You're dropping them too close.... |
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Qudamah: You probably think you're doing us a great favor, don't you? Allah save us from Americans with good intentions. |
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Qudamah joins the women who are harvesting the dropped spheres. Faiza, the
eldest woman of the group, is gathering up the contents of a "broken egg."
Faiza: Peace be with you, Qudamah. Qudamah: Peace be with you. Let me give you a hand. |
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Faiza: Beautiful day, isn't it?
Qudamah: Yes. A little too beautiful. These parachutes can be seen for miles, and they dropped them right on us. Might as well have dropped flares to tell the bandits where we are. Faiza: That last gang of bandits didn't get very far through the minefield. Qudamah: Insh'allah. The next gang might have a better map. Faiza: Then Allah save them from Zaafira's aim. |
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Qudamah: Zaafira. Why hasn't she come out of
the tent in the last 3 days?
Faiza: Her ulcer's bothering her. Look at this, Qudamah! Look what they sent us... Qudamah: Her ulcer. Faiza unwraps a hand-sewn quilt from its plastic bag and buries her nose in it. Faiza: Mmmmm... That smell! The smell of an American home. No piss, no gasoline... no smoke.. (She takes another deep snort.) That's the smell of a peaceful house! |
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Faiza: Go ahead, smell it!
Qudamah: I'd rather not. You know the U.S. government killed off the American Indians by giving them blankets saturated with smallpox. Faiza: That is such bullshit! (She snatches back the quilt. ) Did they teach you that in your madrassa? Qudamah: No, actually, I learned that in my first school -- the Sputnik Little Pioneers Academy in Qandahar. |
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Faiza: Ha! You poor boy. Raised by communists --
no wonder you're so
paranoid.
Qudamah: I'm not paranoid. I just don't trust anybody anymore. Except for you, of course. And the two or three other women here who don't actively want to murder me. Faiza: Some women just haven't gotten used to having a pet Talib around the camp. They've been bitten by a snake, and they're afraid of a rope. I assure you, nobody wants to kill you. Qudamah: Not even Zaafira? Faiza: She's actually said kind things about you. Especially the way you treat the children. |
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Qudamah: Really?
Faiza: Yes, it's the truth. Qudamah: I can trust you not to lie to me? Faiza: Nice try, Qudamah. If you're going to ask me about Zaafira's ulcer -- Qudamah: I'm not a child, Faiza. I want to know what's going on. Faiza: I know you have feelings for Zaafira, but, you've only known her for a few weeks. The rest of us have been friends for many, many years, and we consider our affairs private, like any family would. In other words, Qudamah, it's none of your business. They walk out of range. Conversation momentarily lost.... |
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They're joined by Rafa, who is carrying an Arab family magazine.
Rafa: Look! They sent us magazines. All the latest issues of Sayidaty, Al Majalla, Al Jadeeda... Qudamah: Which would be great if we spoke Arabic. Rafa: We can still look at the pictures. Qudamah: Yes -- especially the advertisements! Already they're dangling Western baubles in front of our noses. Rafa: They're trying to bring us into the world community, Qudamah. Qudamah: They just want eager workers for their pipeline! You think the oil companies will pay us enough to buy anything out of those magazines? You're dreaming! Faiza: Don't mind him, Rafa. He was raised by communists.
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Rafa mutters something unintelligible and walks off.
Faiza: You sure know how to make friends, Qudamah. Did it occur to you that maybe she was trying to strike up a conversation with you? Qudamah: That crap just depresses me. Afghanistan's going to become another Third World country, Faiza. We're going to work as slaves building the Turkmenistan pipeline. Our children will be paid (ten cents) a day sewing sneakers. And, if we try to organize, today's Taliban will come back as tomorrow's union-busting death squads. Faiza: The world lives on hope, Qudamah. And in the meantime you could try being less of an asshole. |
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They arrive at the camp and unload their bounty.
Under the shade structure, a girl reads more poetry by Rumi:
I am bewildered by the magnificence of your beauty |
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You have breathed new life into me. I have become your sunshine and also your shadow.
The women congregate around the shade structure
to gather the children for wudhu.
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A boy shouts: QUDAMAH! |
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Ghaazi, a 5-year-old boy, offers Qudamah a quilt.
Ghaazi: Qudumah! Faiza told me to give you this. She said you must be getting cold sleeping in the truck at night. |
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Qudamah: Thank you Ghaazi. I'm sure this
will keep me warm tonight.
Ghaazi: Why don't you just sleep in the big tent at night, Qudamah? It's warm in there. Qudamah: (laughs) Men don't sleep in the same room as women, Ghaazi. Ghaazi: How come? Qudamah: Because it's haram, you know? It just isn't done. Ghaazi: Why? |
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Qudamah: My young friend, do you know what "privacy" means?
Ghaazi: Yes! It means, the grownups want to be left alone. Qudamah: Well, yes.. but ... It's more than that. Privacy is a form of respect we pay each other. Privacy is a basic human right, second in importance only to the right to life itself. Ghaazi: So that's why you don't want to sleep with the women? Qudamah: Hmmm.... They walk out of range. Conversation momentarily lost.... |
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Qudamah:
"Do not enter houses other than
your own unless you have obtained permission and greeted their
inmates."
Ghaazi: You know the Quran good, Qudamah. Qudamah: You would too if you went to school in Pakistan. And there's Surah 49, verse 12: "Spy not on each other behind their backs. Would any of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? No, you would abhor that, so abhor the other." Ghaazi: Eew! |
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Ghaazi: But.... the truck is cold and
the tent's warm.
Qudamah: And Hell's hotter, Ghaazi. Ghaazi: I don't understand. Qudamah: The simplest explanation is: I can't sleep in the tent because the women don't want me in there. Ghaazi: That's not what I heard them say. Qudamah: What?! |
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A girl suddenly shouts: QUDAMAH! NASRI'S WALKING INTO THE MINEFIELD! |
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Qudamah: NASRI!! |
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Qudamah: What are you doing walking into the minefield?!
Nasri: I wasn't gonna walk all the way in. Qudamah: It's a minefield, you little lunatic! You don't know how far "in" is! Nasri: I was just looking at the spiders.
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Qudamah: Come on, let's get back to camp. It's almost
time for prayer.
Nasri: Don't you see the spiders, Qudamah? Qudamah: What are you talking about? Nasri: Look! Out there, in the minefield... Look!
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Nasri: You see? You see, Qudamah?
Qudamah: Maybe I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at. |
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Nasri: Look at the lights. There's lights and they're
flashing. Out there.
Qudamah: Let me dig out the binoculars... |
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Presumably Qudamah saw something like this: minesweeper spiders with their stalks extended, flashing their warning lights and repeating an audio warning in Dari, Pashto, English and Arabic. |
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More spiders crawled around the assorted wreckage. |
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Nasri: Qudamah, can I look too? |
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Nasri: Qudamah? |
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At about the same time, Bashira, on the northern lookout point, sees the first dust trail of an approaching SUV. She radios Qudumah to alert him. |
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Qudamah: Are they scouts?
Bashira: They're coming fast.... around the minefield... Like they know we're here. They're coming towards the camp, Qudamah. |
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Another voice breaks through on the radio, a male voice, barely coming through the
static.
Voice: Qudumah? Is that really you? Qudamah??!! A burst of laughter over the radio, male voices exchange words in Arabic. Qudamah: Commander? (We never find out what this man's name is. Qudamah only refers to him as "Commander." Presumably they know each other from the Taliban.)
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Commander: Yes Qudumah! We thought you'd defected
to Pakistan after
you murdered Saleem. Instead you've been hiding out in the mountains
with women and
children!
Qudamah: Leave us alone. We're armed. Commander: We're not here for revenge, Qudumah. We need all the help we can get now. The Americans have deployed a terrible new weapon against us. |
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Bashira: Qudamah... do you
want me to shoot them?
Another burst of laughter. Qudamah: No, Bashira... Get back to camp as fast as you can. |
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Commander:
Tell your women to put down their guns and behave themselves, Qudumah.
Qudamah: They're not "my" women. More laughter... Commander: You've been alone with ten women for over a month, and you still haven't whipped them into shape? What have you been doing all this time, Qudamah? |
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Qudamah: A lot of thinking.
He clicks off the radio. |
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Qudamah: START THE TRUCK! |
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Bashira has already returned and raised the general alarm. Well-ordered pandemonium breaks out. Children are loaded into the truck. Rifles are distributed to all the women. Most of the dialogue here is inaudible due to the general noise level. |
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Qudamah: Are we missing anybody?
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Qudamah: Faiza? Where's Zaafira?
Faiza: I'll stop the truck at the summit and wait 30 minutes. We'll pray for you. |
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Qudamah: DON'T LEAVE WITHOUT ZAAFIRA!
His voice is drowned out by engine as the old truck lurches into gear and rolls up the mountain road... |
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Qudamah: Zaafira? Why aren't you in the truck? A squad of heavily armed Al Qaeda soldiers is on their way! |
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Zaafira:
And you were going to stop them all by yourself?
Qudamah: I was going to drop the roadblock, and pray they're easily discouraged. |
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Zaafira: I've got my own prayer.... |
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Zaafira:
Dragunov SVD sniper rifle.
Killing range: three-thousand eight-hundred meters.
Amen.
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Qudamah: Where did you -- ?
Zaafira: I persuaded a nice Baluchi marauder to give it to me as a present. Come on, let's block the road already. |
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Qudamah:
Zaafira, please....
I don't want bloodshed. I can talk to these men.
Convince them to leave us alone. We can avoid a firefight.
Zaafira: You dickless dog! You'd let them rape my sisters, and use the children as human minesweepers? Qudamah: I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU DIE! |
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Zaafira: (stops, turns.) Qudamah -- haven't you put two and two together yet? |
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Qudamah: All I heard was, you have an ulcer.
Zaafira: I'll explain everything. Come on. |
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They stop again suddenly.
Zaafira: Why are those rocks speaking English? Qudamah: Some kind of American spy robots, I think. Zaafira: Do they explode? Qudamah: I don't know.
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Qudamah:
Save your bullets, Zaafira! There must be hundreds of them.
You were going to tell me what's wrong -- Zaafira: Nine months ago I was examined by an Oxfam doctor in Herat.... They walk out of range. Conversation momentarily lost.... |
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Conversation rejoined on the north hillside....
Zaafira:.... beyond the original prognosis. I've been using heroin to control the pain. My supply ran out 5 days ago. Qudamah: Did you suffer withdrawal? Zaafira: Yes. Qudamah: Are you in pain now?
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Zaafira: I'm not in pain. I am pain. And your friends are about to learn my name. |
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Qudamah: Wait! You're going to need help with that....
Zaafira levers a pile of large rocks, triggering a rockslide into the roadway below. |
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Qudamah: They have four wheel drive.
This won't slow them down for long.
Zaafira: Long enough. Qudamah: Zaafira, I have a confession to make. Zaafira: There's no time. I know already. |
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What happened here??? Did she kiss him?
Unfortunately I don't
have another screenshot of this moment.
Qudamah: Actually... I was going to confess, I've never killed a man before. I've blown up plenty of statues, but -- Zaafira: I trust you to protect the children. I'll take the south nest. Let's go. |
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Qudamah: Zaafira... Do you believe in the afterlife? |
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Zaafira: No. |
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Qudamah: (murmurs) Every atom turns bewildered.
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Qudamah climbs to the north sniper's nest. |
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Qudamah: Hello? Commander? Come in, Commander....
Commander: Qudamah! That you again? We can see your truck driving up the mountainside. My companions might not be in such a jolly mood if we have to chase you up the mountain to get it. Qudamah: Commander... I have a couple of very important things to tell you. If you'll indulge me for one minute..... Commander: Yes, fine, go ahead. (Laughter)
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Qudamah:
Five minutes ago, I was ready to die. I mean, I thought I was. But,
two minutes ago... I just kissed a woman for the first
time.
Several male voices laugh uproariously.... Qudamah: Don't laugh! I'm not ready to die just yet. Commander: Nobody's going to die, Qudamah. Tell us, where is this new girlfriend of yours? She with you now? |
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Qudamah:
She's very ill. I need to know if you and the Al Qaeda gentlemen are
moving any heroin today.
A flurry of curse words in Arabic.... Commander: (Inaudible.)... not even in the truck.... (Inaudible.) .... taught the bitches to drive. |
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Another voice on the radio,
an Arab voice...
Al Qaeda Guy: What are you doing teaching females to drive, young man? Do you remember what the Prophet said after he visited Hell? Two thirds of the screams in the fire were women! Qudamah: Maybe the men in Hell don't have enough sense to scream. Commander: Let's stop this silliness now, Qudumah. Be a man. Come on out and let's talk. Qudamah: Promise you won't shoot me. One Muslim to another. (Pause.) Commander? |
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Spider: They know where you are. |
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Qudamah flees, too quickly. His heels dig for traction... |
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... but his footing betrays him. |
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The object falling next to Qudamah is a spider. It is screaming apologies in Finnish. |
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A second grenade follows.
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Qudamah's last recorded words, 11:27 a.m. Qandahar time:
"There is no God but Allah, and Muhammed is His Prophet." |
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Spider: Ya-sin. By the Qur'an, full of Wisdom, thou art indeed one of the apostles, on a Straight Way. It is a Revelation sent down by Him, the Exalted in Might, Most Merciful..... |
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At the same time, an Al Qaeda soldier fires a light anti-tank rocket into Zaafira's
sniper's nest.
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The explosion triggers another rockslide, which falls on and presumably kills Qudamah (if he wasn't dead already). May Allah have mercy on his soul.
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Spider: .... So on Judgement Day no soul shall be dealt with unjustly in the least; and you shall not be rewarded aught but that which you did. |
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Spider: Surely the dwellers of the garden shall on that day be in an occupation quite happy. |
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Spider: They and their wives shall be in shades, reclining on raised couches. |
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Spider: They shall have fruits therein, and they shall have whatever they desire. |
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Spider: Peace: a word from the Merciful Lord. |
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At this point I entered the story. After frantic instant messaging and a couple of phone calls, I was patched into the nearest audio spider and was able to address Zaafira directly in Pashto: |
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Hello! Hello! Can you hear me? My name is Ramazan Rajaballi... I live in Fremont, California, U.S.A... I'm here to help you. |
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I have a complete first aid database at my fingertips, and three doctors are with me on instant messenger... |
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We're ready to offer you assistance. |
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| CLICK HERE to see a compressed movie of the preceding images (no plugin required) |
Epilogue: Zaafira took the Al Qaeda SUV and caught up with the camp truck at the summit. Their current whereabouts are unknown. When Turkish troops arrived to clear the road two weeks later, there were insufficient remains for Qudamah to be buried. |
In the name of Allah,
the beneficent, the merciful.Praise be to the Lord of the Universe who has created us and made us into tribes and nations That we may know each other, not that we may despise each other. If the enemy incline towards peace, do thou also incline towards peace, and trust God, for the Lord is the one that heareth and knoweth all things. And of the servants of God, Most gracious are those who walk on the Earth in humility, and when we address them, we say "PEACE." |
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is owned by Ramazan Rajaballi.
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