Thank God it's Kabobs Day - The Power of a Promise

Qalat, Afghanistan – 2007

JP's introduction to the cost of service came on a routine patrol.

An IED. One American soldier killed. One interpreter, Abdul, killed beside him.

"They faced the same threats we did," JP said. He served as Senior Enlisted Advisor on an Embedded Training Team from July 2007 to July 2008, working with the 2nd Kandak, 2nd Brigade, 205th Corps, Afghan National Army.

But Abdul's death wasn't the end of his family's nightmare. It was the beginning.

"Our interpreters notified us that Abdul's wife was scared because his family was trying to make her marry his brother against her will," JP recalled.

Through international aid connections, they managed to help her reach safety in Germany.

It was the first rescue. It wouldn't be the last.

The Promise

Every Sunday in Qalat, JP and his team would head to the interpreter camp.

Fresh kabobs. Hot naan. Stories about Afghan culture, family dynamics, and how to work effectively with their Afghan Army partners.

"The best part of working with these interpreters was how they helped us understand the culture so much better," JP said. "They educated us through stories of their experiences and made us feel welcome through stories about themselves, their adventures as interpreters, and their struggles with getting to understand the crazy Americans they worked with."

Tawfiq had a saying for those Sundays - "Thank God it's Kabobs Day."

Those meals were one critical piece of the foundation of bonds that would stretch across continents and span nearly two decades.

"The most important part of all this was how it connected us as individuals," JP said. "Beyond going on patrols or working with the Afghan Army, we shared meals with them, which was a highlight of our time there."

JP came home in 2008, but his interpreters' war was just beginning.

The Fight Begins

Habib was the senior interpreter when JP arrived in Afghanistan. They managed to help him get a safer job in Kabul. When COVID hit in early 2020 and Habib was stranded right before his flight to the US, JP fought to keep the door open. A few months later, Habib and his family finally made it out. He's been in the United States for several years now.

Mohammad fled to Pakistan due to Taliban threats, but his visa was expiring. His story

became a bureaucratic nightmare. At least five SIV denials and appeals before JP and others finally figured out the issue with his packet and got it approved.

But by then, the US embassy in Kabul had shut down.

"We needed to get him and his family to Pakistan to get an interview," JP said. "After many months and huge donations via GoFundMe, we finally were able to help him get Pakistani visas for all six family members and get them across the border where they eventually got into No One Left Behind guest housing."

Even then, nothing was easy. Just as Mohammad's interview was completed, CARE and USCIS were shut down, making travel to the US even harder.

"Finally, thanks to the efforts of NOLB, he got to take his family to the Pacific Northwest and is adjusting to life in the US," JP says.

Tawfiq's story reads like something out of Kafka by way of the Taliban. His shop was raided. He was arrested on bogus charges. He got out of jail. He was arrested again, this time for playing music. He got out again and fled to Qatar.

He now lives on the west coast.

The Ones Still Waiting

"To this day I am still working with some of my other interpreters," JP said.

Hamid made it to the United States. His wife is still trapped in Afghanistan.

Rahman is still in Afghanistan with his family.

For 17 years, JP has been fighting this fight. Some wins. Some losses. Some still hanging in the balance.

Why It Matters

"Getting our interpreters to the US is a critical mission," JP said. "Our credibility as a nation is reflected in how we treat our allies and the promises we made to our interpreters must be upheld."

He thinks about Abdul. The interpreter killed on that routine patrol in 2007.

"We lost an interpreter alongside one of our own because they faced the same threats we did. But they and their families also faced threats from the Taliban who continue to this day to find those who worked with the US and our allies in order to punish them."

The Taliban's memory is long. The bureaucracy is slow. The window is closing.

"It's difficult, especially now, to help the thousands of remaining interpreters in Afghanistan," JP said. "But we are duty bound to keep fighting this fight for them, and for ourselves."

The Power of a Promise

Somewhere on the west coast, Tawfiq is building a new life.

In the Pacific Northwest, Mohammad's six family members are adjusting to American schools, American winters, and American freedom.

Habib has been here for years now.

Hamid is here, but his wife is not.

Rahman is still waiting.

JP is still fighting.

Because a promise made over Sunday kabobs in Qalat, Afghanistan is so much more than a memory.

It's a debt. A moral obligation. A reflection of who America claims to be.

They were brothers.

And America doesn't leave brothers behind.