Afghanistan map. / ShutterstockCrowds of Afghans gathered at the gates of Hamid Karzai International Airport in August of last year, searching for a way out of the soon-to-be Taliban-run government.
Women, interpreters, musicians, Christians, and other religious minorities were among the throngs, all aware of what was about to befall them under Taliban control. According to an Open Doors Report, Afghanistan will become the most dangerous area for Christians by the end of 2021.
While initial efforts to rescue thousands of the country’s estimated 13,000 Christians were mainly successful, thousands more landed on “lily pads” — temporary landing spots on military posts or at safe houses in neighboring countries — across the Middle East.
Some of the lily pads have been depleted, and Afghan refugees have been resettled in the United States, Albania, and Brazil. According to those attempting to assist them, Afghan refugees, including Christians, are effectively stranded in other areas due to legal, bureaucratic, and financial reasons.
“Their bright visions of a welcoming new life have darkened as they receive contradictory messages from various authorities, or worse — no messages at all,” said Lela Gilbert, an adjunct fellow at the Center for Religious Freedom and the Hudson Institute who was involved in several Afghanistan rescue cases.
“They’ve endured months of COVID quarantines. They’ve heard false but frightening rumors about being sent back to their country of origin. They have virtually no control over their future,” Gilbert added.
The Taliban’s swift takeover of Afghanistan added to the turmoil of evacuation operations. The images of Abbey Gate outside the Kabul airport before and after the destruction caused by a suicide bomber are well-remembered: babies handed over barbed wire, bodies falling from jet wheels, and images of Abbey Gate outside the Kabul airport before and after the destruction caused by a suicide bomber.
Thousands of individuals who were fortunate enough to flee now face a tough situation since they did not have time to go through the legal formalities required to permanently relocate somewhere else.
As a result, many Christians and other refugees are now clinging to overcrowded lily pads that are sinking.
Semper Fi
In August of 2021, Sarah Teske, a Harvard graduate, single mother of two, and former marine, became involved in the evacuation operations, first for Americans stuck in Afghanistan and subsequently for at-risk Afghans.
She is now in charge of a resettlement program in Pakistan for Christians and other religious minorities. She does it in collaboration with two other nonprofits in the region: Shai Fund and the Vulnerable People Project, both of which work to provide humanitarian aid to refugees and internally displaced people who are victims of disasters ranging from war to natural disasters.
Teske had planned to deploy to Afghanistan with her Marine unit after 9/11, but women were forbidden from combat engagements in Afghanistan until 2013.
Teske suffered with survivors’ guilt, asking God why she trained for Afghanistan but didn’t go, and she resorted to her faith, which was developed by her background and local Catholic school.
“And I always wondered, you know, what if it would have just been me, you know, instead of them,” she said about her fellow marines who died in combat in Afghanistan.
However, getting people out of Afghanistan and away from the Taliban was only the beginning.
The second phase has proven to be equally difficult, as many organizations struggle to raise the funds and other resources needed to shelter, feed, and safeguard refugees in legal limbo.
“Fast forward to when Afghanistan fell in August. I just had it in my heart that perhaps God was preparing me for something bigger.”
According to Teske, that something bigger would be her involvement with Afghanistan at the end of the war rather than the beginning; an experience that would require her 23 years as a marine, but also as an operational planner and strategist, as well as her extensive network within the military, Department of State, corporate world, and geopolitical contacts in other countries.
“When Afghanistan fell, I had it on my heart to kind of lean in and be part of a solution rather than turning our backs and saying there’s nothing we can do,” Teske said. “That wasn’t acceptable to me, so like many, many, many, many countless veterans we all leaned in to make it right to change the trajectory of history, and that’s kind of become my role and my mission and my passion.”
She immediately began working as the strategic director for the Human First Coalition, then assisting Pineapple Express, Sanctuary, and other paramilitary operators evacuating Americans, Christians, and other vulnerable people from Afghanistan.
“So I was leveraging my network with the Department of State teams and agency teams that were on the ground to basically ask for personal favors,” said Teske about her initial involvement.
“I was …able to geolocate them, give them their points and get them pulled. I also had contact with Marines that were at the gates and teams that were at the gates, so I was calling them directly, giving them identifying markers to pull people out and bring people to safety.”
According to Teske, that launched her into the rescue operations field with numerous groups who eventually each began to focus on one area on the ground— some providing safe houses, other evacuations, others food.
But even as various NGOs and nonprofit organizations were developing niche operations, the world’s attention was about to shift.
‘We had 72 hours’ notice’
Getting people out of Afghanistan and away from the Taliban was only the first hurdle, however.
The next phase has proven just as complex, as many organizations struggle to come up with the funding and other resources to shelter, feed, and protect refugees stuck in legal limbo.
“The rescue is sexy, right?” said Teske. “But how long can you afford to keep them alive before they’re sold as slave laborers? Or they’re sent back to Afghanistan or extradited?”
That possibility became reality for 250 Afghans last week when Jason Jones, who heads the humanitarian charity Vulnerable People Project, was given 72 hours’ notice that an organization providing safe housing for refugees in Pakistan was folding due to insufficient funds.
“We had 72 hours notice that we had 250 people that were going to be let out onto the street sent back to Afghanistan and probably be killed, so my team and I began to prepare to move them,” said Jones, who ultimately partnered with Teske in the move.
She handled the logistics while he tackled the fundraising — an overwhelming task when lives are a stake.
“Death is on the line. I had to raise $31,000 in 72 hours,” said Jones, who says it costs roughly $6,000 to resettle each refugee after the costs for safe houses and food for months are calculated.
The unexpected demise of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working with Afghan refugees is nothing new. The Vulnerable People Project worked with roughly 12 different groups at the start of July 2021, a figure that has since shrunk to less than half.
While these organizations cheered the initial evacuation of migrants, long-term relocation challenges emerged, and funding for these activities dried up. Some humanitarian groups have totally ceased operations.
“When Ukraine went to war all eyes went only to Ukraine and it dried up the interest of potential donors and currently contributing donors,” Teske explained. She added that the single greatest help that can be given at this point is the resources that can help these exiles find a permanent solution.
Jones agreed, noting that his company donates $10,000 to Ukrainian shelters every four days. It also helps 7,000 Afghans who are vulnerable both inside and outside the country, he said. Some 500 of them hold special immigrant visas (SIVs), allowing them to eventually resettle in the United States. The others will have to find another place to stay.
“I always tell people that fundraising is like digging a hole with a spoon. No one is good at it and it stinks,” Jones said. “Grab a spoon and start digging.”
Persevering to the end
Teske learned on May 25 that 250 people were in danger of being extradited to Afghanistan, where they would undoubtedly face torture and death. As a result, she took out a bridge loan, a short-term loan that would be repaid as soon as permanent financing from a firm or investor could be obtained, in order to pay the bills that needed to be paid right away to keep her relationships alive.
The Shai Fund and the Vulnerable People Project, both committed to bringing Afghan refugees to safety, came in to assist her with funding.
“Until I can move them on to a third country and they can stand up new lives for themselves, I am dedicated and 100% will be walking hand-in-hand with these people until we get them safe,” said Teske, who regularly tells her children, ages 5 and 8, they will “have their mommy back one day.”
Youngest son Asher knows his mother is engaged in important work. A recent worksheet filled out in advance of Mother’s Day at his school asked the five-year-old “What is your mom really good at?” His response: “saveing refu-gs” (sic). He also noted that his mother, who often stays up nights in addition to working days to coordinate projects across the Middle East “on hre fon (on her phone),” likes to relax by sleeping.
Jones, whose organization is paying to provide security for girls to attend school in Afghanistan and has funded wells and medical clinics for women there, also remains committed to the cause. “I tell my team we’re never leaving the people of Afghanistan. We don’t do big things, we do small things …and that’s what saves lives.”
Teske, whose life became intertwined with Afghanistan after 9/11, thinks the work is preventing another 9/11. According to her, “It’s not just about saving lives, it’s about changing the trajectory of history.”