Crowds of Afghans gathered at the gates of Hamid Karzai International Airport in August of last year, hoping for a way out of the soon-to-be Taliban-run government.
Women, artists, interpreters, Christians, and other religious minorities were among the crowd, all aware of what was about to befall them under Taliban control. According to an Open Doors Report, Afghanistan would become the most high risk 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” across the Middle East.
Some of those lily pads have been emptied and Afghan refugees resettled in the U.S., Albania, or Brazil. But in other places, the Afghan refugees, including the Christians, are effectively stranded for legal, bureaucratic, and financial reasons, according to those trying to help them.
Lela Gilbert, an adjunct fellow at the Center for Religious Freedom and the Hudson Institute who was involved in several Afghanistan rescue cases said that “Their bright visions of a welcoming new life have darkened as they receive contradictory messages from various authorities, or worse no, messages at all”.
“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 continued.
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 cannot be forgotten wth babies handed over barbed wire, bodies falling from jet wheels.
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.
In August of 2021, Sarah Teske, a Harvard graduate, single mother of two, and former marine, became involved in the rescue operations, first for Americans trapped in Afghanistan and subsequently for endangered 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.
Teske believes her training for Afghanistan, as well as her internal conflicts over not fighting with her friends, have taken on new meaning now that she is retiring from the Marine Corps after 23 years of service.
“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 stated. “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 started as the Human First Coalition’s strategic director, then aided Pineapple Express, Sanctuary, and other paramilitary operators in evacuating Americans, Christians, and other vulnerable people from Afghanistan.
According to Teske, this led her into the field of rescue operations, where she worked with a variety of organizations, each of which eventually specialized in one area on the ground, such as providing safe houses, evacuations, or food.
However, the world’s attention was about to shift, even as many NGOs and nonprofit groups developed specialised activities.
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.
“The rescue sexy right?” Teske ased. “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?”
Last week, that possibility became a reality for 250 Afghans when Jason Jones, the executive director of the humanitarian organization Vulnerable People Project, received 72-hour notice that an organization providing secure accommodation for refugees in Pakistan was closing owing to a lack of money.
“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,” Jones said, who eventually joined with Teske in the move, said. She took care of the logistics while he focused on the fundraising, which is a daunting undertaking when lives are on the line.
“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 collapse 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 added. She went on to say that the most important assistance that can be given at this point is resources that can assist these exiles in finding a lasting 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,” said Jones said. “Grab a spoon and start digging.”
When Teske learned on May 25 that 250 people were in danger of being extradited back to Afghanistan, where they would likely face torture and death, she took out a bridge loan, a short-term loan that would be repaid as soon as permanent financing from a company or investor could be found, in order to pay the bills that would keep her contacts 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 5 and 8 years old children that they will “have their mommy back one day.”
Jones, whose organization is funding wells and medical clinics for Afghan women as well as providing security for Afghan girls to go to school, 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,” he says.
After 9/11, Teske’s life became entwined with Afghanistan, and she believes the effort is averting another 9/11. “It’s not just about saving lives,” she says, “it’s about changing the trajectory of history.”