I have flown in and out of the civilian airport in Afghanistan many, many times.  Security will tell you it is probably the most vulnerable position for journalists and others as they leave Kabul.

One long road leading in.

But, I never felt at risk there.

In fact all the times I have been in the country I can't really remember feeling my safety was ever really severely in jeopardy.

Watching the chaos unfold at the airport, is simply brutal. It did not have to be like this.

The first time I went to Afghanistan, was 2002. U.S. forces had driven the Taliban out of the country, or underground. There was a real feeling of hope among many of the Afghans for the first time in decades.

We were out shooting a story on top of a mountain, in the shadow of an old British fort. While we were there, an Afghan came charging out of the building with an AK-47 screaming at us.

My photographer who had been in a lot of hostile environments didn’t even flinch. He just kept doing his job. Our Afghan driver, who had fought against the Taliban for years boldly strode up and slapped the gunman. Mind you, our driver did not have a weapon.

He said, "What are you doing – the only reason we have peace in our country right now is because of the Americans, and now you threaten two Americans! I should kill you!"

The gunman, tail between legs, cowered back inside.

It really showed me that many people who had been fighting their entire lives had such hope and such support for the U.S.

Such an opportunity to bring some semblance of peace to a country that has really become a metaphor for misery.

In contrast, nine years later I went back to live in Afghanistan for a year working as a diplomat for the U.S. Embassy.

One of the U.S. grantees was taking books to Kandahar, under a program to promote literacy among adults.

To deliver the books, the grantee and myself went to Kandahar, a long-time Taliban stronghold.

Once there, we had to ride in five huge up-armored vehicles protected by at least a dozen U.S. soldiers just to deliver the books. 

It was a heart-warming moment in the end. The officer in charge took off his helmet and went in and greeted the Afghans in the reading program.

One Afghan told me it was the first time he had ever seen an American without his military helmet.

I left thinking, "If the U.S. has to take armored vehicles and a host of soldiers to promote something as peaceful as reading... will this ever work?”  

Fast forward to 2019.

I went back, as a reporter for CGTN and did a few stories on what women stand to lose if the Taliban is embraced in a power sharing agreement.

The stories were tragically prophetic.

Twenty years of hard fought freedom for women and girls is now in jeopardy.

Now the people I spoke with in 2019 are calling and emailing me, asking me to help get out of the country.

I feel helpless.

I have contacted my old State Department colleagues and they are truly doing everything they can help. But at the end of the day I can make no promises that these Afghans will be able to leave the country safely.

What happened in the last 20 years???

Afghan Corruption.

Unrealistic and changing expectations by presidential administrations.

A ton of U.S. money thrown at the problem.

And, U.S. troops at risk day-in and day-out, with an Afghan military that really never had the desire to take the fight to the Taliban.

I wish it wasn’t ending this way.

I wish I could go back to 2002, to an Afghanistan full of hope and promise.

Watching this tragedy play out now, is just gut-wrenching.

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