My Guantanamo Diary by Mahvish Khan

Mohammad’s letter to Paul.
    “I work for you,” he said to Taj with a smile.
    “What benefit is it for you to help me?” Taj asked suspiciously. “What do you get out of it?”
    Paul explained that not all Americans agreed with the actions of their government and said that he wanted to help Taj receive a fair hearing and get him released one day.
    Taj was having none of it. “You’re really here because you want people to see you as a big lawyer who represented the famous Guantánamo detainees, right?” he said.
    This back-and-forth continued for a while. It was difficult for Taj to conceive of why an American whose government had declared Guantánamo detainees a threat to U.S. national security would want to get involved.
    “Is this going to help your business when you tell people you freed a man from Guantánamo?” he challenged Paul again.
    Taj’s quick wit and efforts to shock amused me. He didn’t bother trying to be polite, like the other Afghans, and he didn’t sugarcoat anything.
    “I don’t think a lawyer can get me out of here,” he declared. “A lot of detainees have been released without the help of any attorney.”
    But he listened as Paul explained why it was beneficial to have an attorney. Without one, he would be hidden from the world, subject only to the U.S. military. “An attorney is like chicken soup,” Paul said, looking for a metaphor. “It can help you to have one, and it’s definitely not going to hurt you.”
    Finally, Taj relented and began to ask questions about his habeas petition.
    “Is the judge on my case a man or a woman?”
    “Your judge is a man.”
    Taj held two thumbs up and broke into a smile.
    “What do you have against women?” I blurted. In spite of myself, I felt annoyed at his display of glee over not having a female judge.
    “Nothing,” he said. “I like women, but no one listens to a woman.” And he gave me a grin.

    Taj had been arrested in late 2002. Although he hadn’t been formally charged, the U.S. military accused him of associating with the Taliban and al-Qaeda and of taking money to attack a U.S. base. Taj maintained that it was all nonsense. He was a goatherd on a mountain, and watching his goats took up all his time, he said.
    Taj didn’t believe that he’d been sold to the U.S. military by bounty hunters or political opponents. The real reason he was arrested and brought to Guantánamo, he said, was simple: he had a temper.
    He told us his story. The houses in his village didn’t have access to running water, and the U.S. military was trying to help out. His cousin, Ismael, was employed by the Americans and was responsible for setting up the waterlines.
    “He gave every house in the village a water pipe, except mine,” Taj said.
    It was Ramadan, the month of fasting, and he had just returned from a short trip out of town. When his mother told him what had happened, Taj went to confront his cousin, whom he found smoking a cigarette. When he inquired about the water, Ismael curtly told him to ask the Americans about it.
    The two started arguing and soon began fighting.
    “I got a stick, and I beat him over head,” Taj said. “His head started bleeding.” Villagers pulled the two men apart. Ismael shouted at his cousin, saying that he would have him reported to the Americans.
    “He said he was going to make sure I was sent to Guantánamo,” Taj told us. “Everyone heard him.”
    After the brawl, Taj walked home, not thinking much about Ismael’s threats. But four days later, a group of Americans with Afghan interpreters came to his house late at night and woke him up. They questioned him about attacking his cousin. Then, they searched his house, tied his hands, and took him to the nearby military base, where he was put in a room for the night.
    “I slipped my hands out of the cuffs and went to sleep,” Taj said, smiling.
    He figured Ismael would get over his anger and tell the U.S. soldiers to let him go the next day. When he