Lebanese owner who died defending Kabul restaurant
"This is the kind
of attack in Kabul that horrifies and hurts in equal measure"
Kamal Hamade made the best chocolate cake in Kabul, the best Lebanese food and, he thought,
the best evacuation plan.
But the plan wasn't
good enough to save him and others who died with him when the Taliban attacked
his Taverna du Liban restaurant tucked away in a quiet street of one of the
Afghan capital's oldest neighbourhoods.
But his safety
measures did save many lives.
And Kamal is reported
to have grabbed a gun from his office to take on his assailants. He was shot
dead defending his beloved restaurant.
I would not have
expected him to act any differently. His Taverna had come under attack before.
He always told me he had his gun at the ready to help defend his patch and the
people who made it the special place it was.
When some of his staff
were arrested a few years ago in a local dispute, Kamal insisted on going to
jail with them because he thought his presence would get them out more quickly.
It worked.
“Start Quote
Kabul is bleeding -
and so is my heart”
Bilal SarwaryBBC News,
Kabul
Every time I visited
him in Kabul, he proudly produced his latest new recipes prepared by his Afghan cooks, and the Lebanese
chefs he persuaded to join him in the Afghan capital.
And he often showed me
the extra measures - more doors, more guns, more rules - to keep pace with the
growing list of security requirements from foreign and Afghan organisations.
Dark omen
Across social media,
Afghans and foreigners - who were treated to his hospitality - mourned his
passing with sadness and shock: for him, for Afghanistan.
Kamal's ebullient
spirit was forged in his native Lebanon, his brushes with danger and intrigue
in places like Baghdad and Kabul.
His warm and ready
smile was the mark of a wandering soul who made his home in places where people
often lived on the edge and wanted a place to forget that.
As well as the fatalities, a number of people were injured in
the attack
In a tragic twist, his
Lebanese friend, the 60-year-old IMF resident representative Wabel Abdallah,
also died that night. I often saw them together at the restaurant, reminiscing
about the land they left and the place they now called home.
Hours after the blast,
details were still emerging of who had perished during what was meant to be a
relaxed evening out in Kabul eating the best of Lebanese fare.
Kamal did everything
possible to make his Taverna restaurant a home away from home for many Kabul
residents.
Whatever food you
ordered, he brought double the amount. And when he joined your table, he also
brought compelling tales to share.
One night I invited
him to join us to discuss a film we were planning on a famous Kabul roundabout
that, for centuries, was a focus group for kings and courtiers. In Dari they
called it Akbar-e Sar-e Chowk - the news from the roundabout.
It was Kamal who suggested,
with his trademark chuckle, that we include the most modern way to find out
what was happening - the white surveillance blimp, the eye in the sky bobbing
above the presidential palace.
My BBC colleague in
Kabul, Bilal Sarwary. said the Taliban attackers did their own research before
their attack. Police told him they arrived with "maps, dates, and energy
drinks" for a "very organised and well-planned" operation.
When they blasted
through the double metal doors, they also destroyed a little of the hope that
Kabul can always be the safe inviting place Kamal Hamade wanted the Taverna to
be.
In a momentous year
meant to measure the strength of Afghan security and stability, it was a dark
omen that a precious light in the city had been snuffed out.
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