The Forgotten Spaceman: A Story of Hope, Exile, and the Power of Memory
Have you ever stumbled upon a piece of history so fascinating yet so overlooked that it makes you question what else we’ve collectively forgotten? That’s exactly what happened to me when I learned about Abdul Ahad Momand, Afghanistan’s first—and only—cosmonaut. In 1988, he became the first Afghan to venture into space, making Pashto the fourth language ever spoken beyond Earth. Yet, his name remains virtually unknown. Why?
A Cosmic Achievement Overshadowed by Conflict
What makes Momand’s story particularly fascinating is its timing. Just as he was making history, Afghanistan was on the brink of civil war, a conflict that would soon force millions into exile. Personally, I think this juxtaposition is more than a coincidence. It’s a metaphor for how Afghanistan’s achievements—its science, culture, and potential—have been buried under layers of conflict and exile.
One thing that immediately stands out is how Momand’s journey was not just a scientific milestone but a symbol of hope. Imagine a nation on the edge of chaos, and here’s a man representing their dreams, literally reaching for the stars. Yet, as the war unfolded, his story was pushed to the margins. What this really suggests is that history often remembers the tragedies more than the triumphs, especially when those triumphs come from nations the world prefers to define by their struggles.
A Personal Discovery Turns Universal
When I first discovered Momand’s story, I was shocked. How had I, an Afghan filmmaker, never heard of him? I asked my family, my cousins, my friends—and they were just as stunned. This wasn’t just a forgotten piece of history; it was a missing link in our collective identity.
What many people don’t realize is that stories like Momand’s are not just about the past; they’re about who we are today. As I dug deeper, I found a photo of Momand in my family’s archives. That photo became the cornerstone of my film, Forgotten Spaceman. It wasn’t just a documentary about a spaceman; it was a journey into my own heritage, my family’s past, and the broader narrative of exile and memory.
From my perspective, this film is a testament to the power of personal stories to reveal universal truths. Momand’s journey from space to exile mirrors the experiences of millions of Afghans who left their homeland. It’s a story of loss, resilience, and the things we carry with us—like language, culture, and memory—when we’re forced to leave home.
The Shadows of Colonialism and the Weight of Memory
If you take a step back and think about it, Momand’s story is also about the shadows of colonialism and the way certain narratives are silenced. Afghanistan’s history is often reduced to war and violence, but that’s not the whole picture. The country has a rich legacy of poetry, science, and art—a legacy that has been overshadowed by decades of conflict.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Momand took the Quran with him into space and spoke Pashto. It’s a small act, but it speaks volumes about identity and belonging. Yet, after his historic mission, he ended up in exile, working as an accountant in Germany. This raises a deeper question: What does a nation lose when its brightest minds are forced to leave?
In my opinion, the West’s short memory has contributed to this erasure. Afghanistan is often portrayed through a lens of violence, but stories like Momand’s remind us that the country is so much more. As filmmakers from the diaspora, I believe it’s our duty to reclaim these narratives and show the world a different side of Afghanistan.
Music, Memory, and the Language of Home
One of the most striking aspects of Forgotten Spaceman is its use of Afghan music. I structured the film like a music album, with each act anchored by a different song. These weren’t just random choices; they were songs I grew up with, songs that connected me to my roots.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how music becomes a bridge between the past and the present. It’s a way to evoke memory, to transport the audience to a time and place they might not know. For me, it was also a way to honor my mother tongue, Pashto, which Momand spoke in space. The film’s original title, Hershewe Fazanawerd, is in Pashto—a deliberate choice to celebrate a language that has often been marginalized.
Looking Ahead: Legacy and Collaboration
As Forgotten Spaceman premieres at the Locarno Film Festival and heads to Toronto, I’m excited to see how audiences react. This film isn’t just about Momand; it’s about all of us who carry the weight of exile and the hope of a better future.
Personally, I think this story has the potential to be expanded into a feature film. It’s an epic tale of achievement, loss, and resilience—themes that resonate far beyond Afghanistan. But for now, I’m grateful for the incredible collaborators who brought this project to life. From the composers to the sound designers, every person involved helped create something truly special.
If you take away one thing from this, let it be this: history is not just about the past; it’s about who we are and who we can become. Momand’s story is a reminder that even in the darkest times, there’s always room to reach for the stars.
