Walking the Walk: 9 Months in Afghanistan

Bittersweet

2007-05-26T12:16:00.000-07:00

People keep asking me what my plan is once I return home - I swear it feels like I'm finishing undergrad again. And yet, it feels even more lame now than then to say - I don't know. I really, honestly have no idea what comes next. In some ways it is very liberating, and in others absolutely terrifying.

Another thing people keep asking is how I feel about leaving Afghanistan. I am thrilled to be going home, at least for a while, but I suspect I'm going to get itchy feet pretty quickly. Will I miss Kabul? I'm not sure. I'll certainly miss Nathan, and the sense of purpose that I had while here. I will definitely not miss the airplanes and helicopters flying low enough to make the floorboards shake. If I'm honest, I suppose I will miss the 'get out of jail free card' that I feel like I have here - things that I haven't dealt with or have been put on hold can't wait anymore. Betsy has a saying - only missionaries, mercenaries, misfits and the broken hearted work in places like Afghanistan. It's not that I've been running away from anything in particular, but it is nice to be 'away' sometimes...

work stuff

2007-05-16T06:46:00.000-07:00

The last six weeks or so have been ridiculously hectic. The head of the gender department turned in her resignation, I spent two weeks in the provinces and the gender strategy that we've been working on for the last few months is finally starting to take shape.

When W turned in her resignation I was asked to delay my vacation again until the end of July. What could I say? It was obvious we were in a bind, so I agreed. Then, W changed her mind at the last minute and decided to stay. This made things awkward, to say the least. I can't really get into it in a public forum, but management kept changing their minds about what to do with me - so I made the decision for them. I'll be coming home in a few weeks - for good. Or, at least until I find my next job... I'm sad to be leaving the project because I've really put a lot of time, energy and creativity into it, but the work environment was getting uncomfortable to the point that I wasn't enjoying my work anymore. And lets be honest, if you don't like your job here it's not like your social life will make up for it.

Yesterday we ran an all day workshop for our staff, sharing the findings from the gender strategy and working together to find solutions for some of the major gaps. I'm really happy with the way it turned it - it was my first time really designing an all day workshop, and my sessions went extremely well. It's frustrating when W takes credit for my work, but I know what I've done, and I've learned to let other people know as well...

So, I'll be home in June. I have some money saved up and I'm kinda looking forward to taking a break. I'm sure that won't last very long; I'll start getting nervous about my lack of employment and stir-crazy in the family house, but at least the idea is nice for the moment. I am looking for jobs now, but I'm not feeling very motivated. I think I need a break - maybe after some time and perspective I'll have a better idea of where I want to be, whether that's in the US, the Middle East or back in Afghanistan.

Herat

2007-05-05T02:32:00.000-07:00

Ansari Shrine

Me, at Ismail Khan's mujahadinn guest house

Blue mosque at sunset

Inner courtyard of Blue Mosque

Minaret of the Blue Mosque

Entrance to the mosque

War movies, fireworks and reverse culture shock

2007-04-25T09:39:00.000-07:00

Tonight I watched Mrs. Henderson Presents. I’d had a frustrating day at work, and I felt like vegging out to a movie. The movie is about a lot of things, and it is set during WWII. During the movie they were showing brave young men in uniform, air raids on London and other war symbolism. While I was watching, I was listening a helicopter, and then a plane, flying low over my house. I couldn’t help but think about the way we romanticize war in the west, and how different it is for people who didn’t have young men in uniform, who didn’t have bomb shelters to retreat to but were caught in the same war. And of course, I think about the Afghans, and 20 years of war without the romanticism and pop culture making all their young men and women who died heroes.

I find war movies have a different effect on me now than they used to. I’m not living in a war zone, not by any means. But it wasn’t long ago that the neighborhood I live in was complete rubble, and my coworkers lived through that experience.

A few nights ago there was a huge firework display to celebrate the anniversary of the mujahaddin running the Soviets out of Afghanistan. I wonder if there will be a similar celebration to celebrate when the Americans leave. I was listening to the pop-pop-pop of the fireworks, and I figured they were fireworks from the sound at first. But as it continued, and got louder I became more tense. Then there was some machine gun fire (also celebratory) and one of my roommates flew out of her room in a panic. So, we made some phone calls and found out what was going on, and then watched the fireworks from one of our windows. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy fireworks the way I did when I was watching them in Gypsy Hill Park in Staunton on the 4^th of July.

Lately I’ve been having the most disturbing dreams – from dreaming that I’m in Beirut during an air raid to being locked up in jail with my boss as my jailor. I assume these dreams are my subconsciousness’s was of dealing with the stress of being in Kabul during the spring Taleban offensive. Don’t get me wrong, it really hasn’t been bad, but when you get 4 or 5 security reports a day about things exploding and people dying or being kidnapped, even if it isn’t in your city, I suppose it wears on you.

I can’t help but wonder how much I’ve changed during my 8 months here, and how it will effect me when I go home – whenever that is. How difficult will it be for me to readjust to the American lifestyle? Will I want to? I guess I’ll get a taste when I go home for vacation in May or June. I imagine the reverse culture shock will be, well, shocking.

Mazar-e-Sharif

2007-04-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

Spring in the desert - Mazar is famous for its April flowers

Me, in a bed of tulips

The famous shrine, called the Rosa3, at sunset

Entrance to the shrine

Pigeons...they say that all the pigeons that visit the shrine turn white

The drive to Mazar was beautiful, and about five hours after leaving Kunduz we arrived in the famous desert city. We stayed in a hotel that looked like a cross between the ultimate Afghan wedding palace and an amusement park - but at least it had air conditioning, and the wedding hall was in a separate building (not directly above our rooms).

I spent most of my time in Mazar in the city visiting partner organization and talking to them about their views of our program - what they like, what they'd like to change, etc... it was interesting. We did drive out to the desert to see the wild tulip beds, and we went the the shrine at sunset the day before we left and the following morning. It was HOT. While we were at the Mazar I got labeled as a Kharijee (foreigner) for trying to take pictures inside the shrine/mosque. I've never been in a mosque where you weren't allowed to take pictures, including the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Oh well, first they tried to kick me out completely, assuming that if I wasn't Afghan then I couldn't possibly be Muslim, but we convinced them to let me stay. I've also never been in a mosque that did not allow non-Muslims to enter, except during prayer times.

After a quick stop at the office we headed to the UN airstrip in Mazar to catch our flight back to Kabul. Now, these little airstrips are exactly what I used to envision for airports in the Congo - just a small building and a runway. The flight back was uneventful and my five day escape from Kabul ended too quickly. Luckily, I'm scheduled to head to Herat fairly soon, so I'll get to see the western most part of the country before I leave.

Road Trip to Mazar-e-Sharif

2007-04-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

After we finished our work in Kunduz we took a 5 hour road trip to Mazar-e-Sharif, and these are some pics from the trip.

Kunduz - Part 2

2007-04-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

Street traffic in Kunduz city center

Private home in Kunduz - check out the size of the door.

Illiterate women use drawing to express their daily tasks and community problems
at a Kunduz women's shura

Usually, women and kids are in charge of gathering water. Most homes don't have running water - or even access to clean drinking water.

Kids outside of one of the women's shuras

Today didn’t start out too auspiciously – the wedding celebration ended around 12:30, only to be followed by about 90 minutes of cleaning and rearranging the wedding hall, directly above my bed. Every time I dozed off before 2:30 a loud bang or the shreek of metal scraping on metal would jerk me awake.

After downing a cup of coffee and some nan we headed over to our partner’s office to begin the day with a 3 hour interview for our gender strategy. It was an interesting process since our strategy consultant speaks Urdu and Pashto and the people we were interviewing spoke a mix of Pashto and Dari. She needed translation for the Dari speakers, and I needed it for everyone since no one spoke English. Needless to say it was a frustrating process, especially since my translator was by no means fluent in English.

Oh, and around 9am a bomb went off at the local police station, just blocks away from our hotel. Unofficial reports say that 9 people were killed and 20-some injured. Apparently it’s the first bomb in Kunduz city in a long while – guess we brought more baggage with us from Kabul than we thought.

After our interview we headed out of town to visit a women’s shura in a small village just outside of Kunduz. A shura is a community organization, sort of like a town council, but more informal. The villages are dusty paths bordered by a warrens of mud brick walls about 6ft tall. We pulled over on one of the roads, walked down a narrow lane through a wooden door and then climbed through two mudbrick rooms before reaching the women’s meeting room. This time there was no one to translate for me – of course they were translating for the strategy consultant and she could have translated for me, but like many others I’ve met here she doesn’t seem to think it’s terribly important to share information. So, through tidbits of Arabic words, body language and the occasional word translated for me I gathered that the women had started their own embroidery co-op, were holding basic literacy courses for women and had taught themselves how use mobile phones. They had also created a map of the village and labeled all the streets and buildings to help the women get around, which gives you an idea how often these women get to roam around the villages they were born in.

The rectangular meeting room walls were covered in poster paper the women used to create community appraisals of problems, the roles of men and women in their community, their problem identification lists and embroidery patterns. While we sat on low cushions on the floor and the women talked about their organization kids peaked in through the one window, climing on top of each other to get a look at the kharijee (foreigners). After we left that shura we visited a second one the next village over that was very similar in set-up, wall decorations and issues. Apparently they thought that we had come to solve their problems (i.e. give them money) so I’m afraid our visit was a little disappointing, but it was very interesting. Of course, it would have been more interesting if I had understood what was being said at the time.

Next we visited a conflict resolution program funded by my organization. Many of these women were members of different shuras, but in this project they come together to talk about problem solving within their families and communities. It was great to watch the women, many of whom are illiterate and had little opportunity for schooling in their lives, become animated as they participated in the discussions.

Kunduz

2007-04-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

View from the Faisalbad airstrip

Wild tulips just outside of the Kunduz airport

Let me begin by saying that the UN people have it made. Flying out of Kabul airport is generally a chaotic, frustrating nightmare. BUT if you are flying on a UN flight, you get to bypass the main terminal completely, and while you still have to deal with the creepy Afghan security women who think searching your body for weapons consists of feeling your breasts, the rest of process is painless. Hell, there’s even a place to smoke while you wait for your flight, not to mention a bathroom with a real toilet that isn’t scary as hell.

There is no direct flight to Kunduz from Kabul, so we stopped in Faisalbad on the way. The plane that carried us on our journey was an 18 seater, every seat being a window seat. The rickety little plane really wasn’t any better than the Kam Air or Ariana flights, although the words United Nations were painted across the wing as a kind of talisman of security. As we flew into Faisalbad, all we could see below us was snowcapped peak after peak of the Hindu Kush.

The Faisalbad airport was little more than an airstrip with a few buildings and some armored vehicles, but the landscape surrounding it was stunning. It’s late spring here, and everything was green and lush, with little white and yellow flowers sprinkled all over. After a 10 minute break, we continued on to Kunduz. We flew at a lower altitude this time with the landscape changing from green, khaki and brown patches of earth of blue, burgundy and salmon colored mountains. When we finally landed in Kunduz, it was HOT. I know that I traveled about 7 hours north of Kabul (in a car), but it is much warmer here than the capitol. As we drove away from the airport, again everything was green and lush, but this time the flowers sprinkled in were red – wild tulips grow everywhere here.

After checking into the Kunduz Hotel, which looks like a public high school but is tiled like a swimming pool, we stopped by our partner’s office to introduce ourselves and then went to visit one of my organization’s grant project. Next, we drove around the “city” which looks like something out of the 19^th century except for the occasional all glass building artfully placed between mud brick huts. We stopped at the best place in town for ice cream, which was cardamom flavored and quite yummy, but I’m sure I’m going to regret eating it tomorrow.

Now, I’m sitting in my moderately clean hotel room listening to the music pounding from the wedding that is taking place directly above me. I’m kind of itchy, and I’m hoping it’s from how hot and sweaty I got today, and not from bed bugs…As a funny side note, one of the security guards (yes, we’re traveling with security guards) knocked on my door a few moments ago with a sheet and stapler. My room is on the ground floor, facing the front of the hotel and apparently men were trying to see in where the curtains part and don’t stay shut. So, thoughtful man that he is, he stapled a sheet to the curtains to keep them closed and prying eyes out. Only in Afghanistan….

Too Close for Comfort

2007-04-06T01:08:00.000-07:00

At 8:15 this morning a bomb went off on Daruleman Rd, just blocks from our current staff house, and directly in front of our old house. The bomber killed himself and four Afghans, including the police officer who stopped the car because it seemed suspicious. Apparently there was a loud boom and all the windows shook - of course, I slept right through it...

This is the second bomb in our neighborhood in two weeks - and we're on the quiet side of town. I guess being close to the Parliament building doesn't help. I assume the Parliament was the target because the cop stopped the car just a block before it. We're on lock down today because there are so many checkpoints set up all over our neighborhood after the explosion, which is unfortunate because I had plans to meet a friend for brunch. Hopefully they'll let us out tonight, but I think we'll be locked down for 24 hours.

In other news, I'm scheduled to travel to the provinces in the coming weeks to meet with our Afghan NGO partners. I'm super excited about getting out of Kabul - I've been here for 7 months now and the only place I've visited is Jalalabad. The trip will be touch and go based on the security situation, especially since 5 NGO workers were kidnapped in Helmand yesterday. Seems like I'm playing wait and see in all parts of my life these days...

Little Earthquakes

2007-04-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

Me and the Kuwaiti family at the airport

Well, maybe not so little, but relatively minor in Kabul. I guess it was a 6.2 on the richter scale in Badakshan (northern Afghanistan) but in Kabul the ground only shook for about 2 minutes. Long enough for everyone to run out of the buildings and watch the satellite dish tremor. Then it was back to work as usual.

Speaking of work - I turned down the regular staff position offered to me by my NGO. I was ready to stay, but the position they finally offered me was not what I originally negotiated. In the end I decided it would be a smarter career move for me to look for something elsewhere, where I don't have battle intern syndrome. Intern syndrome, for the uninitiated, is when you've interned for an organization and they continue to think of you that way, even after you've proved yourself to be a quality, hardworking employee over and over. So, I've extended my consultancy contract until mid-May to get things in order - then I'm off to new adventures. There is a chance that my NGO will counter offer with something better, but at this point I'm inclined to look for something new. We'll see what happens...

I went to Kuwait for a weekend at the end of March. It was great to see my Dad and Lujein, and Abdulla was visiting from the US, so it was even better. I had a nice time with my Kuwaiti family (nice than usual, to be honest) but I was glad it was a short weekend. I got a lot of comments about how it's time for me to be married off to nice Kuwaiti man... ack!

Otherwise, I've had a nasty cold, which is part of why I haven't blogged in a while. Also, our internet connection has been beyond sketchy. Hope you all are doing well...

Women's Gathering

2007-03-16T06:57:00.000-07:00

Thursday afternoon, 1 week after International Women's Day, Tilly invited all the women from our office over to our house for a 'party,' but really it was a dialogue about women's issues in Afghanistan. It was really interesting to listen to the women talk about their families, the support or resistance they face from them about working, some of the things they did during the Taleban regime - or didn't do. One of the women talked about how they managed to arrange med school classes for a group of women in Herat, in spite of Taleban restrictions. Another admitted her secret dream to learn Tai Kwon Do.

We held the conversation in a mixture of English and Dari, with different women translating at different times. At first only the bilingual women would speak (although I insisted on constant translation) but by the end all the women were contributing, albeit with some encouragement. One of the women who is a housekeeper at the other staff house said that she works because there aren't any men in her family, but that she loves working and is glad to have the opportunity. Our office cleaner, a fun spunky woman, said that her in-laws talk about her because she refuses to wear the burqa and she works outside of the home, but that she doesn't care. Her husband is an actor, and she said her children also wanted to study acting, but she couldn't let her daughters because of the gossip and problems when they lived in the refugee camps in Pakistan.

Overall, it was a very successful event, and I think we're going to start doing it monthly. It was nice to be able to interact with my co-workers in a more personal way. I've had a very difficult time bridging that gap with most of them, even though I've been here for six months now. I can see I have a lot to learn from them...

NGO worker Killed

2007-03-08T12:04:00.000-08:00

Today a German aid worker was killed in Sar-e-Pul province. He was with 3 Afghan NGO staff in a two car convoy when they were held up by robbers. The robbers took the valuables, then let the Afghan staff go. The took the international NGO worker behind a rock and shot him twice.

My thoughts and condolences go out to his family, friends and coworkers.

Police don't seem to think that the attack was from the Taleban. One of the things that is not reported on enough is the increase in criminal behavior in Afghanistan. Areas that aren't controlled by the Taleban, and where there is little government presence are becoming increasingly anarchic.

NATO Bomb Kills 9 Afghan Civilians

2007-03-05T10:37:00.000-08:00

Today US NATO forces dropped 2 bombs on a family's compound killing 5 children, 3 women and 1 man, all of the same family. NATO forces claim they dropped the bomb after 3 men who had been launching rockets at a PRT (Provincial Reconstruction Team) base ran into the compound. Of course, this is after yesterday's ISAF disaster when 10 Afghan civilians were killed by US troops when they opened fire after a suicide attack. Yesterday, the body count was 16, but today it has dropped to 10. Interestingly, the ISAF troops confiscated journalists cameras and deleted footage after yesterday's shooting outside of Jalalabad.

Thousands of people protested after yesterday's disaster, but things seem to be fairly quiet after today's civilian death toll. The calm before the storm? Tribal leaders from the districts effected by yesterday's shooting are coming to Kabul to meet with Karzai about the event on Saturday - rumor has it that demonstrations will hold off until the results from the meeting are know. If the results aren't satisfactory to the tribal leaders, violent protests are expected...

I heard that the UN declared "White City" today in Kabul - the second time since I've been here. This means UN staff are on restricted movement. Another rumor says that 25 suicide bombers have infiltrated Kabul city, and that their target is ministry buildings. I didn't leave my little neighborhood today, but co-workers said police and military were out in force today. The ministries are off limit for our staff until after tomorrow.

The tension is rising in Kabul, but it isn't anywhere near the feeling in the city Friday before last, when everyone was expecting violent protests. International forces are clinging to a slippery slope, and the events of the last few days have made their footing even more treacherous. Hopefully things will be quiet tomorrow.

International Troops Kill 16 Civilians

2007-03-04T10:28:00.000-08:00

One of my co-workers is a Pakistani man who travels on Jalalabad Rd from Kabul to Peshawar fairly often. He was on his way back to the office today with our new gender strategy consultant when all hell broke loose on the road. Apparently a suicide bomber in a minivan tried to drive into an American ISAF convoy of 3 humvees. There was an explosion, and one soldier was injured. Then the troops opened fire on one of the busiest highways in Afghanistan, shooting indiscriminately at civilians in cars and on foot, according to Afghan witnesses.

Al-Jazeera reports that 16 civilians were killed and at least 24 were injured in the shooting. The ISAF soldiers claim they were caught in a crossfire, but witnesses say there was no attack aside from the suicide bomber. One Afghan man lost 5 members of his family today.

My coworker and the new consultant (this is her first trip to Afghanistan) were on the road, but far enough back that they were caught in the traffic jam instead of the gun fire.

Protests swept through the districts neighboring the incident, with hundreds of people in the street shouting, "Death to America, Death to Karzai."

I feel bad for the ISAF soldiers - most of them are younger than I am, and scared to death, not that they'd admit it. All it takes is one person to pull a trigger for the entire situation to fall apart. That said, the international troops are supposed to be here to make the situation better, not worse. Rumor has it that ISAF is going to close the road between Pakistan and Afghanistan for a few days until things calm down. Interestingly, the area where the suicide bombing happened is an area that has been experiencing the ISAF poppy eradication programing. Something worth pondering...

Mucking about in Kabul

2007-03-03T05:44:00.000-08:00

Darleman Palace

New exhibit at the Kabul Museum

New paint job

Old train on the museum grounds

Anthony in the museum car graveyard

Building on the west side of Kabul

UNICEF tents - this is a school just outside of Kabul

Anthony and Leon

Qarghas Lake

This kid was trying to get me to give him money for burning incense near me - I took his picture instead

The western edges of Kabul were hit really hard during the mujahadeen wars, and a lot of it hasn't been rebuilt yet.

Driving back into the city - leftovers from the 10th of Mahram

Today I went over to HOPE Worldwide for lunch. There's a bit of a back story to this - on my way back to Kabul at the end of my vacation I got stuck in Dubai for an extra night because Ariana Airlines decided not to show up in Dubai for my scheduled flight (they sent their plane to Delhi instead). While spending the entire night in the airport waiting for the flight that would never come, I met Leon, a Briton who was on his was to Kabul for the first time to do a few weeks worth of volunteering with the HOPE organization.

We teamed up and figured out the bureaucratic morass together, and booked flights on a different airline for the following day. I went over to HOPE for lunch on Wednesday, and we made plans to do a little exploring today. This afternoon I went over for lunch again, and then Leon, Jason and Kelly (recently arrived from the US), Anthony (Australian) and myself headed out to Darelman Palace and the Kabul Museum. After that we drove out to Lake Qargha (still my favorite place to visit) and mucked about in the mud. Our driver decided to drive, or slide rather, right to the shore of the lake. There were a few sketchy moments where I wasn't sure we were going to make it back up to the main road, but the four wheel drive won out in the end.

All in all it was a great weekend - dinner with Cory last night, exploring today. I even got up early and did some work before my afternoon adventure. It's amazing how much better I feel after getting out for a bit...

It looks like this month and next month are going to be extremely hectic at work, so my posting may decrease (even more than it already has). We'll see - of course I'll post if anything eventful happens...

Vacation Pics

2007-02-23T09:55:00.000-08:00

I've posted a bunch of pictures from my holiday, and I'll let them tell the story. I had a great time - it wasn't very 'restful' but it was exactly what I needed. I got to walk a lot, join in political protests in Beirut, see firsthand the damage from the Israeli bombing of Lebanon, explore Damascus and spend time with friends and family. There is one part of the story that is missing - my camera wasn't working when I went to Dahiya, the suburbs of Beirut. The damage I saw there was more overwhelming than anything I've ever seen - even 6 months after the fact. I wish I could share those images with you...

Dubai

Amal and I at breakfast

The hotel I stayed in in Dubai

On the way out of Beirut - heading south

Rebuilding a bombed out bridge just outside of Beirut

Valley

Hizballah flag at the top of Fort Beauford in southern Lebanon - a strategic spot that has been controlled by the Lebanese, Palestinians and Israelis at different points.

Marcy and I took a wrong turn and ended up in an area with cluster bombs. The road was clear, but the red and white tape marks dangerous areas.

poster warning civilians about cluster bombs

Private home in Southern Lebanon

Sunset - we had to move fast because the roads were too bad to drive after dark

Children playing in the rubble

Southern Lebanon - there used to be a house behind this gate...

Mosque in Southern Lebanon

Damascus - One of the oldest covered souq's in the world

A khan in the old city. Khan's are places were merchants would stay overnight

This is where unprepared women go to get a brown cloak that covers their hair and bodies before entering the mosque. I looked like one of the sand people from Star Wars...

Courtyard view

Courtyard of Al Ummayed Mosque

Woman praying inside the mosque

Mosque interior

Storyteller at a traditional Damascus coffee house

Minaret

View from a Damascus rooftop in the Old City

Bob, my host and guide in Damascus

The interior (and I do mean interior) of a beautiful Damascene style home, in the old city

Beirut
Lebanese citizens returning from the rally on February 14, the anniversary of Hariri's assassination

Balloon with a picture of Hariri

The wrecked building in the background is where Hariri was assassinated

Girl holding the Lebanese flag

Minivan full of patriotic young Lebanese guys

Enormous lebanese flag, with the Hariri mosque in the background, Martyr's Square

Billboard of Condi - the part you can't see has a snake. In arabic it says, "I am Condi" under both pics...

Hizbollah encampment next to the Parliament. They are demanding a new government.

Demonstrations

2007-02-23T01:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was extremely tense. We kept receiving security emails warning us about the demonstration scheduled for today. Each email was more urgent than the one preceding it. It started with notification of a peaceful demonstration, and a recommendation not to travel around the city today. Next came a suicide bomber warning because of the demonstration - the more people gathered in one place, the bigger the bang, so to speak. Then we started getting notifications that the former warlords were busing in supporters from the provinces, and that the demonstration could have between 30,000 and 300,000 participants - many of whom would be armed. Movement restrictions for us were moved up, our lockdown began yesterday at 6pm instead of today.

We took some security precautions besides staying in which I won't detail here, picked up a case of beer and settled in for a long night. We heard rumors that the UN and US government staff were preparing for evacuation if necessary. We talked about grab bags (pre-packed bags in case of emergency evacuation) although none us have bothered to do that. Nathan, Scott and I stayed up late watching movies, and the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was check the news and my email. There was nothing about any of this on the international news. I guess it's only a story is something blows up.

Text messages were flying between internationals all morning, and there has been a lot more air traffic than usual. I hate hearing the airplanes flying low - it creeps me out even though I know they are international planes. The demonstration is over now, and initial reports say about 35,000 people attended. Nothing has happened so far, although we are under lockdown for the rest of the day. I'm relieved, of course, but also frightened by how quickly the environment changed. Practically overnight my feelings about security here went from tolerably unstable to scary as hell. My boss described today as feeling like we are in the eye of hurricane - things are happening at an alarming pace all around us, even though it is quiet where we are. The worst part is the feeling of helplessness. We are dependent on other people to provide us with information, to protect us and to get us out if necessary. Of course, I'm lucky. As an expat and as non-essential staff, I'll be one of the first evacuated in the situation gets too unstable - our Afghan staff won't.

Waiting for Spring

2007-02-21T10:58:00.000-08:00

Two days after returning to Afghanistan, I went to the ISAF base with Betsy to talk to them about selling Women of Hope products there weekly. We took a public taxi (which I was informed later by my boss is completely off limits in the future) and drove through the city. It had seemed like spring was approaching before I left, but Tuesday proved us wrong with dark gray skies and slushy snow. We stopped at a traffic light, not because the light was working but because traffic was backed up, and I was looking out the window, as usual.

I saw an older man, he looked to be in his late 60s but was probably only in his 40s, lying on his side on the sidewalk. A dirty turban was wrapped around his head and he was wearing lightweight pants and had a thin sheet thrown over him. His eyes were closed and he was rocking back and forth a little, his mouth stretched wide as he moaned. As he rocked the sheet slipped down to expose the nub where his left arm should have been. He skin was stretched so tightly across his thin frame it looked as if his bones would break free at any moment. Pedestrian traffic continued on the sidewalk around him, although I could see that kind Afghans had left money on the ground in front of him.

I can't get the image out of my mind.

Eventually the street unclogged and we continued to the base. While we were waiting for our military escort, Betsy picked up a copy of the ISAF newsletter to read. The lead story was about how ISAF had underestimated Taliban capabilities and that they are anticipating the spring to be the worst since 2001.

You can feel the tension in the denseness of the air. Attacks have been picking up in regions outside of Kabul and we are all waiting for the spring to reach us in the mountains. Four rockets were fired into the Jalalabad Road area of Kabul last week - aiming for a military base and getting pretty close, I guess. My NGO upped our security restrictions and we're talking about having a lock down on Friday. I guess the Mujaheddin are going to protest on Friday - I assume they are marching to pressure Karzai into signing the Amnesty Bill which has already been passed by both Afghan Parliamentary houses. The bill grants amnesty to all people who committed crimes during the Mujaheddin Wars - including the many warlords in Parliament. If Karzai signs it he will lose the support of the international community, but if he doesn't sign it the former warlords will not be happy... There have been many protests and demonstrations in Kabul since I've been here, but people are whispering that this one has the potential to turn into riots like the ones this past May. I've heard three different expats in the last 2 days say that they think evacuation is a possibility this year and if the international forces can't get control of the country by the end of 2007 it will be a lost cause.

Of course, these are all rumors - people were saying that the Taliban was planning a winter attack that was going to take everyone by surprise, but it never materialized. What is unnerving is to read ISAF newsletter and talk to some of the soldiers who are saying they think this spring is going to be very bad. I get nervous when the military and the NGO community agree on anything...

Betsy got permission to start selling her stuff at the ISAF base on Mondays. Unfortunately, I can't help out because I'll still be at work when she heads over. But, once the warmer weather arrives I will be able to help out at Camp Eggars again, which will be good. Volunteering my time to help Afghan women, even if it at a military base, makes me feel a little better about being here.

Holiday Countdown

2007-02-05T11:22:00.000-08:00

Tashi, on the way to the vet

Tashi, in the sideview mirror

Dogs boarded at the vet

Well, life in Kabul has been fairly uneventful. We took the dogs to the vet - there was an adorable little puppy there that I wanted to bring home with me, but I resisted...

Things are heating up in the south, but have stayed pretty quiet here. Two exciting things happened on Monday (1) Betsy came back from her 6 weeks in the US (2) my mom sent me a care package!

Honestly, Monday was like Christmas day for me. Santa Betsy somehow telepathically knew about my desire to try yoga, and she brought me a yoga mat and a dvd, and no, she doesn't read my blog. My mother defied all the laws of physics and somehow managed to send me 3 sweaters, 5 shirts, a pair of jeans, winter boots, medicine and a variety of other things in one small box. She practically doubled my entire wardrobe (keep in mind I originally came here for 3 months, and they were not winter months). I've been making due with 2 long sleeved shirts, 1 cardigan and sweaters I borrowed from Betsy.

The package came just in time because I'm leaving for Dubai on Wednesday. I'm going to spend two days there with my dad who is flying over from Kuwait and then I'm heading to Beirut and Damascus to see friends (and drink and go dancing and get a hair cut). I'm beyond excited - I can't wait to walk around, to go places by myself, use my Arabic and wear scarves around my neck instead of my head! Just keep your fingers crossed for me that nothing happens in Beirut - at least not until I've already entered the country... This will be my first break in 5 months, and I've been counting down for the last two weeks at least. If Hizbullah screws this up for me I'll track Nasrallah down myself and express my displeasure!

So, stay tuned for pictures from my mini-break.

Still no news on the job - I probably won't find anything out until March.

Ashura

2007-01-29T09:25:00.000-08:00

Shia flags and pillars erected in memory of Hussein ibn Ali

Gate commemorating Hussein in the Hazara neighborhood of Kart-e-Seh

Cars driving through Kabul were decorated in honor of Ashura. The flag on the minivan says "Ya Hussein," or "Oh! Hussein" in Arabic, and Farsi.

This gate was set up in front of a Shia mosque, being built by Iran, in Kart-e-Seh

Partially built mosque decorated for Ashura

Today is the 10th of Maharam, or Ashura (literally 10 in Arabic), a day of mourning for Shia Muslims. Shias believe that Hussein ibn Ali, the rightful successor of the prophet Mohammed (in their opinion), was martyred on this day in the 600s AC. Many Shia communities observe the day by dressing in black and retelling stories of Hussain's tragic and untimely death and how he was cheated from his rightful place as the leader of the Muslim community, or umma. Ashura is probably most famous for the images of Shia men, marching in streets beating their chests with their hands, chains and sometimes blades in mourning for Hussein.

When the Prophet Mohammed died, he did not leave a clear successor. At that time, it was common for leaders to be selected by the community - they did not inherit positions. However, some people claimed that the Prophet had in fact named Ali (Hussein's father and husband to the Prophet's wife) as his successor, while others said that the Prophet's father-in-law, Abu Bakr, was the one the Prophet intended to lead the Muslim people. In the end, Abu Bakr led both the Sunni and Shia communities. The name Shia, comes from Shia Ali, or the party of Ali (Hussein's father), and the split between Sunnis and Shias date back to this time.

Ashura tends to aggravate differences and tensions between Shia and Sunni communities. Extremist Sunnis believe celebrating Ashura is sacrilegious and have been known to attack Shias during their mourning processions. Saddam Hussein actually banned Ashura in Iraq for many years to avoid conflict.

In Afghanistan, the Hazara community is Shia, and they mourn the death of Hussein openly, despite their minority status. I live in a Hazara neighborhood, but I didn't get to see the procession because we were under 'lock down' today - just in case there was any trouble between the Sunni and Shia communities. The pictures above were taken two days before Ashura, and most of them are in my neighborhood in the south west part of the city, near the Parliament building.

Decisions Made

2007-01-21T10:21:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been mulling over the topic of my last email pretty single-mindedly since I wrote it, and I've come to a decision. It's funny, as with most major decisions in my life - it wasn't really conscious. I thought about it, talked about it and wrote about and then, on minute I just knew what I was going to do, even though the moment before I still wasn't sure. Does your mind work that way too?

So, if I'm offered the job I'm staying. I decided that it's too great of an opportunity to pass up and most of my reasons for wanting to leave are things that I have at least some control of. I think I'll go home in April, at the end of this consultancy contract, and then when I come back I'll be in the mindset of staying for a year. I think a big part of my problem was the uncertainty, and feeling like I had a lot of loose ends at home to tie up. I didn't spend the kind of quality time with my friends and family, and just doing the things that I like to do before coming here because I thought I would only be here for three months - a mere 90 days.

When I go home I'm going to go for lots of long walks, get ragingly drunk several times a week, stay up all night gossiping with my friends; I'll hit the Little Gem, Clark's, the Steak n Egg, The Raven and the Big Hunt. I'm going to see lots of movies and spent a small fortune at the bookstore and I think I'll invest in a mat and some yoga dvds - I've never tried it before, maybe I'll like it...

And when I get back to Kabul I'm going to start taking Dari classes, work less at night and try and meet more people. I think the combination of all of these things will help me to maintain a better outlook and perspective on why I'm here. I'm also going to try and take short trips traveling around the region (the winter makes it difficult) but I'd love to spend some time in Lahore, Islamabad, Pashawar, Karachi, Delhi, Almaty, Bishkek... there's so much to see from here and Kabul's a nice central location to work from - okay, maybe not, but it'll do.

The hardest part is putting off my return to Palestine. But, there aren't many jobs there at the moment, and the skills I learn here will only make me more marketable in the future - I'm just postponing that part of my life for a while, hopefully. The second hardest part is accepting that I will probably miss Millerstock this year - sorry guys...

Of course, now I have to write that job proposal and see what the DC office has to say about it... now that I've decided I want to stay I'll be disappointed if it doesn't work out!

I do have to admit that a (small) part of my decision to stay came from hearing so many people tell me to come home...I'm just stubborn like that, I guess.

Finally, I wanted to thank you all for the comments I recieved from both friends and strangers about my last post. Your support and interest mean a lot to me - keep reading and I'll try to put up more pics soon!

burnout

2007-01-13T01:33:00.000-08:00

So, I’ve been told that I’m beginning to exhibit signs of the dreaded “burnout”. No one can define burnout per se, but is an expression bandied around in the development community to describe people who have been in the field too long. Classic symptoms are irritability, inability to concentrate, insensitivity and inability to stop working. I’ve definitely been irritable and working too hard, I hope that I’m not being insensitive. Generally speaking, field workers in Afghanistan should go on R&R every 3 months – otherwise you start risking burnout. UN employees get R&R every 6 weeks. I’ve been here for close to four months, and won’t get a break for another month. This happened for a variety of reasons: lack of money, job insecurity and everyone else’s vacation schedules.

The problem is that a lot of the techniques expats use to relieve stress aren’t available here. I can’t just go for a long walk for myself, hang out with friends, hit my favorite bookstore or coffee shop… I spend a lot of time alone, which I enjoy, but my options for company are extremely limited. It’s funny – in DC I was quite the social butterfly, but lately I’ve been turning down my limited social events to stay in and watch movies on my laptop or work. I have books that I’d like to read, but they just sit on my shelf and stare at me reproachfully.

I almost canceled my plans with Dave today, but having recognized the burnout signs, I forced myself to go out and hang out with him. I had a great time with him and it helped a lot to just talk to someone about life without focusing too much on work. I need to find a stress reliever that is available here, or I’m never going to make until April. I could get a gym membership (yuck) or I can try harder to meet people. Problem is a lot of the expats around my age are into the party scene and I don’t want to get drawn into it. Aside from being culturally inappropriate it would be easy to let alcohol become my stress reliever, which is even less healthy than being burnt out. So, if you have any suggestions, fill me in…

Visiting Barchi

2007-01-03T01:55:00.000-08:00

Kids skating on the ice outside N's house

The little guy on the left is N's oldest son, Mohsen

N and his youngest child, Mahdi

The whole family

Me (blinking) and N's family

This morning I had the opportunity to visit an Afghan family in their home. N, one of our drivers, invited me to meet his wife and children who recently arrived from Ghazni. It was a wonderful morning. N lives in the Hazara neighborhood called Barchi, not far from our office. There are three main ethnic groups in Afghanistan – Pashtuns, Tajiks and Hazaras. Hazaras are decendents of Ghengis Khan’s armies, and their features are more east Asian than other Afghans. Because of their ethnicity, and their history, they are often persecuted by other Afghans – both the Taleban and the Mujahaddin targeted them during the 80s and 90s.

We drove down narrow, muddy lanes to get to N’s house, which is set back behind a big lot. On the way N insisted on apologizing for the “poor facilities” at his home. I reassured him not to worry about it, and told him that I was honored to be invited. When we arrived there were some children outside the gate of his house running and sliding on a big patch of ice. When we entered the gate we were greeted by N’s wife, his sister-in-law and several children. I was ushered inside, and after removing my shoes was led to the “guest” room. The room was very clean with lots of carpets and burgundy cushions lining the perimeter. I was offered a seat next to the wood stove and N’s sister-in-law brought in tea, cookies and nuts.

The children filed into the room, sitting quietly at first and peeking at me from behind N and the woodstove. Eventually they decided I wasn’t going to sprout a second head and they started angling over towards the cookies. N’s youngest child is almost a year old, and he sat in N’s lap most of the time I was there, drooling and giggling and trying to walk. Some of the female children came in a little later, but they hung back even more than the other kids – except one girl named Hadiya (which means gift) who sat right next to me but wouldn’t look at me. She was probably about 3 years old.

N lives with his wife and two children, his brother’s wife and five children and his mother. His brother works in Iran and sends money home, but N is responsible for the entire group.

After the tea, the women delivered Bolangi, a kind of potato pancake stuffed with vegetables, chicken and French fries. And so, the game began. I ate a much as I could, keeping in mind that the women and children would not eat until I was finished. Then N insisted that I eat more, so I took a few more bites. Meanwhile, N’s neice, Fatima joined us. She is about 17 and in 11^th grade. She arrived from Ghazni yesterday, and as a guest was allowed to eat with N and I, unlike the other women. I use the word allowed in a cultural sense – not that N would not let them eat with us, just that it would be considered impolite.

Fatima had lots of questions for me about America, my life and my family. She also wanted to know how old I was. I told her to guess, and she said 18 or 19. Which means that she probably thought I was about 21 or 22 but didn’t want to offend me by guessing too high. Her eyes got really big when I told her that I am 27. Afghans age much faster than westerner’s are used to because of the harsh conditions they live in, and because of the dryness of the climate. Admittedly, I do look younger than my age, but most Americans would guess my age around 25. Most 25 year-old Afghans look about 35 or even 40 to Western eyes. After more polite conversation I convinced N to let me take a picture of his whole, beautiful family. N’s wife, Nafisa, tried to insist that I stay for lunch, but I demurred (I had just eaten lunch by my standards).

N makes a good salary by Afghan standards, but his income is supporting 11 people. Their home is very basic and without electricity, water or heat other than bukharis (woodstoves). The leftovers from the food they served me will probably be shared among all the children and the women. But, not eating would have mortally offended N and his family. He views having me as a guest in his home to be a big honor, and I’m sure it will be talked about for many days to come. I am the one who was honored, and I am thankful for the opportunity to have a little peek into Afghan life, even if all the kids were wearing their very best Eid clothes and had been scrubbed within an inch of their lives. These are the sorts of things that make working abroad worthwhile for me, and unfortunately because of the security situation in Afghanistan they are few and far between.

Overcoming Stereotypes

2007-01-02T01:47:00.000-08:00

This week has been full of interesting cultural experiences. Yesterday, I visited a friend at his security contractor camp. Talk about culture shock. He works for a US Security contractor and that protect diplomats from attacks. In Kabul there is a decent sized expat community, but it isn’t all that big. Even so, it is unusual to find security contractors and aid workers hanging out for a variety of reasons ranging from politics, moral beliefs, prejudice and even security from the NGO perspective (military targets are preferred by the Taleban, so we try to keep our distance). Dave and I met online and have had many interesting discussions about Afghanistan, the military, Palestine-Israel and US politics. So, when he invited me to visit his camp (he’s not allowed to go out) I decided to take him up on his offer. I wasn’t sure what to expect – what does a security contractor camp look like? Well, it looks a lot like the military base, Camp Eggars. Lots of security, and lots of men with guns. To be honest, you can find men with guns in most places in Kabul, but this was one of the most “secured” places that I’ve visited – only beat by Camp Eggars and the US Embassy.

Dave and I had a nice time hanging out in their common room, eating German chocolate-covered gingerbread cookies and talking about the state of the world. It was refreshing to hang out and converse with someone who I don’t work and/or live with. It was also funny to see how carefully diplomatic we were in choosing our words, especially when we disagreed on a point. We both know that idealistic, treehugging, snail sister NGO types and neanderthal, gun-totting, womanizing security types aren’t supposed to get along, much less agree on many topics.

My visit was cut short due to changes in visiting hours, but we’re hoping to get together again soon and continue our discussions. I think it is good for me to expand my horizons a little and try to look at the situation here from a perspective other than the NGO world view. It is a mistake to surround yourself with people who agree with you on most issues – it is hard to learn that way.

Traffic Jam

2007-01-01T02:40:00.000-08:00

Some kids in the back of truck, stuck in traffic

I stared at this view for about 20 minutes while waiting for traffic to start moving again

New Mosque, courtesy of Iran

Cinema in Karte-Say that was bombed, probably by the mujahaddin

Detour through a slightly flooded side street

These are some pictures that I took on Monday, the last day of Eid, and first day of the new year, during the hour long car ride back to my house. It normally takes 15 -20 minutes, but everyone was out and about - including important people which resulted in lots of blocked roads and backed up traffic.

Guards and Guns

2006-12-24T11:41:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned before, when we moved from our old house, the international staff split into two separate houses, just a block away from each other. Nathan is at the other house, so we take turns going back and forth to feed our Battlestar Galactica addiction. Tonight it was my turn to walk over to his place. Of course, I’m not allowed to walk even a block by myself, so I had to wait for one of the drivers to escort me. I do, however, absolutely refuse to drive the teensy distance, so we walked over together in the snow. It is really beautiful tonight – it’s been snowing since this morning so the ground is covered with fresh whiteness – a perfect Christmas Eve.

After watching a couple of hours of Battlestar (we just made it into season three) I bundled up for the walk home. As I walked to the gate, the guard asked me to wait for a minute and then he re-appeared, with his big gun in hand. We walked down the middle of the quiet, darkly snowy street, the guard several steps ahead of me, and I thought about how much money that gun cost and how many children it could have fed. I am an NGO employee. I work in humanitarian aid and development, why am I being escorted by a man with a gun? Does development work in an environment where we have to be protected by guns? Doesn’t that go against the idea of humanitarian assistance? There was a time when NGO workers were safe because of their role as 'helpers to the community', but I suppose medical workers and journalists were also considered “untouchable” once upon a time. The highest number of injuries and deaths to aid workers used to be car accidents – now it is targeted attacks.

This summer at the DC office I had an incredulous reaction when one of my colleagues told me that our Afghanistan office had armed guards. And now they are escorting me to and from my movie night.

No Eggnog This Year

2006-12-24T11:31:00.000-08:00

Nope, not for me. I’ve sunk to new lows. My holiday drink of the season is V8 with Tabasco and fresh garlic, served hot in a holiday mug (okay, it’s not a holiday mug, but it has some red on it). It’s fantastic! Really, you should try it. Okay, maybe not. In fact, it is horrendous. Not even vodka could make it worthwhile. But, some quack website claims that it helps cure/avoid sinus infections, so I’m giving it a go. Don’t try this at home, kids.

As those of you who know me will remember, last year I spent Christmas Eve in Bethlehem, outside of the Church of the Nativity, in pouring down freezing rain. Then I spent a week working with a nonviolence conference in an unheated school, also in Bethlehem. By New Years Day I was ragingly ill, and it took me two months and 3 rounds of antibiotics to kick it. So, this year I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’ve had my first nasty cold of the season, and I can feel everything settling not-so-comfortably into my sinus passages. Well, screw that! I’m going to drink tomato juice/Tabasco sauce/garlic beverages; I’ll lean over a bowl of steaming water with a chador over my head to keep the humidity in; I’ll take the goddamn vitamin C and Echinacea and extract oil of a newt’s testicles and whatever else those crunchy home-remedy types recommend – just please don’t make me suffer as much as I did last year.

Who needs eggnog anyway, with all its fat calories and alcohol? Or holiday peppermint mocha lattes? Those drinks are for wusses.

Moving

2006-12-19T19:52:00.000-08:00

I’m writing this entry from my new home, just a few blocks from the old staff house. I’m currently sitting on the floor between two heaters (rotisserie Sahar, anyone?) trying to get warm – it seems like I haven’t been warm in days, although even I know that’s an exaggeration. I haven’t showered in four days, which is NOT an exaggeration, although I wish it was…My personal hygiene has consisted of brushing my teeth and rinsing my face with bottled water.

At first the move really didn’t seem like it was going to be bad. After all, there were at least six men moving the stuff, so I didn’t have to do that, which was nice (the power just went out, btw) and everything seemed to be in order. When we arrived at the new house it was freezing cold, as a concrete house that has been empty for months would be. I spent the morning settling into my new room then my boss and I ate lunch before I headed over to the office. While we were eating, Tashi and Heida (dogs) were hanging out with us, in my new room. Then Heida jumps up onto my bed, stands on top of my pillow, and pees all over it and the bed. Now, I like dogs, and I wasn’t too upset by this because I knew the washer and dryer were being delivered that afternoon, so I just stripped the bed and went to work. I wasn’t too concerned about the lack of power and water because I knew our Admin officer was working on it – that was Sunday.

Today is Tuesday. Since Sunday we’ve had spotty electricity, no food (no fridge), some water, but no hot (or even not freezing cold) water. To add insult to injury, on Monday I left my cold house and walked across the street to the office, thinking at least there would be heat there. HA. The office generator went down, so I spent the first 3 hours of the day sitting in a freezing concrete office with no heat, no light and a dead laptop battery. (power came back)

Now, I realize that I am working in the field, and this is part of the territory. This lack of heat situation worries me because I have lupus, and any extended exposure to cold can make me very sick. I get symptoms every winter in the US, but they don’t usually get serious until late January or early February. Spring starts in DC in March, so it usually isn’t too big of a deal. Unfortunately, my symptoms are already starting, and it is only December. From what I’ve heard, winter hasn’t even started in Afghanistan, and January and February are brutally cold. I should be okay if I can stay in warm places, but if the house and the office aren’t warm, I’m going to have some serious problems. For now I’m playing the wait and see game, but I will be terribly disappointed if I can’t fulfill my contract because of the weather. I try not to let the lupus control, or even really influence my life – but this may be out of my hands. (power just went out, came back, and went out again)

On a more upbeat note, the water heater has supposedly been fixed, so I’m looking forward to taking a shower in the very near future. We don’t have hot water yet, but it isn’t freezing cold, so hopefully we’ll have enough warm water for showers soon. Of course, the electricity has to stay on for the water to run, and for it to heat up, so I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

one big happy family

2006-12-13T08:28:00.001-08:00

Ho hum. It's Wednesday night and I'm hanging out at home. I didn't do any work after hours for a change - instead I finished reading In Her Shoes, by Jennifer Wiener, which I picked up at Shah books over the weekend. As always, the book is better than the movie. . . Now I'm on my third glass of vodka and tonic, and very bored. I don't drink much here, and certainly not by myself (and never vodka), but tonight I'm kind of enjoying the novelty of it.

Our happy little staff family is splitting up - Ian and Matt went back to the US and the rest of us are moving house on Sunday. Our current staff house is located a main road, just down the street from the Parliament, and it was attacked during the May riots. Nothing to serious, but enough to make us feel insecure in this location. We're splitting up when we move - I'm moving with my boss and her dogs into a little house across the street from our office, and the guys are moving into a bigger staff house down the street.

Nathan has an opportunity to move into a group house with some acquaintances of ours, but he's having a hard time getting permission because of the security situation. We had a house meeting last night to talk about security, security policy and logistics. It lasted for two hours, and I felt like I was listening to my big brother trying to lobby for a later curfew. Nathan wants to move out in hopes a living a somewhat more normal lifestyle, and feeling less like an occupier, but there are a lot of questions of what would happen in a security situation like the May riots. So, it has been tabled until the end of January, when theoretically we will have answers to some of these security questions.

Speaking of security, rumor has it that a truck carrying explosives managed to get inside Camp Eggars, one of the US Military bases in Kabul. It was discovered and disarmed before anything happened. . . Camp Eggars happens to be where I volunteer with the Women of Hope project on Fridays. The creepy part is that I was lying in bed last night after our big security house meeting, thinking morbid thoughts, and one of the scenarios I envisioned was someone bombing the Friday bazaar at Camp Eggars. Now, a military base in an obvious target, but I still think that the coincidence is a little weird. I think I'm still going on Friday, but my boss has already warned me that I may not be permitted to go. The whole living with your co-workers, security situation is a little too parental for my liking. . .

In unrelated news, I received a singing Christmas card via email from a friend in the US. I had forgotten how close Christmas is. . . without the constant bombardment of consumerist holiday madness, it almost slipped my mind. It made me a little sad when I heard the Christmas music - this will my second holiday season in a row away from home. Overall, I'm fine with it, but I will miss my special Christmas stocking hanging by the fireplace at our house in Syracuse, decorating the tree with my brothers and putting all of my favorite ornaments in front (after they leave the room) and my great grandmother's German Christmas cookies. Last year, I spent Christmas Eve at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. This year I'll probably spend it in the office, finalizing a survey questionnaire for a big research project we're funding. Ah well, it'll be good experience for me.

Great Day

2006-12-09T09:15:00.000-08:00

View from the Intercontinental Hotel

Cemetary behind the Intercontinental Hotel

Entrance to the Intercontinental

Shortcut through an old part of the city (from the car)

Traditional Bread Oven

View from the lake

This one is pretty self explanatory. . .

Matt, holding up the golf club building

Nathan, Matt and Ian (wish this wasn't blurry!)

Today was one of the best days that I've had since I arrived in Kabul. It started around 9 am, when I picked up Ian and we headed to the Intercontinental Hotel. I went to the Intercontinental for lunch a few weeks ago and noticed that next to the hotel, which is one of the higher points in the city, there is a path that leads up to a scenic view. So, after a little car haggling (too many staff, not enough cars) we got dropped off at the hotel. Unfortunately, it was cloudy (and smoggy) today, so we didn't have as good of a view as I had hoped, but I still got some great pictures. Oddly, on the path just behind the hotel there is a small graveyard. We didn't stay on the path for too long - the windchill was brutal that high up. So, after about 15 minutes we admitted defeat and had breakfast at the hotel before heading to our next destination - Shah Books.

Before the bookstore, we made a small detour to pick up two of our consultants who were heading to the office for work. Because traffic was horrendous, we took a detour through one of the oldest parts of the city. The street that we drove down was full of old, crumbling buildings with stores on the bottom level. Most of the stores were bakeries, and they had traditional bread ovens in the front area, facing the street. The ovens look a lot like kilns. Then we stopped on Chicken Street, the infamously overpriced tourist shopping area, so that one of our consultants could pay off the carpet seller she'd bought several rugs from. Chicken St. was off limits when I arrived in September because of all the bombings that were happening in Kabul at the time. There was a bomb that went off on Chicken St. this year, killing one international (American, I think) and one Afghan. Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of the flamboyantly colorful street, but I'm sure I'll get another chance. . .

Some of you may have read The Bookseller of Kabul, well, today I met him (he's the owner of Shah Books). I also spent about an hour and half drooling over all of his books. . . He also totally ripped us off, charging full price for obviously used books, but since English books are something of a commodity I wasn't complaining. I was very restrained and only bought 4 books, including The Clockwork Orange, which I'm embarrassed to say I haven't read previously. Mr. Shah speaks wonderful English, but he was far more interested in talking to Ian than myself, which is fine because I was far more interested in his books!

After the bookstore we headed home for lunch and picked up Nathan and Matt. Then we drove out to a lake and golf course about 20 minutes outside of the city. This is the first time that I've been out of the city since my trip to Jalalabad. The entire area was covered with about 3-4 inches of crusted over snow, and Tashi (Tilly's dog) and I had a great time crunching through it to get down to the lake. The area was cleared of mines a year or so ago, but we were careful to stay in areas where we could see other people's tracks. I don't think I can describe how wonderful it felt to be outside, walking around, away from the smog and city traffic. . . Tashi had a good time too, although I had to keep her on a short leash because of all the stray dogs around. It was especially nice because it was cold enough that there weren't too many people around. I'm sure it is beautiful in the warmer weather, and I'm equally sure that it is thronged. . . Half the fun was not having to worry about behaving inappropriately because there was hardly anyone around. . .

After we got home we all huddled around the fireplace and drank tea before watching a movie.

Snow

2006-12-05T09:02:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, the weather is the most interesting thing that has happened in my life this week. It started snowing late morning on Saturday and didn't stop until this morning. Now, being from Syracuse, it takes a lot to impress me as far as snow is concerned. That said, I can't remember the first snow of the season lasting for three straight days - and I'm from the snowiest city in the continental US.

The Salang pass was officially closed for about 36 hours after an avalanche killed 3 people and wounded 8 others. Now traffic is only allowed to pass in one direction - North to South at the moment. As the winter continues the direction will vary, one day northbound traffic can pass, and the next day southbound. Except, of course, when the pass is totally closed. People die on that treacherous road every year from the cold, the icy roads, avalanches and from exhaust fumes in the tunnel. . .

Betsy and one of our consultants were both supposed to leave Kabul for the US Saturday afternoon. They are both still here because the weather shut down the airport. Betsy re-booked her flight for Sunday and poor John is going to have to drive from Kabul to Peshawar, then fly to Lahore and then fly to Delhi to pick up his flight home. Ugh. The airport has become a total nightmare because most of the flights leaving Kabul are pretty booked because of the holiday season - this means that people who's flights were cancelled are stuck on long standby lists. Ariana and Kam Air don't really have the extra planes available to schedule extra flights, so everyone is stuck. Speaking of Ariana, I heard a funny story about their airline:

Betsy was flying from Kabul to Dubai, and as the plane was taking off she noticed that passengers were talking on their cell phones. Now, Betsy worked in the airline industry for 20+ years, so she called the flight attendant over and said something along the lines of, "Um, I'm pretty sure that cell phones and other electronic equipment disturb the plane's radar system. Isn't this a problem?"

To which the flight attendant replied, "Oh no, it's no problem - we don't have that technology on these planes."

So basically, if the pilots can't physically see the mountains (which completely surround Kabul) they can't fly. . .

On a more personal note, this week has been full of ups and downs. I'm still waiting for my contract to be approved by headquarters, so I'm not 100% sure that I'm staying. Everyone is stressed at work, which is tiring when you live and work with the same people. The snow has been beautiful, but the office is COLD, and I hate the cold. I've also been feeling lonely lately. I don't have any female friends here around my age, and while the guys are great, a little variety would be nice. . . I did finish a big project that I've been working on for the last two months, which feels awesome! I have a big deadline for USAID tomorrow, but I feel confident I'll get it done on time. And, my relationship with the Gender Advisor seems to be on the upswing, which certainly makes my life easier.

Winter in Kabul

2006-11-28T10:25:00.000-08:00

As I was leaving the office this afternoon the first soggy flakes of the season started to fall. The mountains have been snow capped for about two weeks - you can see them from anywhere in the city - but this is the first snow in Kabul. Hopefully not an omen, our generator died this morning (thankfully NOT while I was in the shower as the water is also connected to the generator). We have a temporary replacement now, but this afternoon I sat in my frigid candle lit room as the sun set and thought about the privileged existence I lead, even in Kabul. We expats pride ourselves on living in a conflict region without the comforts and security we are accustomed to, but we live in opulence compared to the average Kabul resident - never mind life in the provinces. Even my Afghan co-workers, who are highly educated and make good salaries, live without electricity, heat (other than wood stoves) and running water.

Now I'm sitting in my (relatively) warm room with my Internet connection, thinking about how grateful I am for the privileges and opportunities I grew up with. And how I hope I can help other people experience some of those same opportunities in the future.

A Carpet Bazaar and the Omar Mine Museum

2006-11-27T05:10:00.000-08:00

Carpet Bazaar

oTwo Afghan men at the carpet bazaar - they asked me to take their picture. It's washed out, but I like it anyway.

The grounds of the Omar Mine Museum, displaying different missiles

An airplane mounted outside of the museum

The inside of a an old airplane used as a classroom at the Omar Mine Museum

Poster distributed by the mine museum. The red painted rocks signal a mine field, and the women is hanging onto her child's shirt as he walks towards it. Different types of mines litter the field.

Saturday was an interesting day - in the morning I went to a old fort next to the former British embassy for a carpet bazaar, and then we went to the Mine Museum. A few weeks ago I posted about visiting the Kabul Museum, and what a sorry state it was in. The Taleban managed to destroy the majority of historic art and artifacts at that the museum, but the mine museum was practically bursting with displays. I think that says a lot about what decades of war can do to a country. Although, to be fair, the Taleban didn't plant a lot of mines - the mujahadeens and Soviets did a lot of that, with other internationals participating at varying intervals.

Luckily for me, I went to Omar Mine Museum with my friend Matt, who is writing his dissertation about mines, so I got a very thorough explanation of the different mines displayed at the museums, their uses, and some of the war theory behind the use of mines. Mines are mainly used as a defensive mechanism, but they aren't very effective because a determined army will plow through a mine field fairly quickly. Also, mines move with rain, so overtime a mine field expands.

The overwhelming casualties of mines are civilians. One of the displays showed butterly mines, brightly colored plastic mines that are dropped from planes onto an area below. They look like toys, and invariably attract children, who will lose a few fingers if they pick one up.

The museum is used as an educational platform for various organizations, especially de-mining employees, to teach them about different types of mines, etc. It amazed me that humanity has spent so much time creating weapons that will blow off a persons leg, or blow off their leg and shoot shrapnel 25 ft in each direction, or blow through the underbelly of an armored tank. Throughout the museum there are photos of children, women and men who have been maimed by mine explosions.

Ironically, Saturday morning (same day I visited the Omar Mine Museum) an Afghan National Army tank driving through the Karte Parwan district of Kabul veered off the road a little and hit a landmine. No one was injured, but it makes one very cautious about venturing off the beaten path, even in the city.

Unfortunately pictures are not allowed inside the museum, so I have some pictures from the grounds, which are also very interesting.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-25T04:28:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays, and this year was no exception. After pooling our detective skills and cash, we were able to procure two 10 kilo turkeys, 48 Heinekens and an assortment of additional yummy goodies. We invited about 30 people over for the feast, with guests ranging from the Country Directors of Oxfam and CARE to little gender interns like me.

Aside from finding the turkeys, Betsy contributed a fake Christmas tree and an assortment of decorations from the Women of Hope project. Thanksgiving day we went shopping for the party in the morning, decorated in the afternoon and ate and ate and ate at night. Baba Ji, our cook, did a fantastic job on the turkeys (I guess he marinated them for two days in a garlic-herb sauce that he made. He even make a pumpkin pie from scratch, which by the way, tastes very different from the pies made with pumpkin concentrate. . .

Almaty

2006-11-24T14:16:00.000-08:00

My eight days in Almaty were a whirlwind of work, sleep depravation and fun.

High Points:

Walking around. Something I don't get to do much of in Kabul.
Being praised by my boss for designing and giving the best presentation during the strategic planning sessions.
Hanging out with Jenny and Ian who were in Almaty from the DC office.
Gorging myself on the homemade cookies that Gavi's mom sent from the US, via Ian.
Watching Kazakh music videos.
Eating pepperoni pizza, having an American style brunch complete with bacon, going out to bars with the Kazakh staff and drinking micro brews.
Using the hotel laundry service, which includes dryers (my jeans shrunk back down to size).
Not having to worry about being culturally inappropriate.
Not wearing a headscarf!

***Pics in order: Soviet statue in the downtown park of Almaty; Cathedral in the same park; Ian and Igor (DC bonding with Kazakh staff) at Murphy's Pub; Nathan and I on our way into the same pub; DC staff participating in the local custom of toasting with vodka; me enjoying one of the cranberry and white chocolate cookies sent to Nathan and I from the US (Gavi's mom is the best EVER).

Shoot on Sight

2006-11-22T10:43:00.000-08:00

I returned from Almaty yesterday feeling refreshed after 8 days of relative freedom. Of course we did a lot of work during the study tour/strategic planning sessions, but we also explored the city, frequented bars and (my favorite) walked around. On Sunday, our free day, we went out for brunch and then I walked and walked and walked. It was awesome. I will write more about this later (and post pictures), but I wanted to write about something that happened tonight.

After work Nathan and I went over to Scott's place to check out his new office and apartment. He has a more traditional set up with an open courtyard in the center of his staff house and several small buildings around the garden. Afterwards we walked over to another friend's house for dinner. Now, we were breaking the rules by going for a stroll, but we were only walking a few blocks and I wasn't going to complain. As we walked and talked I realized that this is furthest I've walked in Kabul. Scott said hello in Dari to each person we passed on the street, and I couldn't help thinking that our security measures are a bit extreme. In his two weeks in Kabul Scott has already seen more of the city and met more people than I have in two months.

We arrived and settled down for dinner. Two of the roommates who live in the house were home, and the third was at the gym but was expected home any minute. I was feeling very jealous of their normal lifestyle - going to they gym in the evening, walking around to get to each other's homes, etc. . . After a 1/2 hour the other roommates started getting nervous. Turns out the gym is only a block away, but everyone was nervous about a woman walking that distance alone at 9:30 pm. They kept trying to call the roommate, but there was no answer. Eventually we started eating and S got a call, and he rushed out of the house. A few minutes later he re-entered with his missing roommate, Aneela.

Apparently Aneela had left the gym on time and was jogging back to her house when she was suddenly slammed against a wall by an ISAF soldier. After a brief exchange he explained that the military was removing a car with an explosive parked on her street, directly across from her house. The street was blocked off (we must have arrived at the house just before this happened) and they wouldn't let her go home until the car was towed away. The soldier told Aneela that they had already disarmed the bomb, and just waiting for the tow truck to arrive. They were using a jammer (in case of a remote control bomb) so cell phone signals were blocked.

While she was waiting the soldier told her that she was lucky -- his partner had been ready to shoot, but as he said, "I thought it looked like a lady running, so I told him to wait." When Aneela questioned if it was their policy to shoot at unknown persons in the dark he explained that that was, in fact, their policy and their orders.

Understandably, Aneela was quite shaken by the experience.

When we got home, about an hour ago, I checked my work email and found a new security notice. Looks like a US Military Convoy in Kabul opened fire on a contractor vehicle that was traveling too close to the convoy. This caused the driver to lose control and slam into a shop. The convoy then opened fire on the vehicle, killing one doctor, one civilian and wounding four other doctors who were traveling from Bagram to Kabul.

Guess Aneela really was lucky.

In unrelated news, today I was offered and verbally accepted a new 3 month contract with my NGO working as a gender consultant.

***Pic is of Scott's mini-apartment.

Headin' to Central Asia

2006-11-12T07:54:00.000-08:00

Well, after an almost completely unproductive day at work, I'm packing up to head to Kazakhstan for 8 days. We're having a study tour/strategic planning retreat for the senior management team in Almaty. Of course, I'm an intern, not senior management, but I get to go too! I think I've earned my keep by handling a lot of the logistics, I'm giving one of the gender presentations and I'll be co-facilitating the 3 days of strategic planning. Oh, and I'll be hanging out with Ian and J-Lew from headquarters, drinking in Russo-Kazakh bars.

woohoooooo! I'm ready for no head scarves, clothes that fit and dancing. Hopefully I'll have lots of good pics to post when I get back. Have a great week!

Christmas Gifts

2006-11-11T07:09:00.000-08:00

Rain or Shine

2006-11-11T05:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I volunteered at the base, as usual. Unfortunately, it started to rain around 2pm (ironically right at the time I skipped out to get some coffee with my new friend Paul). Of course we were set up in a place without any cover, so we had to haul everything to a partially sheltered area. I say partially shelted because the tables and the customers were under cover, but Betsy, Mahboob and I were barely under the overhang. Add a little wind, and you can imagine how wet we were. Amazingly, we still managed to sell a lot of stuff - we almost tied our best day so far, in spite of the weather.

Kabul desperately needs rain, so it is actually a really good thing that it rained. Admittedly, the entire city turns into a mud pit, but at least it damps down the dust a bit.

At 4 we packed everything up and left the base. Then, we stood outside in the rain (now it was just sprinkling) for a half hour waiting for Mahboob to hail a cab. They all seem to disappear when it starts raining. Eventually, we squelched into a cab, heaved a premature sigh of relief. Premature, because when we got to Betsy's street the road was flooded. Because rain in relatively infrequent in Kabul, many of the streets don't have drainage systems. The taxi plunged into the water - at the deepest point the water was just below the car doors. I could feel the water flowing beneath the floor boards.

The water in front of Betsy's house was at least a foot deep, so we got the driver to drop us off a little further up the street, and we used a back side entrance to lug everything inside. As I stood in the mud waiting for Betsy to unlock the door I realized that the water flowing down the street was a mix of rain runoff and sewage. It was the smell that gave it away. Once we got inside we put on dry clothes and drank hot chocolate - thank god for hot chocolate.

When I dragged my slightly air-dried self back to my house, I was greeted by my good friend from DC, Scott, who arrived in Kabul on Thursday. After 1o minutes of talking, and my explaining my job situation, Scott recommended that I go out for dinner with himself, his new boss and Nathan. Scott insisted that his boss, Lorenzo, could be a vital networking link for me. Since Lorenzo is leaving Afghanistan for about 20 days tomorrow, it was a now or never situation. So, I dragged my soggy self upstairs and took a (mostly) hot shower. The light blew out in my bedroom, so I got dressed in the dark and we went out to dinner at an Iranian restaurant. I was so tired I could barely follow the conversation, much less impress Lorenzo with my charm, intelligence and overall employability. But, I did give two people my business card, so hopefully I made a better impression than I think. . .

When we got home I crawled upstairs and was getting ready for bed when a heard two bursts of machine gun fire. Close. I instinctively rolled onto the bed and away from the windows. I laid there with my heart pounding for a minute before it clicked -- wedding. Afghans, like Palestinians and many other cultures, celebrate weddings by shooting into the air. Amazingly, I crawled into bed a few minutes later and passed out immediately.

***Pic is a minivan stuck on Betsy's street in water almost up to the tail lights. Unfortunately I was shivering so hard I couldn't get a clear shot.

The song that keeps running through my head

2006-11-08T10:16:00.000-08:00

On my drive from DC to Syracuse, my last stop before Kabul, I listened to some cds I borrowed from my wonderful friend Gavi. This Dar Williams song was on the first cd I put it, and I listened to over and over again. It's been in my head ever since. It captures part of how I feel about traveling - the love I have for it and how it is a part of who I am, although I can't really explain why. And how I question my motives for traveling, and whether or not the benefits are worth the costs. They are so far. I guess it is the saharinkabul theme song. . .

Travelin' Again

Have I got everything? Am I ready to go?
Is it gonna be wild, is it gonna be the best time
Or am I just a-saying so?
Am I ready to go?
What do I hear when I say I hear the call of the road?

I think it started with driving
More speed, more deals, more sky, more wheels
More things to leave behind
Now it's all in a day for the modern mind
And I am traveling again
Calling this the ghost town, and where is the heart land
And I'm afraid to go, was there any good reason
That I had to go, when all I know is I can never come back?

Traveling I made a friend, he had a trouble in his head
And all he could say's that he knew that the bottle
Drank the woman from his bed,
From his bed.
He said "I'm not gonna lose that way again."
But sober is just like driving
More joy, more dread, someone turns her head
And smiles and disappears
He's gotta take like it is, and it goes too fast
And he is just like me, caught in-between
No sage advisor
Does weary mean wiser?
And someday will I sing the mountains that carried me away
From home and hometown boys like you?

Well, what about us? Was it really that bad?
Oh its hard to believe I want a highway road stop
More than all the times we had
On little dirt roads.
What am I reaching for that's better than a hand to hold?
It really was about driving
Not fame, not wealth, not driving away from myself
It's just myself drove away from me
And now I gotta get it back, and goes so fast so
I am traveling again
Sitting at the All-night, picking up a pen
And I'm afraid to go, was there any good reason
That I had to go, when all I know is
I am all alone again
And you are the ghost town, and I am the heart land
And I can say that's a very good reason
That I had to go, but now all I know is I can never come back.
And I will never go back.

about that extension. . .

2006-11-07T10:11:00.000-08:00

Well, we got verbal confirmation that our program would get the extension, but nothing on paper. The donor says it is too soon to commit to an extension (we still have 14 months left in the original program). So, I have no idea how that translates into a job for Sahar. I think I'm going to bring it up with my boss sometime in the next few days and see what she thinks. My motivation to apply for jobs will increase dramatically once it is confirmed that I will land in Syracuse, broke, if I don't get my ass into gear.

In unrelated news, I saw my first scorpion in the house today. I spotted it, but I let one of roommates kill it. I thought that was fair.

***pic expresses my current mood. I'm not sure what happened to my eyebrow in this picture - I just checked in the mirror and it's still there. . .

Wedding - Afghan Style

2006-11-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

Saturday evening I went to my first wedding, Afghan style. I was a little nervous because I knew that most of the other women at the office weren’t going, although most of the men were. I would have been fine hanging out with the men, but most Afghan weddings (including this one) are separated by sex. So, I put on my new bright pink Afghan outfit, some make up and climbed into the car. When we arrived at the wedding hall, there were two entrances, one for men, and one for women. My coworker’s father escorted me into the banquet hall where about 100 vibrantly dressed women sat at tables.

Bashir’s father led me directly to Bashir’s sister, who promptly seated me at what I assume was a table of honor. It was next to the stage that the bride and groom would sit on when they arrived, and currently occupied by about 7 elderly Afghan women – none of whom spoke English. So, I smiled my best smile, said Salam wa Alaykum, and sat down to watch the show.

There was a band playing and a few young girls dancing. Some of the men from the bride and groom’s families were dancing in the center of the floor, and everyone watched them. I expected this wedding to be fairly similar to Middle Eastern weddings I’ve attended – but it was very different. As I scanned the room I noticed that none of the women were smiling. Hardly any were even talking to each other, they just sat and watched the event (the groom's family being the exception). And the event was watching the men dance. None of the women at my table even attempted conversation with me, not even the two young girls (maybe 6 and 8) who were also at the table. They just stared at me.

Thankfully, at this point the only female coworker who showed up found me and sat with me. She was with her sister who had just returned from 6 months of studying in Japan. We said our hellos and made small talk until the bride and groom arrived. As they walked down the open aisle, women from the groom’s family tossed flower petals in front of them and the groom’s mother followed them carrying a Qur'an over their heads. They walked somberly forward (a bride is not supposed to be happy or smile on her wedding day because it would dishonor the family she is leaving behind). The bride was wearing a lime/neon green dress and about 40 lbs of make-up (brides spend about 8 hours at the salon before their wedding, having all their body hair removed, and elaborate hair and make-up treatments). The groom was wearing a white suit and snakeskin boots.

As I watched them climb onto their marital dais I thought about the conversation I’d had with the groom two days earlier. My boss asked him what he wanted for a wedding gift from the staff and he said, “another wife”.

As they sat on their bridal couch the professional photographers swirled around them, snapping photos. Different arrangements of siblings and parents climbed onto the stage to be photographed with the unsmiling couple. The women wore pink, orange, teal, purple – the more festive, the better. Yet it seemed strangely in contrast to their expressions. Only the mother of the groom and his sisters, the hostesses, seemed to be having a good time. After they were settled on the couch the music started again, and the men danced some more.

Samira, my coworker, tried to drag me out onto the dance floor, but I refused. I like to dance, and I know enough Middle Eastern dancing to fake it in Afghanistan, but none of the other women were dancing besides immediate family members and pre-pubescent girls. So, Samira, stood up and went out to the dance floor by herself. Now, at work Samira is extremely quiet and mousy – she keeps her head down and doesn’t talk much. In the middle of the dance floor, directly in front of the video camera, she spun and jumped to the drumbeats, her hair flying around her gracefully. She was beautiful and alive in a way that no one else in the room seemed capable of. When the song ended she returned to the table laughing and out of breath. Bashir’s mother came over and thanked her for dancing.

Shortly after that the bride and groom exited the banquet hall to eat dinner with their immediate families. My phone rang, and it was Nathan calling to see if I was ready to go. I’d been told previously that it was rude to leave before the food, and I mentioned that to him. He said, “Oh. We’ve already eaten. We’ve been done for a while.” While we were talking men carrying huge platters of food started dumping them down on tables. So, I told him I’d eat fast and meet him outside. We got our food, and then another man came around with a bucket, unloading Pepsis onto the tables. He unloaded 8 sodas and moved onto the next table. Before we had even reached for the drinks, a male guest (one of Bashir’s family) walked up, took 6 of the drinks from the table and left. All the women just stared at him. Someone found the drink boy and got some more sodas.

After inhaling enough cold food to be polite, I made my exit. Samira escorted me to the door and I called Nathan to tell him I was coming out. As I exited the wedding hall, I entered into a sea of suited men. There wasn’t another woman in sight (they were all inside). Nathan walked up to me and I said, “Wow. I really am in Manistan”. He escorted me to the car and the sea of suits parted for us, with the men staring as we passed. I climbed into the car and watched the men stare in through the open door and windows at me. Then we went home.

I learned afterwards that the pre-dinner celebration (for the women) is supposed to be low key because they are grieving with the bride for the loss of her family. The post-dinner celebration is supposed to be more upbeat. I’m glad I went, but I’m not sorry that I missed the second half. . . it would have been difficult to celebrate a wedding where the groom had said he wanted another wife as his gift.

***pic is of Nathan and I in Afghan garb

I love Fridays!

2006-11-06T04:58:00.000-08:00

Fridays are my favorite day of the week because I spend the day lugging crafts around and dealing with cranky people. No, really I love the opportunity to be outdoors (scarf-less), have conversations with total strangers, and get some physical activity. And, this time I smuggled my camera into the base, so you can see pictures of some of the things that Women of Hope Project sells.

See how enterprising I am!

Honestly, we must look so funny on Friday mornings trying to cram 3 adults, 2 suitcases, 2 big canvas bags, an enormous duffel bag, a collapsable metal clothing rack, 6 baskets, a brass money box with padlock and a bag of snacks into a taxi. Thankfully, Betsy and Maboob have it down to an artform. I just try to make myself smaller and stay out of the way during the taxi-packing process.

***The first picture is of Betsy, the brains behind Women on Hope Project and Maboob, her right hand man. Second pic is of a handwoven tapestry that I love but can't afford and the last one is a stack of hand embroidered hats.

More Pictures

2006-10-26T05:45:00.000-07:00

More pics from my balcony. I knew that Kabul was ringed by mountains, but I didn't realize that I can see mountains from all sides of our staff house until today (it's been too hazy/dusty).

frequency and consistency (this post is dedicated to Cari)

2006-10-26T05:02:00.000-07:00

Today I had my first experience with the medical facilities in Kabul. After 7 endless days of diarrhea I decided it was time to head to the German Clinic to get some medicine. Actually, I was still considering waiting it out, but after 4 trips to the bathroom between 7 and 8 am I figured it was time to see a professional. I arrived at 9am at walked into what could have passed for an upscale small private practice in the US. I was immediately yelled at when I walked in for not covering my dusty shoes with blue slip-ons – ignorant American. Then, I got yelled again for answering my cell phone what it rang – guess that isn’t allowed either.

After checking in I perused the German magazines and daydreamed about non-Afghanistan appropriate clothing and getting a hair cut while I waited. Eventually the doctor, a petite German bundle of energy, called me in. As with most non-specialists, she became very excited when she found out I had lupus and wanted to know all the details about my diagnosis, symptoms etc. She insisted on doing blood work just in case (of what, I don’t know, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t either). Then, she asked me to give her a stool sample. Now, I have spent the majority of the last seven days in the bathroom, but at that moment, when I needed to perform, I found myself experiencing stage fright. After waiting an hour for the blood work, which was perfectly normal (for someone with lupus), I was sent home with a tiny capsule in which I was supposed to neatly deposit a sample. Sigh.

Within 5 minutes of getting home, I had the sample and then waited for an hour for a car to become available to take me back to the clinic. Today is Thursday, so if I wanted medicine I had to get the sample in today or wait until Saturday. After another hour wait at the clinic, it was determined that I did not, in fact, have any parasites residing in my intestines, so it must be a bacterial infection. Mind you, this was after the doctor conferred very loudly and at some length with the technician about the consistency etc. of my poop in the lobby full of Afghan men. So, more than five hours after my initial visit I was given a prescription for Cipro and asked to pay $174. It really is just like America! Except that I could have walked into any pharmacy in Afghanistan and gotten a prescription for Cipro without a doctor’s appointment and paid $40. Ah well, live and learn.

As a side note, I had a much better experience getting treatment in Kabul than I did in Cairo for the same problem . . . go figure.

Kites

2006-10-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

The sky in Kabul was crowded with kites on the first day of Eid. These are just a few pics taken from my balcony.

The kite on the fence seems like a good metaphor for Afghanistan - it has the potential to take off, but is caught up in circumstances beyond its control.

Beer and Bombs

2006-10-22T14:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went shopping all by myself (okay, I had a driver with me). It felt good to be a little independent and do something on my own. First I went to the PX to get more coke, and I found salt vinegar pringles (wOhoo!). After that, I was feeling adventurous, so we went on a beer hunt. Alcohol is becoming more and more of a commodity because of new anti-alcohol laws. I'm not sure exactly what the new law is, but I'm under the impression selling alcohol is now illegal. That said, there are several restaurants/bars in town that cater to foreigners and serve alcohol. Although the PXs no longer sell alcohol, there are little stores that still sell it - you just need to know where to look.

After conferring with Betsy, and having M explain how to find the establishment to my driver in Dari, we were off. The store that we went to was on a crowded market street, especially crowded because it was one of the last days before Eid (holiday after Ramadan) and EVERYONE was out shopping. Eventually we found the store - and they had boxes of Heineken in the window. I just don't get it. I guess the owner pays a pretty bribe for the authorities to look the other way.

Turns out the beer really is a commodity - $38 for 24 beers, which is exorbitant in Afghanistan. I felt guilty about spending that much money on alcohol when there are so many people in Kabul going hungry, but Nathan did ask me to pick it up . . .

So, the mission was successful. This morning, around 7:30 a remote control bomb went off in my neighborhood, on the street where I bought the beer. No one was injured, thankfully. It is scary to think that I drove by the spot where the bomb went off 14 hours earlier. . .

Taxis and Bases

2006-10-21T11:06:00.000-07:00

Thursday night was my first time volunteering with the Women of Hope Village project. After work I went straight over to Betsy's (or I tried to, the driver thought I said Beth's house, so I ended up on the wrong side of town -- I tried to tell him we were going the wrong way, but both men assumed I didn't know what I was talking about). Eventually I arrived at Betsy's, just in time to help load up M's taxi to head over to the Army Corp Engineer base. Now, it is amazing how much stuff Betsy and M can cram into a station wagon. They fit in the biggest suitcase I've ever seen, a regular sized suitcase, two big canvas bags about 3 ft high and two ft wide, a metal clothing rack, 4 wicker baskets, a huge duffel bag and three people. M, Betsy's Afghan counterpart, isn't a taxi driver, but he rents them once a week to transport crafts to different events.

This was my first time riding in a regular taxi, and it makes for a whole different experience. My NGO has several vehicles, all of which are four wheel drive, so you don't really feel how bad the roads are. In a taxi with almost no shocks, you get a whole new experience. So, I was bouncing around in the backseat when I noticed movement above the little one story shops crammed tightly together. A couple of kids were running along the roofs of the shops, playing tag. In the SUV it's hard to get a clear view of the roofs, but on that ride I also noticed shop owners climbing up piles of their wares to take breaks on the roof and men sitting in chairs chatting. I feel like I discovered a whole new level of the city.

I don't think I've talked much about driving in Kabul, but it really is a free-for-all. There aren't any rules of engagement, no traffic lights or lanes, and traffic at roundabouts goes in all directions. It is a constant game of chicken. M cut off another driver, and the driver pulled up, rolled down the window and politely asked him if he wanted to fight. Honestly, it seems a bit more civilized than the US, where road rage ends in accidents and shooting.

When we reached the base we had to pull in to have the car inspected, but there was a problem and we were told to wait. So, we waited and waited and watched other cars get cleared to go in. When I inquired about the delay, Betsy explained that we were waiting because she refused to pay the guards a bribe to let us in. We were ordered to move from our spot onto the main street and then waited about 20 minutes until one of the guards finally waved us in. While we waited four or five beggar kids came up to the car and knocked on the windows, trying to sell gum and get money. It is really sad. Sometimes they are as young as four and five years old, walking between cars on busy streets with rags, wiping down the cars and hoping for some charity.

Eventually, we entered the base. Once inside we all got out of the car while it was checked with mirrored poles (bombs hidden in the undercarriage) and bomb dogs. While the car was being searched Betsy made small talk with the guy in charge, and everyone looked at me uncomfortably thinking that I was an Afghan woman. I joined the conversation, and it was funny to watch the soldiers' reaction to my American accent. M was searched, and one of the soldiers finally asked if we were both American. I said yes, and he said that they didn't have to search me, but they did need to go through my bag. Now, this was hysterical because before we left the house Betsy stuffed my bag full of snack size Dorito bags, cookies and crackers because we would be on the base when the sun set (and the fasting ends) and none of us had eaten all day. You can image the soldiers' expressions as they pulled out bag after bag of snacks.

There is a little bazaar set up for the Afghan vendors, but Betsy is set up separately because she is a non-profit. So, we had a porch area all to ourselves with tables and chairs. It took about a 1/2 hour to get everything displayed, with a 5 minute break because Betsy had to talk to the lead soldier to get the Afghan guard away from our tables - he was ogling us the entire time we were setting up, and Betsy said the Afghan vendors probably bribed him to spy on our wares and report back. He disappeared shortly thereafter, and we waited. And waited. I think we were set up by 5, but people didn't wander over to our little porch until 6:30. We made less than 10 sales that night, but we pulled in around $500 because the pieces people bought had a lot of embroidery on them. Then, at 8 we packed everything back up into suitcases and canvas bags, lugged it back to the car, dropped it off at Betsy's and headed home. Needless to say, I was exhausted after working all day and then spending the evening moving wares and shivering (it's getting cold here). It felt great to come home physically exhausted from working for a good cause. Then, I got up at 7:30 am the next day to do it again, at a different base.

Friday was a little more difficult because I'm back on the Kabul diet (got the runs), so I was popping Kaopectate caplets before I left the house. The second base is set up very differently from the first, and we were much busier, but overall it was a similar experience. We made over $3,000 on Friday (9-4) and all three of us were busy most of the time. Betsy was really pleased because that is the biggest day they've had so far, and it was perfect timing for the women who create the crafts - they got their money just in time for the Eid holiday.

Although selling crafts at US Army Bases isn't exactly my ideal volunteer situation, it is one of the few things that I can do as a foreigner that doesn't take an opportunity away from an Afghan, helps Afghan women and gets me out of the house. I still haven't solved the problem of interacting with the local community, but at least I am contributing in some small way. And, admittedly, it's nice to hang out someplace where I can sit outside in short sleeved shirts and jeans and not offend anyone.

*** Sorry, no pictures. Cameras aren't allowed on the bases. . .

an interesting conversation

2006-10-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

Below I pasted an excerpt from a friend's email, and my response.

WD to Evers to Chance:
"It sounds like a real big structural problem (based on what both you and Nathan have said/written) is the illiteracy. Should that be the first and foremost issue to tackle? Also, do you ever feel like it's hopeless? Maybe not gender relations in Kabul, but the fight for equality for women in the broader muslim world? It seems like a hell of a battle at this point. Don't get me wrong, I do believe the most important stuggle in the world is the one for equal rights for women, it's just what we read in the West makes it seem like much of the islamic world (at least from Eygpt to Pakistan) is getting more conservative and repressive, not more open."

My reply:
"Literacy - This is a huge problem in Afghanistan, but how do you teach people how to read when they can't eat, are living in tents in the middle of winter, and more than 80% of the population doesn't have access to clean water? Oh, and over 95% don't have access to sanitation and sewage. Hell, there are places in this country where you have to travel 9 hours on foot or by donkey to reach the nearest city because there aren't any roads. . . And, how do you increase the literacy of the population when many of them refuse to let women attend any kind of schooling? Not only are women more than half the population, but they are the ones who spend time with their kids, who theoretically should be in school. How do you convince a starving family that their 8 year old daughter who does the house chores so that the mother can embroider and sell wares should go to school when the family knows there won't be any jobs for her and she's just going to get married off and have babies anyway? How do you convince people that instead of marrying their daughters off at 12 for some goats and sheep, they should keep her at home (continuing to feed and clothe her) and let her go to school?

My point is, I don't think you can focus on just one area, like literacy. There is a huge push for schooling here - the enrollment rate is up by 400% from 2001 (partially because of repatriation), but the country doesn't have the infrastructure to support it. You also need roads, vehicles, bathrooms, textbooks and teachers. That means you need to get communities involved, including women.

Yeah, I do think the Muslim world is getting more conservative, but I think it is in direct response to Western policies. And, a lot more women are fighting it than ever before, which is a good sign. Or, at least they are fighting it more publicly. Don't forget, the US is also becomming increasingly conservative and repressive - we're in the process of watching our rights slip away under Bush, the Patriot Act and Homeland Security. Alot of the current problems in the Middle East circle back to colonialism and the cold war. One of the biggest mistakes westerners and feminist muslim women made in the 60s and 70s was to tie women's freedom to modernity and the west. Now, the backlash is against the West and anything tied to it or seen as culturally foreign - including women's rights. Ironically, what the Taliban practices isn't even close to Islam, and fundamentalist movements in general miss the spirit of Islam. Fudamentalism is extreme political conservatism parading as religion. It's really sad.

It is a hell of a battle, but I think that women will win in the end. More women in the Muslim world are educated every year, and that is the key to women claiming their rights. The current political dichotomy of pitting the West against Islam is tragic because so many people are suffering on the periphery. At any rate, modern history in the Muslim world shows that conservative trends move in waves, so things are bound to swing around eventually. The more Bush and the West screw around in the Middle East, the longer it will take to swing, but it will, eventually."

Maybe I'm too optomistic.

*** Pic is of the conversators - no, of course it isn't from Kabul

LOOK . . . A Ninja!

2006-10-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

Or maybe just a "modestly" covered woman who has been trapped indoors too long . . .

Burqa Dolls and Hydroponics

2006-10-12T04:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went shopping. Not in the ususal sense of going to malls or stores, but by going over to Betsy's house (she's the christian fundamentalist temporarily living with us). I've complained about her before, but I don't think I've fully explained what she is doing here, partially because I didn't really understand myself until last night.

Betsy came to Afghanistan 5 years ago with about $3000 and a desire to help Afghan women. She set herself up with some refugee women living in Kabul, and has started several interconnecting projects with them. She has been teaching them how to do hydroponic gardening, helping them to increase the quality of their embroidery work and find markets for it, and she has been running literacy courses - all with the same group of women. She started with about 5 participants, and now she has 65 women who regularly delivery embroidery work, take reading classes, and run small hydroponic gardens. The really amazing part is that Betsy has absolutely no background in development, women's studies or Afghanistan. She just woke up one morning and knew that she needed to come to Afghanistan to help the women here.

Betsy lives in an apartment not far from my neighborhood, on her own. It is a smallish three room flat overflowing with handicrafts. Now, Betsy is a genius at marketing these women's work, and we're not just talking about embroidered pillowcases. She has taught her women how to make laptop bags with embroidery, wine bottle covers, i-pod and digital camera cases, backpacks, duffel bags, and non-traditional clothing. Add this to the more traditional wares of tableclothes, bedspreads, sheets, tapestries and Afghan clothes, and you begin to get the picture. She runs this operation with one Afghan man -- she handles all the inventory (which is quite complicated since most of the women she works with are illiterate) including special orders, creates mock-ups of new designs, sells the wares at the army bases on Fridays, teaches hydroponics and literacy classes, holds weekly self-help workshops teaching the women basic business skills and has become a part of their community.

She is truly an insipiring example of how one person can really make a difference in other people's lives - even if I don't agree with her religious philosophy. So, I've offered to start helping her cart her wares to the army base on Friday mornings, and hang out and sell stuff. I think it'll be good for me - get me out of the compound and doing something that feels useful. Although I am going to miss my morning to sleep in . . .

**pic is of an anatomically correct burqa doll. These are not original to Betsy's project, although these are the only ones I've seen with cleavage. . .

Absurdities

2006-10-08T00:43:00.000-07:00

1. Every day at noon we hear a series of loud BOOMS. It is a company that is exploding landmines near my neighorhood - it is also how we know when it is lunchtime.

2. I recently met a guy who studied at my university, in my program, but graduated a year before me. He is studying Arabic while he is Kabul, because he wants to work in the Middle East, even though he doesn't speak a word a Dari.

3. I'm living is what is one of the most infamously conservative Islamic countries in the world, yet in my bathroom next to the toilet I find book titled, "A Portrait of Jesus," left by my fundamentalist Christian roommate in the hopes of converting me (I assume).

4. I recently saw a sign advertising a computer store in my neighborhood. It said, "We have hardwars and softwars".

**I will continue to add to these as I am inspired . . .
***Pic is of myself and my brothers on vacation this summer

Sunset in Kabul

2006-10-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

Laying a Foundation

2006-10-06T00:57:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night Nathan and I went over to Waise's house for his going away party. He was planning on leaving in a few weeks, but due to series of unfortunate events with the Afghan minister of defense he decided to leave sooner than planned. We went over around 7, because Waise wanted us to help set up for the party. I was envisioning meeting Waise's family and friends, but turns out Waise's father was out of town and the party ended up being mostly NGO workers (which was fine with me).

Waise's father collects Afghan craftwork; tapestries, swords, and all kinds of little works of art. It was cool to see these displayed in an Afghan house, although I wouldn't describe either the home or lifestyle as "traditional". We hung out with Boogie Nights playing on the TV in the background drinking and chatting. I met a guy who lived in Jerusalem for a while, and another who was studying at the American University of Cairo this past year. Rory Stewart, the guy from the Turquoise Foundation showed up late -- and remembered my name, which surprised me. After shoveling a plate full of food into my face around 10pm (I'd been under the impression we were going for a late iftar, and so was absolutely starving by the time the food showed up), I settled down next to Ben from Pittsburgh and started chatting with him. Then, Rory came over and plopped down on the ground next to me.

Now, my last encounter with Rory was a weird combination of intellectually stimulating and annoying, so I wasn't sure where this was going. Ben immediately started talking to someone else (Rory is his boss), so I was stuck. The conversation started out okay, but turned into an hour long discussion of the evils of NGOs with Rory quizing me about how I would handle myself in different situations and why was I in Afghanistan anyway? So, I explained that I was hardly an expert on Afghanistan and I couldn't answer his questions about my vision for Afghanistan in 20 years or what exactly the NGO community hoped to achieve in the long term. He responded by telling me that I was absolutely typical of the NGO community who had no real commitment or connection to Afghanistan or the Afghan people.

The annoying part is that he is right, I don't have any particular connection to Afghanistan . . . I'm just traveling through for a while, here to learn as much as I can while I'm here before moving on to someplace else. . . I've already decided that I won't stay in Afghanistan beyond my scheduled 3 months unless my NGO offers me a job here -- I'm not going to look for other opportunities. I feel too separated from the community I'm trying to help, and I want to live somewhere where I can walk down the street by myself without it being a major security risk.
Eventually the conversation turned to gender in Afghanistan, and how does one work on changing gender relations here? I responded by explaining what my NGO's policy and gender programming is -- and even to myself I sounded like I was reciting a bunch of technical jargon. Rory was arguing that the only way to really institute substantive change is through revolutionary action, and he was using the communist movement as a model. I responded by saying that if Afghanistan is going to have a gender revolution it will have to come from the Afghan's themselves, because it is not the place of the international community to stir up that kind of social conflict in a place that is already pulsing with anger at the foreign occupiers. Besides, if radical gender shifts are forced by outsiders, they will be viewed as an invasion of foreign culture and won't last. These sorts of changes have to be homegrown to take root - never mind the danger to Afghan women (and men) trying to radically change society right now. It would be easy, and irresponsible, for internationals to stir that up and then run away when things got messy. Then he asked me, well what are you doing here then?

I said that we are laying a foundation, helping Afghan men and women create a platform that they can use to institute the kind of gender changes that they find appropriate for their culture and society. But how can the NGO community accomplish that if they are not commited to staying here for the long haul? That wasn't Rory's question, it was mine.

I was relieved when it was time to go; talking to Rory is uncomfortable partially because he is so socially awkward -- he stares at the ground while the other person talks and grimaces constantly -- but mainly it is uncomfortable because he asks me questions that I don't have answers to, nebulous questions that were already gathering on the horizon of my consciousness but that hadn't crystallized yet. And, if I'm going to be honest, because no one likes to be told that they are an absolutely typical representative of NGO workers - young, idealistic, and ignorant. That bruised my ego and put me on the defensive early in the conversation - particularly because at least two of the three are true in the context of Afghanistan.

He asked me if I'd be willing to live in an Afghan village for 20 years and work on gender issues. The suggestion of living the rest of my life that way was not at all appealing to me. I responded that I'd be willing to do that in a Palestinian village, but I didn't know Afghanistan well enough to say yes or no. But that wasn't true -- I already know that I wouldn't be willing to live in an Afghan village for 20 years.

In totally unrelated news, I have been promoted from intern to gender analyst. Well, not really. That is what my business cards will say, but I'm still getting intern pay and none of the expat employee benefits. But, it will look much better on my resume.

I'm considering not coming home for Christmas, and instead going to Beirut to visit my good friend Marcy and look for work and then to Syria to visit my friend Bob. Just thoughts at the moment. . .

*** 1st pic is of myself Waise and Nathan; 2nd is of a basin and jug similar to what Waz used to wash our hands before dinner (see earlier entry); 3rd is of Nathan and Waise and the liquor for the party (how terribly un-Ramadan of us); and the last if of a tapestry hanging in Waise's house.

White City and Fundamentalists

2006-10-02T03:46:00.000-07:00

The last few days have been very tense here. There were three suicide attacks in and around the city yesterday morning. The UN has declared a "White City" which means all internationals (and anyone who values their life) should keep movement to an absolute minimum. The security forces apparently caught another wannabe suicide bomber, and another potential bomber was spotted riding a bike through the city - I guess someone noticed he was acting oddly and had wires sticking out of his shirt . . . Today there was a suicide bombing in Kandahar City.

I'm feeling very stir crazy. I haven't exactly been out exploring the city since I've been here, but I hate being stuck at home. I think the UN codes are a little funny . . . I wonder if they have an "Emerald City" code. It would be appropriate -- sometimes I feel like I'm in the middle of fairy tale. Not a children's fairy tale with happy endings; more like an original fairy tale -- gruesome and often heartbreakingly sad. I realize that sounds quite depressing, and I don't mean to imply that I am depressed. I am trying to explain how difficult it is to wrap my mind around some of the things that people will do and have done to each other. I'm not limiting this discussion to Afghanistan -- I think the US takes the cake this week for the murder of 5? Amish girls in their school. That is the sort of disturbing story we've come to expect from Afghanistan; a man sending the boys out and killing the girls . . .

I spent this evening with one of my temporary roommates, a nice woman from Virginia who came to Afghanistan 5 years ago to work with Afghan refugee women. She came here alone, with a mission, and has been wildly successful in her work. B was kind enough to hunt down beer for Nathan and I (quite a commodity in Kabul these days), so we spent the evening with her enjoying Heinekens. Unfortunately it turned into my second conversation with her about Christianity, and Christ as the savior, and the lost cause of the Palestinians (of course Israel will win), the evils of Islam (she believes that the Prophet Mohammed was visited by Satan, not Gabrielle when he received the Quran), and, well, you get the gist. Compounded with a crappy day at work, this has made me a little grumpy. I can ignore the religious talk, but when she starts on her rants about how Islam supports suicide bombing, and how the real problem makers in Afghanistan are all Arabs sneaking into the country and blowing themselves up it makes me want to scream. Unfortunately, she is a guest of my boss (one disadvantage of living with your coworkers) so I have to really watch what I say. ARGH.

Last night, she and a consultant visiting and staying with us were having a very serious discussion about whether or not the way Afghans fight (invaders and themselves) is due to genetic coding. Talk about frustrating, not to mention racist.

On a more positive note, I may be traveling again this weekend - the consultant is traveling to Kunar to interview some of our NGOs, and she said I could tag along if I wanted. I'd love the opportunity to see more of the country, and take some more pictures. One of the most frustrating parts of being here is that I came here to help the Afghan people, and I suppose I am in some abstract ways, but I am completely separated from them because of the security situation. When you combine that with the complex social codes of what is and isn't acceptable behavior from a young woman making social contacts becomes a little daunting.

I had other things to write about, but I'm all wound up now so it will have to wait for another time.

Warm Welcome

2006-09-30T02:58:00.000-07:00

Friday, I spent the morning with a gender consultant who has 12 years experience working in Afghanistan. The country director of my NGO arranged the meeting to give me an opportunity to network and ask questions about my career trajectory, opportunities, etc. . . It was really nice of Tilly to arrange the interview, but the woman really wasn't very helpful. She told me not to bother pursuing a career in Afghanistan (wasn't planning on it) because there are too many gender people here -- then she suggested I try Sudan. I could have come up with that on my own . . .

Later I met Nathan at a restaraunt down the street, where we talked about work. Eventually, Waise and his friend Sharna joined us. Sharna is an Australian NGO worker who was helping Waise conduct interviews for his documentary at the international military base (I guess the soldiers are pretty excited to talk to a woman). We shared baba ghanoush and humos and talked about various experiences in Kabul. Sharna's been here for about a month, and I guess her first night here a missile accidentally landed in the garden of their compound. Apparently Sharna has developed an amazing ability to sleep through anything -- she attributes it to 5 months in Morocco. This, combined with her jetlag, let her sleep right through the explosion. It wasn't until her roommate woke her up that she smelled the burning deisel and realized what was going on . . .

There were three stray missiles. One landed in a park, one landed in my County Director's friend's compound, and one landed in Sharna's compound. Nothing like a warm welcome. . .

Sharna was also telling us that she went to a party at the Italian embassy, which ended up getting busted by the police for the noise. She said the police entered the compound in the middle of a strip tease being done by the off duty Italian security guys on one of the balconies of the building. That couldn't have helped the reputation of foreign workers in Afghanistan. . .

*** Blurry picture from Kabul. I haven't been able to get many good ones from the moving car yet.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I haven't really been talking about the security situation here, but by all reports the security in Kabul is increasingly uncertain. There was another suicide bombing this morning - at the Ministry of Interior. It is unclear how many people were injured/killed at this point. The blast was at 8am; I was sleeping and didn't hear anything (I'm not close to the MoI). This is the 65 suicide boming in Afghanistan this year, according to our security officer. The provinces of Kandahar and Helmut have been hotbeds for the insurrgency in the last few years, but more and more of the bombings are finding their way into the capitol city.

Iftar and Star Wars

2006-09-30T02:37:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, Nathan invited about half of the male staff over to the staff house for Iftar. I was exhausted from the Jalalabad trip, so I crawled into bed for a nap before sunset. Baba Gee, our cook, prepared a feast that made Iftar at Waz's house look like a snack. There were Pakistani style kabobs (awesome), roast beef, rice, fruit salad, lamb, other things that I can't remember, and dessert. Unfortunately I wasn't able to really enjoy the meal as I seem to have eaten something that is corroding my innards.

Dinner was a little awkward because I was the only woman present. At one point, one of the staff members asked me, pointedly, if women eat with the men in Kuwait. I said, well, not always, but I do. That ended that.

After Iftar, we all settled down in the living room to watch Star Wars, Episode I. Nathan is attempting to introduce the staff to the better parts of American culture via George Lucas. He had already showed Episodes 4, 5, 6. Now, the funny part about this is that incrementally, Nathan will stop the movie to explain what is going on, and to give the Afghans a deeper understanding of the philosophy behind the Star Wars movies . . . Between Nathan's explanations and the constant ringing of cell phones (the movie stops for cell conversations) it took 3 hours to watch the movie. It was a lot of fun, and I think the concept of the evening - Iftar and Star Wars, is probably unique in the history of dinners in Kabul.

The guys have promised to bring over some Pashtun movies, so that they can introduce us to some of the funnier parts of Afghan culture. . .

*** Picture is of taxi transports in Jalalabad

The Road to Jalalabad

2006-09-28T23:25:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, I left Kabul for the first time since my arrival and traveled to Jalalabad to continue our gender impact assessment with one of our partner organizations located there. It takes about 2 1/2 to 3 hours to travel to Jalalabad from Kabul, and by my estimation the roads are pretty awful. Apparently until last year, the same trip took over 6 hours because of how much worse the roads used to be. The road conditions are very sketchy - narrow, steep curvy mountain roads without guard rails, uneven pavement and big potholes. I guess the road used to full of craters from missile blasts, so this is a huge improvement. We passed construction on the road, and the government is paving the roads - in one spot there were even lines on the road - not that anyone knew what they were for.

On the way there are a variety of checkpoints that we had to stop at, but for the most part they just spoke to the driver briefly before waving us on. The drive itself was stunning. We were driving through the mountains just after sunrise, with the Kabul River sparkling on the left as the sun peeked out over the mountains. Once we entered Nangahar province, we had to wear our shawls . . . Nangahar Province and Jalalabad are more conservative than Kabul City.

We arrived at the NGO office, completed our interviews and left immediately to trek back to Kabul. The roads aren't safe after dark, both because they are trecherous and for security reasons. We had a little caravan; myself, Waz, the driver and the security guard in the first car, and another car with another security guard following us in a second car. I was not happy when I realized the guard in the second car was a Ministry of Interior police officer, in full uniform. The Taleban are currently targeting foreign military, Afghan gov't officials and NGO workers. We were trying to be subtle, and this guy was not helping.

We stopped three times on the way back -- once to argue with a checkpoint guard who was trying to re-route us onto a longer and less safe road back to Kabul (we won), once to buy pommegranites in a little village, and once because there was a pick up truck full of young Afghan men blocking the road. The last stop scared me a little because there were all these men in the truck, and other men on the side of the road (construction workers), and the ministry of interior guard got out with his big gun and started talking to them asking them to move. They moved, but it was a tense few minutes.

After returning to Kabul, completely exhausted (I only got about 3 hours of sleep before the trip) I checked my email and discovered that a security warning had been sent out for that day -- all foreigners were warned against traveling to Nangahar Province because of reports of Taleban action. . . The report said, "JALALABAD, Sep 28 Security officials Thursday claimed detaining four suspects along with weapons and other explosives in the eastern Nangarhar province." Hmmm. . . Well I'm glad I got to see a little of Jalalabad when I did, because it looks like it will be off limits for a while. . .

Please Check Your Weapons at the Door

2006-09-27T05:53:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the PXs for the first time. I guess PX is a military term for store, but the shops I visited were not on an army base; they were on the outskirts of Kabul and are privately owned. Very obviously catering to foreigners, these places have pretty intense security - they are walled in and have guards at the gate who check the undercarriage of the cars for bombs, and check your passport - I guess you have to be an expat to get in. Both of the PXs that we visited today have signs like the one I've posted in the picture. . .

Inside the PX they have a schmorgasboard (spelling?) of European and American products, everything from sneakers and athlete's food spray to chocolates and coffee. Until recently, they also sold alcohol. Nathan and I stocked up on chips, salsa, ice cream and chocolate (which melted all over the inside of one of the bags), q-tips and shaving cream. Oh, and coke. I am attached to my coke when it's available. . .

On the way out of the second PX - we were on a mission for laundry detergent that wouldn't make us itch - right by the gate to leave, I saw a sign demarking the terror level. Apparently, we are currently at level orange, which is what the US was at when I was leaving. We've had one assassination (of a minister of women's affairs) and several suicide bombings, or suicide bomb attemts since I've been here. I think it is fascinating that Kabul and Chicago are on the same terror alert at the moment. . .

Tomorrow I'm going to Jalalabad to visit some of our partner NGOs. I will definitely bring my camera and try and get some decent pictures. So far, all of my photo ops in Kabul have been from a moving vehicle, and they don't come out very well . . .

Iftar

2006-09-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

When I was in Palestine during Ramadan last year, I gained about 10 lbs because I wasn't fasting, but I was eating iftar (the meal to break the fast) every day. Now, this is a very special meal - in fact, I wouldn't even call it a meal - I'd call it a feast. An entire month of feast and famine, over and over again. The food has never been anything less than amazing, regardless of the country I am in, and there is one other little detail that is consistent across boundaries -- the harassment to EAT EAT EAT. As a guest, it is your duty to shovel as much of that wonderful food into your stomach as humanly possible, and then to contine eating for another half-hour. Afghanistan is no exception.

I went to my first iftar at a co-workers house in Kabul. There was enough food to feed a horde a grad students, but there were only five of us . . . you can imagine my dilemma. Luckily, Nathan, Anika and I stepped up the plate and did our part. Most of the Ramadan traditions are similar to what I had seen in other places - breaking the fast with figs, then praying, then starting with soup. This soup was called Oosh, and it was really tasty. Before we ate, our hostess asked us to kneel over a large silver basin, and she poured water onto our hands from a silver pitcher. She said it was tradition to wash guests hands before a meal in this manner, and that it was an honor for the pourer and the pouree.

So we ate, and ate and ate and Waz told us a story about her grandmother. Many Afghan families eat on their roofs in the summertime because it is cooler. I guess, her grandmother was encouraging a relative to eat more, and she kept saying, "Eat," and trying to put more food on his plate, and he kept scooting backwards while saying "No, thank you". Apparently he scooted a little too far and fell off the roof of a two story building. He survived, which makes the story absolutely hysterical, and puts the social pressure of eating into context.

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Earlier that day I was visiting some of our local NGO partners, helping with an assessment of ourselves and our partner organizations. At one of the offices a woman spoke to me in Dari, assuming I was an Afghan. Turns out, it was my co-worker's sister, and I saw her at the house during iftar. There are over 4 million people in this city . . . what are the chances?

Curfew

2006-09-22T13:13:00.000-07:00

Today, Friday (weekend here is Fri and Sat), I spent the bulk of the day cleaning up my notes from Thursday's interview. I didn't have any plans to go anywhere, which is good because we were put on curfew from 12-4. I guess one of the religious leaders in Afghanistan declared a Day of Anger in response to the Pope's insensitive comment. There were several peaceful protests scheduled, and that means internationals stay home. During the riots here in May, I guess our staff house was targeted (we are close to the Parliament) and every window in the building was smashed. I guess one of the security guards shot his gun off in the air and the mob moved down the street. So, protests mean stay inside.

Thankfully, nothing happened.

Tonight Anika, Nathan and I went out for dinner at a Lebanese restaurant. The food was very good, and they even had alcohol. I guess it is now illegal to sell alcohol - restaurants are allowed to finish off their current supplies, and then the country will be dry. Sitting outdoors, eating mezza, with people smoking sheesha around me made me feel like I was back in Palestine. Funny how I can be homesick for a place I only lived in for a few months. . .

Seeing Turquoise

2006-09-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

Thursday was grueling at work, I was taking notes all day while Anika (my old supervisor from DC who is here for 10 days) conducted training assessment interviews. That means she was asking staff questions about the trainings they had received to figure out how effective they have been -- it also meant that I spent the entire day frantically typing. We were sitting in the conference room, and after the first interview I went looking for a really thick book to sit on because the chairs at the table were too short me to type comfortably at the table (because I'm so short, not because the chairs weren't proportionate to the table).

Afterwards we went to a new restaurant just around the corner from our house. Turns out the manager is Egyptian; the very first place I visited in Afghanistan is one of the big Arab hangouts . . . go figure. After dinner Nathan and I joined his friend Wise (An Afghan raised in the Phillipines and the US) at a Turquose Foundation event in an old palace inside Kabul. The palace is lived in, and being rennovated by the author of the book The Places in Between, Rory Stewart. I haven't read the book yet, but apparently he traveled around Afghanistan by himself, visiting villages and meeting Afghans from all parts of the country. Rory used the proceeds from his book to start the Turquoise Foundation (http://www.turquoisemountain.org/), which is a non-profit that is working to preserve and restore Afghan heritage, while also training Afghan's in traditional arts like caligraphy and beautiful, intricate wood carving.

Rory certainly seems like an interesting guy, he was kind enough to give us a brief tour of the palace and the exhibits that were still up (we arrived a little late). Then we got to talking about NGOs in Afghanistan and what good, if any, they are doing here. He and Nathan went round and round - I didn't contribute too much seeing as I had just arrived - but both of them made very valid points. I hate feeling like I am part of a colonizing force; I know the kind of work my NGO does is usually relevant, helpful and smart - meaning that we are teaching Afghans how to do everything so that it will be sustainable after we leave - but Rory still made some good points, even if he was a bit pompous. Just living in the staff house, with its walls and security, is so different from my experience in the West Bank. I dislike feeling so separate from the people I am here to help - and how arrogant is it of me to think that I can help these people at all?

By the time we left the party it was after 11, and our drivers stop working at 11, so we called Easy Ride - a taxi service for internationals with drivers that have had security clearance and training. On the way back to the staff house we were pulled over at an Afghan police checkpoint. The officer talked to the driver, then pulled open the minivan door (which was on my side) and started asking questions. He asked if we all spoke English, and both Nathan and Wise said yes. I didn't say anything at first, then I realized that I was probably the one he was waiting to hear from, so I said yes as well. He sneered at us for a moment, then slammed the door and waved the taxi on.

Now, checkpoints don't really bother me, and this didn't either until I commented to Nathan and Wise that I guess that answers my question about carrying my passport with me at all times (a must in Palestine because of the checkpoints). Wise just laughed and said a passport wouldn't make any difference at all. That made me a little nervous. My American passport was always my shield and trump card when I was in the West Bank. Both the Israeli soldiers and I knew that they couldn't really do anything to me except make me wait unless I did something drastic. Guess it doesn't work that way here. Welcome to the Afghanistan . . .

Once we got back to the house Wise showed up some footage that he's taken. He's making a documentary about the training of an Afghan army unit. It was pretty interesting; a lot of night shooting (guns and camera), and one part where Wise fell into a 6 ft ditch because he was looking through the camera lense instead of where he was going . . .

I think this night was a good example of what my time here will be like. A lot of questioning what the hell I'm doing here, meeting really interesting people, and feeling vaguely unsettled.

Arrival in Afghanistan, or Manistan as Nathan calls it

2006-09-20T11:03:00.000-07:00

You'd think preparing for a 3 month stint in Afghanistan would be easy after 5 months in Palestine, but I found myself frantically packing the night before my trip, feeling vaguely uneasy that I was forgetting something really, really important. This is my own fault - I mistakenly thought my flight was leaving Monday morning, but luckily I checked my ticket Sat morning and realized I was actually leaving Sunday, September 17th. So, you can image my mental state Saturday as I zoomed around tying up loose ends, running errands, and wondering the the back of my mind what else I had forgotten . . .

Also, packing for life in Afghanistan is quite difficult for a woman preparing to leave from the US. Finding loose fitting tunic shirts that go down to mid-thigh tends to be a bit difficult at your average American shopping mall. Eventually I figured out that shopping in the Women's Plus section (thank you, Fashion Bug!) was one way around this cultural difference. Maternity shirts, however, are where I draw the line. The trick is to be culturally sensative while still managing to look profession (not sloppy). It is quite difficult, and I don't think I was totally successful, but I can always buy new clothes here.

The mental preparation for a trip to Afghanistan is more difficult. I assessed the situation and decided that the merits of the trip far outweighed the risk, in a very rational manner (in my personal, somewhat biased opinion) but the reactions I received from most of the people around me made me doubt my judgement. My family and friends were understandably concerned, but overall supportive of my decision. It was the responses from the nurse at the vaccination clinic, the woman checking me out at Fashion Bug who wanted to know why I was buying clothes twice my normal size, my doctor's nurse, and acquiantences in general that bugged me. Obviously these people aren't important in my life - hell, I don't care about thier opinions at all - but when I told the Fashion Bug woman I was going to Afghanistan and she gasped, drew back from the register with eyes as big as saucers and asked me if I was okay - well, that was a bit unnerving.

I felt much better once I was on the plane leaving Syracuse (after the "random" full security check and pat down). And I felt even better when I got to O'Hare airport in Chicago and noticed that considerate smokers had duct taped liters to fences by the exit for all the poor literless smokers like me. The flight to Delhi was long, but my seatmate was nice enough, and really it was as pleasant as a 15 hr flight in an economy seat can be. The hotel in Delhi was beautiful, although there was a little confusion over whether I or my NGO was paying for the room, and the flight to Kabul was uneventful until we hit the turbulence just before we landed. The airport is dingy little place, and the customs line was slow moving but uneventful.

One of my new co-workers (with security guard and driver in tow) picked me up at the airport and brought me straight to the staff house - the high walled, 24 hr security building that hosts the internationals working with my NGO. The staff house is much nicer than I expected; there is a big yard with lots of flowers, hot water, and I have my own little room with a balcony. We even have wireless internet connection (internet connection was my biggest problem in Palestine). It is a little weird living one room over from both of my bosses, but I'm sure I will adjust, and it is really nice having Nathan downstairs. Nathan is a good friend from grad school, and the person who hooked me up with the internship with this NGO in DC that has brought me to Afghanistan.

The next day, Wednesday, was my first day at the office. I met the staff, mostly Afghans, who all seem very friendly and profession, and tried to avoid any major social faux pas. I've already been asked twice if I am an Afghan, which amuses me to no end because no one ever thinks that I'm an Arab when I'm in the Middle East (which I actually am).

Nathan was traveling in the country visiting projects when I arrived, so we had our joyous reunion Wed evening - we reminisced about MillerStock, I delivered his Star Wars books, and we drank a beer.