Demonstrations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.