Still Ramling...

Oh dear – so I intended to write something completely different in this post, but it sort of wrote itself. And guess what – just for a change – it still is incoherent and rambling!!! Apologies for that but I am still going to post it as-is – may come back to edit one of these days, but probably not. I sometimes wonder if having a job where I write so much means that by the time I get to blog entries, I have nothing coherent left to say?

So, by now, everyone who wants to in America, and all those with download facilities in Australia, have seen Monday’s premiere of season two of Prison Break. And I am left, in Afghanistan, consoling myself with a few images of the guys running for a train, that I got from web spoilers…

It is a tough, cruel, life and I am severely deprived. But fear not – I think I have found a source to get the DVDs – just as soon as post comes to Afghanistan. So I should have seen this episode by Christmas…

So now that we have dealt with the most important element of my life right now, we can move on to less pressing matters.

I remember, one particular day in the Philippines, posting about how I was having a not-particularly-fantastic day and then several brilliant friends just stepped in (via email, I believe!) to do extraordinary things for me, and I finished the day reflecting how lucky I was. I have had a few similar weeks here. There has been quite a lot of stress right now, with a lot of stuff going on (most of which I can’t tell you about on an open forum, I’m afraid) and me getting fairly tired. In addition to this, the relentless heat just grinds on and on and I am so fed up with being a walking puddle of sweat! And yet, so many days, when I look at my emails, from family and friends all around the world, I am reminded how incredibly fortunate I am. The love and support I feel from everybody, ranging from “we need your address so we can send you something fun to cheer you up” to “I saw the news and am worried about you and wish you would leave there, but just want you to know I am thinking of you” to “just plain emailing you coz I love you” and of course, my new favourite “will put Prison Break on a DVD and send it to you”!! It all cheers me up no end and I want to put out a mushy and humble thank you to you all…

It is something that I think many people in a profession like mine grapple with – the constancy of saying goodbye. The office here is downsizing, primarily on internationals and there have been a fairly steady stream of fare-thee-wells since I arrived. It is always hard to say goodbye to people and I have been privileged to work with some truly wonderful folks here. When you not only work with, but live with people, you really want them to be fairly fun. The dynamics of a team house can be interesting and it has been quite revelatory to see the emergence of cliques and alliances and to have to try to dodge all of that!

Like pretty much all mass environs, there are people I really enjoy the company of, and people I can pass the time of day with. Fortunately, there is nobody in the team house I dislike, which makes life easier! But a few of my favourites have left or are about to leave, which leaves me feeling a little bereft. It also makes the team house seem a bit empty. There is a constant ebb and flow of people as we come and go and move around the country – I am actually out in the field now – my time out here has extended from ten days to six weeks and I have had to keep putting in calls to Heart for shampoo and chocolate and more books!! Most of my time is spent out in the field which makes for an interesting variety in both company and scenery and which I actually like (access to shampoo notwithstanding!!) I prefer the field work and like the smaller offices in the field – easier to get to know people. Makes me infinitely happy I am a programming person, and not finance (who never leave the base, essentially!)

We have a team house in all of the zones. This is nice – it always seems like you are coming “home” when you drag your poor body from a six-hour road trip through river beds and across rocks and rubble. But there will be familiar faces waiting for you and the smiling guards there, willing to put up with your halting attempts to learn Dari. Our staff are really lovely people and I feel an extra kinship with them in the field – they are very protective of us out here and I think that we have a closer and stronger relationship. They are particularly protective of the women – two nights ago, when I was in the office after dark, the office guard walked me halfway across the field to the team house, where the team house guard then came and met me (did make me think a wee bit of prisoner transfer!) to ensure that I got home safely – made me feel very safe and protected.

I have also acquired more ‘family’ here. I seem to do this everywhere – in the Philippines I had an extra Aunt and Uncle, plus a surrogate mother. Here in Afghanistan, I have acquired another father (don’t worry Dad – you are still my favourite!!) One of the men up here declared to me that I was his adopted daughter and he was going to take care of me. He has four daughters himself, so is quite protective of women. He is a terribly gentle and intelligent soul – just seeing him brings a smile to my face. And he even reminds me a little of my own father (tall, thin, a little patrician, although I think all of you who know my dad would share my inability to imagine him in a turban and long beard!!) He is very sweet – brings me fruit and makes sure that I am comfortable etc.

And slowly but surely, I am falling in love with the country. It can be frustrating beyond belief at times, and I agreed with a colleague today that sometimes it feels like beating your head against a brick wall. And I am eternally glad that I am not an Afghan woman. Yet, the smiles from the people here, the great hospitality, the perseverance in the face of just constant suffering and deprivation. It is incredibly hard to be Afghan, yet when one of the staff says to me “I am proud to be Afghan and I love my country” I just feel all warm and gooey inside – good for him. The country needs a few more million like that…

…sadly – many of the talented ones are at the foreign consulates applying for visas out. It is so often the way. But I guess our battle is to make this a country where people want to stay, not leave…

Just to whet the appetite

I finally have a few photos to share. They are pretty bad quality and the lens seems to be filthy (sorry about all the spots etc) but it will finally give many of you an idea of the land where I was living. I had five or six rolls developed and put on to CD when I was in Melbourne in June, but the location of the CDs is something of a mystery for the minute. Those photos are much better quality, but here are a few snapshots, just to give you a clue (if nothing else - they ably demonstrate just how dry it is there)...

I have more that I will post soon and I will write some stuff as well.

Home and Away...

As many of you know, I absolutely adore my family. And not only because I am legally required to do so. Also, because they completely crack me up. Witness the following extracts from emails (but first, a little context…)

My parents moved house a couple of weeks ago. I still have a bedroom at their house and it is my base in Melbourne. I absolutely adored the old house and was fairly grumpy when they sold it and bought a new, smaller house – the rudeness of it all – them preparing for their age and infirmity now, at the cost of my nice big bedroom and swimming pool!!

Anyway – about a week ago, I received an email from my Aunt, with this passage in it:

I haven't been to see [the new house] yet but am looking forward to it. I will check out how small your bedroom is. I hope there's plenty of cupboard space - I know how much you'll need because I packed up your stuff from your old bedroom.

And then about three days later, this came from my sister:

I have been to the new house twice now, I have unpacked my room and am halfway through yours. So I am the person to yell at if you don't like your new wardrobe arrangement. I thought that your tactic of having more clothes than me in order to get the better room was very sneaky.


Hee!! – totally cracked me up! Was good to have a chuckle at this (and also good to know that I am nowhere near the boxes as they have to be packed and unpacked. I absolutely loathe moving, probably having done it twenty times in my life (not entirely sure and cannot be bothered counting exactly) and hating it more each time I do it.

The funniest (saddest?) thing? That there is probably only one-third of my wardrobe actually in the house – the rest is in storage along with my books and furniture – and many of my shoes.

I actually think that this could possibly be the one reason that I ultimately give up field life. Whenever I am home, I look longingly at the beautiful clothes I have in my wardrobe that I never get to wear any more (there are things there that I have never worn, having been purchased when I was home on leave and then left in the wardrobe) and I sometimes get sick of being field-frumpy. Wears a girl down, you know – the endless bad-hair days (although nobody notices under the scarf!) and the constant not-so-inner glow from the heat! It’s a good thing I have my priorities in order, hey?

Speaking of priorities – there is a fairly bad situation here right now, that overshadows much of the other work that we are doing. And that is drought. The rains have failed in Western Afghanistan this year and crops are also failing – where people should have one meter of wheat, they maybe have twenty centimeters (if they are lucky). This is a huge problem, in a subsistence farming community, and is already leading to massive hunger and social dislocation.

Communities here have several coping strategies for a situation like this. One is to send the able-bodied young men away to find work and send money back. This generally means Iran (every day the queue at the Iranian consulate in Herat stretches for hundreds of meters and moves at an interminable pace) although it could also be Pakistan, or even just Herat or Kabul. This would normally be the first strategy.

Another coping mechanism, although less likely to be openly spoken about, is to sell their daughters. The traditional dowry in Afghanistan is about US$10,000 (many of the young men in the office are saving up for this, so that they can get married) which must be paid to the bride’s father. During hard times, fathers are likely to be less picky about who marries their daughters, and also maybe to accept a discount. There is also a higher chance that a daughter will be sold, not for marriage, but for some other nefarious purpose.

A final strategy (I have left out a various range of other options like depending upon family for help or selling livestock – only available to those more wealthy families) is to move to the camps in Herat for the winter. This would mean a miserable existence on the outskirts of town in a tented community, through the bitter winter. These camps are run, I believe, by the UNHCR and the government. Naturally, the government is quite keen that this not happen, as it is a great strain on the economy to have to care for people there, and causes the social fabric to fray.

We are obviously trying to respond to this. We are working with the government to seek solutions and a call has been put out for international donors. The problem is, Afghanistan is not the focus of attention right now – there is Lebanon, renewed concern about Darfur (Sudan), floods in Ethiopia, volcanoes in Philippines (Hi Pinoys out there – still miss ya!), typhoons in China – you get my drift. The world just seems to be getting worse and worse that there simply is not enough help out there to go around.

Which leaves me feeling singularly useless when I venture out to the field. I feel so stupid, trying to talk to communities about drip irrigation kits, and all they want to talk about is the fact that they have no food at all and are starving. They keep coming back to it again and again and I feel so mean trying to change the subject and get back to the topic at hand. It is so hard to look at a woman who is pregnant, again, and has six children clutching at her skirts, and hollowed out cheeks, and not be able to give her the help she is asking you for – just to tell her that you are working on the problem. Even if we do manage to get assistance in, we won’t be able to help everyone. Sometimes I feel extremely hopeless.

We just to have faith that donors will come through and we will be able to implement the strategies we have designed to feed some people. I guess, in the end, all you can do is what you can do. But driving through the countryside, looking at one barren village after another, it doesn’t seem like very much…

Planes, trains and automobiles (without the trains)

I am back up in the zones again – I feel like my life nowadays just consists of packing suitcases and traveling around. This time I flew up, rather than driving, which is a far swifter and more comfortable experience. It takes six hours to drive up here, but less than thirty minutes to fly! A distance of about 150km.

Right now, the country side is almost completely barren – it is a light brown colour and the hills look like sand dunes from afar, although when you get close to them, you realise that it is actually a sort of sad scrub cover. Everything is incredibly dusty – it gets everywhere and you have to wipe off your computer screen several times a day from the dust! Down in the valleys you might see a stretch of green – a few fields, some trees. This is the only relief from the brown dust that covers the entire country.

Driving is a different matter altogether. I often wear a burqa when traveling long distances, for security, and that thing just totally sucks! I will get a picture one day and post it here. I love to drive through the country side – I have always enjoyed doing that, pretty much any country I have been in – I just love to watch people going about their daily lives and seeing the local scenery. In Afghanistan, however, you can go kilometers without seeing anyone, then you will stumble upon a small village, made entirely of mud huts, that could be from biblical times. There will be some small boys herding sheep or goats, maybe a family on a donkey (the number of times I have looked at a man walking besides a woman on a donkey and exclaimed “hey – it’s Mary and Joseph!”) The only sign of modernity (apart from our 4WD, anyway) might be the occasional motorbike leaning against a wall.

The roads are fairly dire. I have driven across some horrendous roads in Africa, but nothing compares to the ones here. The only reason we can get to here from Herat in six hours is that the first half of the journey is on tarmac road (which we do in an hour) – if it weren’t we would be looking at a minimum of ten hours (and remember that this is summer – in winter the time for everything just about doubles as you dig yourself endlessly out of the mud).

The zone where I am is the only one I can fly to – from here, you must drive everywhere else. This means many hours in a bumpy car going through the mountains and valleys. Due to the bumpiness, it is impossible to sleep in the car, so I get plenty of people watching (and empty space watching) done. I love to watch the family dynamics of people as we whiz past – only small girls are out and about – or the occasional woman with her husband. Mostly it is men and boys.

One of the greatest things is to see a Koochi family go past. The Koochis are the nomadic people of Afghanistan – they move around and camp in great big black tents, toting all their possessions with them. Occasionally I have passed a whole family on the move – if they are wealthy, they will have camels, and you will see a convoy of ten camels, laden to the hilt with blankets, equipment and people, plus other livestock, moving along the road (we have to dodge them) – it is like Lawrence of Arabia! I like to watch the camels from a distance, but am not so keen on them close up, having ridden a particularly skittish one in Egypt a few years ago!!!

Sorry this is not a particularly coherent entry – I am writing it bit by bit as I tend to other things and I don’t think it has a theme! But I just wanted to throw a few thoughts down, especially as I am having limited time to post entries (just working manic hours). I anticipate being in the zones for most of August – I like it in the area where I currently am – although it is still stinking hot, it cools down better in the evening and I can sleep (unlike Heart, where I struggle to sleep in the summer).

Hope to be back with some more coherent thoughts soon…
Toodles