This from the backseat on my recent trip....
I have now been in-country for about 18-hours. Crammed in the back of a Toyta Land Cruiser circa presumably somewhere post-1987, we speed north from Kabul toward the town of Phuli Khumbri in Baghlan province, through the majestic Salang pass. It is not so much a highway as a slab of tarmac at times roughly the width of two lanes, that snake through a landscape composing mostly mud-type dwellings, farmland and hundreds of little shops with hanging bags of flour and sugar and bottles of warm Fanta.
It is abundantly clear from my back seat where the sun is punishing my right cheek, that the driving in fact poses the greatest threat to life and limb. Apart from the potholes that could swallow a motorcycle, we also share the surface with bicycles, donkey carts, amputee adolescents, kids pushing barrows, women in blue burkas, and men on tractors. As in the middle east, driving in Afghanistan should also be considered a contact sport, and treated with the utmost respect at all times. As our driver alternates between his forever-ringing mobile and the buzzing of the comms system in the cruiser, we go between a dodgy 110km (I know we have reached this speed every time the annoying ding-ding-ding alarm goes off), suspension wobbling around the unsuspecting bends, and very abrupt stoppages, mostly to navigate one of the incredibly high speed bumps (for which I am increasingly thankful), or simply to avoid the oncoming Corolla with lights now flashing. And as in the middle east, remember, you can always drive a car without a steering wheel, but you cannot ever, attempt to operate a vehicle sans horn.
The dust has formed a caked layer of insulation in my nose. My scarf provides some protection from the baking sun, while my white linen pants looks even more starkly white draped across the Afghan carpet that serves as a seat cover. We swerve for a vehicle of some sort, slam on the brakes for another bump, and straight ahead lie the absolutely majestic Hindokush mountain range, still adorned in snow from the long harsh winter endured this year. At the base of the mountain the driver stops at his favorite stop to pick up some sodas (Pepsi seems to be a favorite breakfast cereal for workaholic NGO-types). We hit the "road" again, and this time drive parallel to the river now in full flood after recent rains, unnecessarily augmented by the massive snowmelts. Everywhere the destruction is evident, washed out bridges, missing pieces of road. Men in turbans and bulging pilazzo pants are knee high in water collecting and breaking stones which they load into large wire-mesh cubes that line the side of the road, presumably to repair the broken road, and hopefully to provide some retainment for future floods.
The pass is beautiful though, with mud dwellings built directly into the walls and people making their way to and fro. Kids walk along the side of the road with their bright backpacks over black uniforms, on their way to school. I wonder who funded the road, with its tunnel-like structures to try and keep the integrity of the road in the most daring corners, I think it was the Japanese.
We arrive at our destination after the four hour journey. The meeting is in full swing. We are first brought to the base manager's office where the house manager serves us a breakfast of fresh flat bread and two fried eggs with lots of salt and pepper. Heaven. The coffee is still bad, black Nescafe can only go so far - we will have to find the coffee plunger and procure some descent coffee, or it is going to be a loooong six months. The meeting goes well, there are about ten expats and twenty-five Afghan staff, all long-time employees of the organizations with tons of experience. I learn a lot. Can almost navigate my way through most of the new flavor of alphabet soup I was exposed to like CDCs, PMs, PMUs, CDPs.... but much more to come. Oh, and my assigned based was changed from the sleepy, rural town of Kunduz to the historical town of Mazar i-Sharif. Stay tuned for a write-up on Mazar and more impressions from Afghanistan in a day or so.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Coming to Afghanistan
I have been in Afghanistan for exactly two days now, though it feels more like two months. I am in our office in Phuli Khumbri, a town where the road splits to go north west to Mazar i-Sharif, and northeast to Kunduz. I am here for the senior staff meeting of one of our largest programs, and this has given me an immediate jump into the work and the people. How immediate you ask?
Well, to give an idea of my travel schedule of the past week...I arrived Paris on Tuesday morning, had training Wednesday and Thursday and departed with my Afghan visa in hand on Friday afternoon. A 0200 arrival at Dubai international on Saturday morning, saw me navigate a very crowded and humid arrivals hall only to learn that there is no easy way to transfer to Terminal 2, rather it requires a taxi ride for the 10km or so to the other side of the airport. Inside Terminal 2 it reminded me of a small airport in any remote town. At least it was clean. There I spent the hours between 0200 and 0630 uncomfortably balancing on a coffee shop chair eating hummus and drinking coffee, before I could clear security after purchasing a one-way ticket from Kam Air to Kabul for $225.
A few more hours in a stuffy terminal coffee shop where the cups leak and the smoke ventilators don't work, and I boarded the plane with a large contingent of British Personal Security Details (PSDs) a few diplomats, a smattering of NGO-folks and a bunch of Afghans who must have come to Dubai to shop for their businesses, because not even I, the queen of large carry-ons, have ever packed a bag that was so heavy I could hardly move it.
The flight was uneventful, the food scary, and the coffee terrible. I dozed in and out of a trance-like sleep as I wondered who would eventually pick me up at the airport, since that was still up in the air due to the expected lock-down in Kabul at the time (read my piece: the Landing and the Lockdown). At my last discussion with Chris in Paris I finally gave him my country director's mobile number and asked him to sort it out with her since I knew I would have limited access to telecommunications for the next 24-hours. On approach I had a huge knot in my stomach as the mountain grew bigger and bigger in the window to my left. I must say, if I had my choice between landing with a local airline between the mountains surrounding Kabul, or flying with a twin-prop over Baghdad for the 20,000 foot spiral drop, I'll take the spiral - it doesn't involve anything we can fly into.
The arrivals hall was the usual absolute chaos as expats and nationals fought their way through passport control and the always-too-small baggage collection room to search for luggage convinced lost. In addition to the baggage-scramble, all the expats are required to complete a "foreigners registration card" which, I am told, one hands in when you leave the country, only to complete another one upon re-entry. No copy is made nor record kept that I could gather.
But can you imagine my joy when I saw the friendliest of faces in the parking lot when Chris came to collect me! Going on three months and three continents later, we meet again, in another "exotic destination". I got clearance from my country director to spend the night at his guesthouse, since we were not allowed to go up and back...with one condition, she would be picking me up the next morning at 0500 for a field trip to Phuli Khumbri, my current position, for a three-day intensive meeting. Yeah! No rest for the weary. And so, I give you "First Impressions: Afghanistan"
Well, to give an idea of my travel schedule of the past week...I arrived Paris on Tuesday morning, had training Wednesday and Thursday and departed with my Afghan visa in hand on Friday afternoon. A 0200 arrival at Dubai international on Saturday morning, saw me navigate a very crowded and humid arrivals hall only to learn that there is no easy way to transfer to Terminal 2, rather it requires a taxi ride for the 10km or so to the other side of the airport. Inside Terminal 2 it reminded me of a small airport in any remote town. At least it was clean. There I spent the hours between 0200 and 0630 uncomfortably balancing on a coffee shop chair eating hummus and drinking coffee, before I could clear security after purchasing a one-way ticket from Kam Air to Kabul for $225.
A few more hours in a stuffy terminal coffee shop where the cups leak and the smoke ventilators don't work, and I boarded the plane with a large contingent of British Personal Security Details (PSDs) a few diplomats, a smattering of NGO-folks and a bunch of Afghans who must have come to Dubai to shop for their businesses, because not even I, the queen of large carry-ons, have ever packed a bag that was so heavy I could hardly move it.
The flight was uneventful, the food scary, and the coffee terrible. I dozed in and out of a trance-like sleep as I wondered who would eventually pick me up at the airport, since that was still up in the air due to the expected lock-down in Kabul at the time (read my piece: the Landing and the Lockdown). At my last discussion with Chris in Paris I finally gave him my country director's mobile number and asked him to sort it out with her since I knew I would have limited access to telecommunications for the next 24-hours. On approach I had a huge knot in my stomach as the mountain grew bigger and bigger in the window to my left. I must say, if I had my choice between landing with a local airline between the mountains surrounding Kabul, or flying with a twin-prop over Baghdad for the 20,000 foot spiral drop, I'll take the spiral - it doesn't involve anything we can fly into.
The arrivals hall was the usual absolute chaos as expats and nationals fought their way through passport control and the always-too-small baggage collection room to search for luggage convinced lost. In addition to the baggage-scramble, all the expats are required to complete a "foreigners registration card" which, I am told, one hands in when you leave the country, only to complete another one upon re-entry. No copy is made nor record kept that I could gather.
But can you imagine my joy when I saw the friendliest of faces in the parking lot when Chris came to collect me! Going on three months and three continents later, we meet again, in another "exotic destination". I got clearance from my country director to spend the night at his guesthouse, since we were not allowed to go up and back...with one condition, she would be picking me up the next morning at 0500 for a field trip to Phuli Khumbri, my current position, for a three-day intensive meeting. Yeah! No rest for the weary. And so, I give you "First Impressions: Afghanistan"
Friday, April 27, 2007
The Landing and the Lock-Down
The Landing and the Lock-down
Someone once said: “if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.” Hours before my departure from Paris to Dubai and finally on to Kabul this has become my motto for my arrival to my new post in Afghanistan.
[Lock Down] the term used to describe the state that an organization in a volatile environment enters into whenever it wants to restrict the movement of its (particularly expatriate) staff. This may be due to intelligence of a possible attack, or in most cases a purely precautionary matter as in the case of national holidays due to much higher levels of movement of people and vehicles on the roads, and also football matches with its high levels of celebratory fire. Yes, you guessed it, after more than nine weeks of separation, with Chris and I eagerly counting the days until Saturday, that is exactly what awaits us: a complete lock down on the day of my arrival.
What would normally have been a workday was even arranged not to be so due to some national Afghan holiday. Unfortunately though, we just learned that exactly this little bit of “luck” may not be so after all thanks to above-mentioned lock downs enforced by all NGOs (me) as well as the UN (Chris). Practically-speaking this means that I could very well arrive tomorrow and not be able to see Chris due to a vehicle (read: no movement) ban, only to spend the night in the same city, trapped inside our separate compounds. On top of this, my boss informed me of my first visit to the field this Sunday. Departure: 0500. Furthermore, Chris has an all-day conference Sunday and Monday – so instead of spending the day lounging around and the night in a hotel together tomorrow night, we’re now aiming for dinner sometime on Tuesday. You have to admit, it’s pretty funny.
Someone once said: “if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.” Hours before my departure from Paris to Dubai and finally on to Kabul this has become my motto for my arrival to my new post in Afghanistan.
[Lock Down] the term used to describe the state that an organization in a volatile environment enters into whenever it wants to restrict the movement of its (particularly expatriate) staff. This may be due to intelligence of a possible attack, or in most cases a purely precautionary matter as in the case of national holidays due to much higher levels of movement of people and vehicles on the roads, and also football matches with its high levels of celebratory fire. Yes, you guessed it, after more than nine weeks of separation, with Chris and I eagerly counting the days until Saturday, that is exactly what awaits us: a complete lock down on the day of my arrival.
What would normally have been a workday was even arranged not to be so due to some national Afghan holiday. Unfortunately though, we just learned that exactly this little bit of “luck” may not be so after all thanks to above-mentioned lock downs enforced by all NGOs (me) as well as the UN (Chris). Practically-speaking this means that I could very well arrive tomorrow and not be able to see Chris due to a vehicle (read: no movement) ban, only to spend the night in the same city, trapped inside our separate compounds. On top of this, my boss informed me of my first visit to the field this Sunday. Departure: 0500. Furthermore, Chris has an all-day conference Sunday and Monday – so instead of spending the day lounging around and the night in a hotel together tomorrow night, we’re now aiming for dinner sometime on Tuesday. You have to admit, it’s pretty funny.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Why we love to hate Heathrow
After an eleven hour red-eye seated next to a four-month old, you show up at the bastion of international air travel with a 1 hour connection. You walk about a kilometer before a security checkpoint instructs you to combine all of your hand luggage into one (for me that meant stuffing the Sally Williams nougat I brought to share with my fellow trainees in Paris), since "in the UK, we only carry one bag" - whatever. The next step is where you go through security where most everything has to come off, so they can measure to make sure your travel toiletries are <100 mils. At the other end, a monitor with your connecting gate number still eludes you, so you have to learn from the BA counter that it is in fact in Terminal 4, down the long escalator, onto the bus (since, you are of course in terminal 1.)
Three flights of stairs, a ten minute wait for the bus, a twenty minute bus ride, three flights of stairs up to the terminal, this time a three kilometer walk to gate 24, all the way alongside the non-operational people movers, and three more flights of stairs down, onto yet another bus for the final ten minute ride to the plane... the old lady next to me said it best: "next time I'll drive to Paris", after all it is only a one hour flight!
With that, I am in Paris at a health food store we also visited in January (granted the food is great, albeit very expensive, but I'll be honest the visits are more to do with the "wifi spot" sticker on the window). My pre-deployment training starts tomorrow morning. As of last week I was supposed to be the only one in training, but apparently now we are seven in total going to all sorts of exciting places like Pakistan, Sudan, Sri Lanka, and of course, Afghanistan. Must say, working for the NGO sector sure is different than the government. Time will tell how the two compare in effectiveness and results...I am also curious, and remain very excited about the position and the opportunity to work out in the field.
I will be in Paris most probably until Friday and arrive in Kabul sometime Saturday.
Three flights of stairs, a ten minute wait for the bus, a twenty minute bus ride, three flights of stairs up to the terminal, this time a three kilometer walk to gate 24, all the way alongside the non-operational people movers, and three more flights of stairs down, onto yet another bus for the final ten minute ride to the plane... the old lady next to me said it best: "next time I'll drive to Paris", after all it is only a one hour flight!
With that, I am in Paris at a health food store we also visited in January (granted the food is great, albeit very expensive, but I'll be honest the visits are more to do with the "wifi spot" sticker on the window). My pre-deployment training starts tomorrow morning. As of last week I was supposed to be the only one in training, but apparently now we are seven in total going to all sorts of exciting places like Pakistan, Sudan, Sri Lanka, and of course, Afghanistan. Must say, working for the NGO sector sure is different than the government. Time will tell how the two compare in effectiveness and results...I am also curious, and remain very excited about the position and the opportunity to work out in the field.
I will be in Paris most probably until Friday and arrive in Kabul sometime Saturday.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Pretoria to Paris
Beaming from the Boabab Lounge at the newly re-renamed Oliver Tambo International Airport (formerly Johannesburg International, formerly formerly Jan Smuts Airport). I am leaving Pretoria today both with a heavy heart and with a skip in my step (if that is possible), to start my new adventure in Afghanistan.
I will be in Paris ("I loooove Paris in the Spring time"...couldn't resist) for four days and will depart on Friday for Dubai, then on to Kabul Afghanistan on Saturday, where if all goes well, Chris will meet me at the airport (hopefully, because someone has to carry this bag). I am immunized against any and all ailments known to mankind, and have enough anti-biotics and creams and pain killers to start a clinic in Kunduz.
My time in South Africa was extremely fruitful, with a thesis to show for it, and many, many new friends and renewed relationships with so many family and friends. Next stop, Paris.
I will be in Paris ("I loooove Paris in the Spring time"...couldn't resist) for four days and will depart on Friday for Dubai, then on to Kabul Afghanistan on Saturday, where if all goes well, Chris will meet me at the airport (hopefully, because someone has to carry this bag). I am immunized against any and all ailments known to mankind, and have enough anti-biotics and creams and pain killers to start a clinic in Kunduz.
My time in South Africa was extremely fruitful, with a thesis to show for it, and many, many new friends and renewed relationships with so many family and friends. Next stop, Paris.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Afghanistan News
I have added a page element that displays current news articles on Afghanistan, see below the archives in the right-hand column.
Onward and upward
At the Cape Town airport I have a few minutes to reminisce about the past five weeks I spent in Kleinmond. I am wearing a pair of hand-stitched sandals made by Anton, which are lightly brushing against the two canvasses of the paintings done by Dan. I had my last "dish of mussels" at the Shellfish bar, and drank my last Black Label with GeriCasso, the "most famous artist in Kleinmond" (whose painting Afrika Zuid by the way, I really wanted, but couldn't afford - so he's going to try and work a deal with the gallery so I can get it upon my return).
The time there was phenomenal, but most importantly I accomplished what I set out to do - my research project. There is something incredibly exhilarating to stand back and scroll through a piece of work past "Introduction" and then snake your way through dozens of pages of research, analysis, literature and interpretation, and finally end up at "Conclusion". Not unlike a work of art, even after you have signed it, the project can never be truly finished, but completed I guess is something good too. While there is some polishing left to do, I am ecstatic at the reality that I have come to complete this piece of work, and have in fact done so.
For those of you not familiar with what I am doing, I am completing a Masters in African and Development Studies through UCLA. Previously, as an undergraduate at USC I was fascinated by the idea of the young white Afrikaner and how this minority in South Africa views the "new South Africa", with particular reference to the new employment legislation and affirmative action policies, many of which have left Afrikaners disillusioned and angry in the wake of what they view to be "reverse racism." This interest and research culminated in a paper entitled "Cry the Beloved Culture: The Young White Afrikaner in the New South Africa" and followed about fifty off my peers, or "apartheid babies" as I call us, born into the repressive system of apartheid between 1972 and 1982, and effectively not knowing anything else.
As a kind of a follow-up to this project, I chose to focus my MA thesis on almost the exact polar opposite, that of the black female executive in South Africa. Historically located at the intersection of sever discrimination based not only race (since apartheid was not only a racist ideology, but rather involved severe patriarchal and class-discrimination as well), these women lie at the intersection then of discrimination based on race, class and gender.
As a result of the legislation, they are often viewed as only being appointed because they are black, and a woman. As Tony Twine, a Johannesburg economist notes, it sometimes seems as if every organization in South Africa is now looking for a one-legged black female. This topic clearly leaves a lot open for interpretation, and that has certainly been done in the media and research papers. As a fresh approach, my project chose to use the voice of these women themselves to tell their own story of discrimination from a historical point of view, as well as to elude to any changes that may have taken place during the twelve years of democracy in South Africa. In the process I met some of the most powerful black women in South African corporations, entertainment and even the wine making industry. And now, I have written that story. Wish me luck as I present this to my committee. Hopefully I don't need another six weeks to fix it :)
As for now, I am headed to Pretoria for 10 days to see the family and get all my shots, where after I leave for Paris on the 23d for training. I fly to Dubai on the 27th and will be very happily reunited with Chris in Kabul on the 28th (exhausted I am sure, as I have red-eyes all the way!) I still do not have a sense of how long I will be in Kabul, but hopefully long enough to get to know the program and the organization, as my country director is based in Kabul.
Next time I will post some general information on Afghanistan as well as the area that I will be living in. In the meantime, turning yet another page in my busy book...
The time there was phenomenal, but most importantly I accomplished what I set out to do - my research project. There is something incredibly exhilarating to stand back and scroll through a piece of work past "Introduction" and then snake your way through dozens of pages of research, analysis, literature and interpretation, and finally end up at "Conclusion". Not unlike a work of art, even after you have signed it, the project can never be truly finished, but completed I guess is something good too. While there is some polishing left to do, I am ecstatic at the reality that I have come to complete this piece of work, and have in fact done so.
For those of you not familiar with what I am doing, I am completing a Masters in African and Development Studies through UCLA. Previously, as an undergraduate at USC I was fascinated by the idea of the young white Afrikaner and how this minority in South Africa views the "new South Africa", with particular reference to the new employment legislation and affirmative action policies, many of which have left Afrikaners disillusioned and angry in the wake of what they view to be "reverse racism." This interest and research culminated in a paper entitled "Cry the Beloved Culture: The Young White Afrikaner in the New South Africa" and followed about fifty off my peers, or "apartheid babies" as I call us, born into the repressive system of apartheid between 1972 and 1982, and effectively not knowing anything else.
As a kind of a follow-up to this project, I chose to focus my MA thesis on almost the exact polar opposite, that of the black female executive in South Africa. Historically located at the intersection of sever discrimination based not only race (since apartheid was not only a racist ideology, but rather involved severe patriarchal and class-discrimination as well), these women lie at the intersection then of discrimination based on race, class and gender.
As a result of the legislation, they are often viewed as only being appointed because they are black, and a woman. As Tony Twine, a Johannesburg economist notes, it sometimes seems as if every organization in South Africa is now looking for a one-legged black female. This topic clearly leaves a lot open for interpretation, and that has certainly been done in the media and research papers. As a fresh approach, my project chose to use the voice of these women themselves to tell their own story of discrimination from a historical point of view, as well as to elude to any changes that may have taken place during the twelve years of democracy in South Africa. In the process I met some of the most powerful black women in South African corporations, entertainment and even the wine making industry. And now, I have written that story. Wish me luck as I present this to my committee. Hopefully I don't need another six weeks to fix it :)
As for now, I am headed to Pretoria for 10 days to see the family and get all my shots, where after I leave for Paris on the 23d for training. I fly to Dubai on the 27th and will be very happily reunited with Chris in Kabul on the 28th (exhausted I am sure, as I have red-eyes all the way!) I still do not have a sense of how long I will be in Kabul, but hopefully long enough to get to know the program and the organization, as my country director is based in Kabul.
Next time I will post some general information on Afghanistan as well as the area that I will be living in. In the meantime, turning yet another page in my busy book...
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