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"