Painful Perspectives

Photo left: The hillside coming into Kabul from the north is covered in mud-constructed houses.

To put it mildly, things in Afghanistan is not always as it appears. This seems to be most pronounced when frequenting one of the few expat establishments that pride themselves in removing the visitor from the dusty realities that is Kabul. And it was in exactly one of these establishments that I found myself on May 4th.

After a hectic first week in country, including my first field mission a mere sixteen hours after landing (which meant a 5am departure), Chris thought it would be a nice treat to escape from the house he shares with ten other UNOPS people, to the serenity of the Serena Hotel in Kabul. While the guesthouse is one of the best in all of Kabul, inhabited by a group of fascinating internationals from Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia, UK, Canada and Australia - it is still a shared space, somewhat akin to a commune in college.

So on our Friday off, we went to the outrageously decadent brunch at the Serena with all the housemates and opted to stay the night in one of their elegant guest rooms. It was in the room, while looking around the expanse of private space with a clean functioning bathroom that I started thinking. The nightly rate for the hotel came close to the annual salary for the poorest Afghans who often live on less than $1 a day.

Photo right: Women gather around a handpump to fetch water in plastic containers (Northern Kabul)

In a country with a GDP (2006) of only $1,310 and an unemployment rate of over 40%, poverty plagues the dusty streets of Kabul as beggars, young and old, harass passers-by for scraps of food or yell "dolla, dolla" to foreigners frequenting the shops. The GDP relies on agriculture for about 38% of the nation's revenue, while a mere 10% of the economy is related to each the service and industrial sectors. A full 80% of the 15 million people in the workforce are engaged in agriculture as their main source of income. The bottom line is that a shocking 53% of the population of Afghanistan survives below the poverty line.

The next day I was spoilt to a full-body massage in the spa at the hotel. The young Filipino girl skillfully worked out all the knots and pains from a week of constant traveling, all the while chatting to me about how she wants to visit the Blue Mosque in Mazar e-Sharif. Cost of the massage: one month's salary for a judge in Afghanistan.