Lots of Friends and Loved Ones

It's almost 4AM.  Yesterday I slept all day. I went to bed the night before and slept more than 24 hours straight.  I guess I was tired.  I think it is a mixture of diarrhea, bendryl, and heat.  It is starting to get hot.  I can't go out for my afternoon walks.  I have to wait until evening or go in the morning.  Despite the fact that it is hot, Kunduz is the best place from what I hear because there is more foliage.  In many other places, great amounts of deforestation has taken place.  Where mountains of forests once stood, bare grassy mountains now take their place.

My team leader came back yesterday.  He said he could kiss the ground of Kunduz.  Compared to the other places this truly is paradise.  Every four months the soldiers from Germany rotate.  This rotation we have the best group.  The commeraderie is very good and we are included.  People like us and invite us go to on missions with them.  People didn't know what the Human Terrain Team was all about before we got here and know they know and they like our work. 

Anosha invited me to go to the Book Day celebration.  It was very nice, held at the Kunduz Hotel.  The usual suspects were there--the director of Women for Afghan Women, the Mayor, the Mullah I met at Women's Day, the advisor to the Reintegration Program (former Taliban and advisor to Karzai), the children from the shelter, and many others.  Local television recorded the event and I again was on TV.  This time for receiving a very undeserved award.  I asked why I deserved this after I sat down and was told because I came so far away to be there.  Yes, and I did do a lot to finally be here.  Then we went to the Women's Center and I witnessed Anosha and one of the local leaders cutting the ribbon for the new women's library.  It is the size of a good sized American basement, but loaded with books.  I noticed it has many legal books.  I brought along a book I had with me--The Miles Inbetween by Rory Stewart.  Both my daughter and former team leader through training gave me the book to read before I came here.  I think he saw some of the darker side of life in Afghanistan, but it was the only book I had since I had given out copies of Life and Death in Afghanistan to others to read.  I wrote in the book in Dari "To my Afghan friends from a friend from American."  Maybe someone will find it interesting.  There are many young students here who can read English since it is the international language for science and higher education.

Later, I went to a meeting with Anosha to meet the new Provincial Director of Economic Development.  The poor man is a member of Hisb-e Islam--the Islamic Party.  He had no problem shaking my hand or talking to me.  I have met Saudis and a few Iranians who wouldn't shake my hand because I am a woman.  But most of the men here courteously shake my hand.  You could see by the expression on his face that he is in completely over his head.  The donors to this province met with him to discuss better collaboration.  We all had lunch together and I got to see Anosha's new downtown office. 

I also got the chance to go out with the German Cimic Team.  They look at civilian needs.  The transport I was in hit an IED.  Luckily on one was hurt.  Later I was shown that the Taliban claimed they took the lives of "four cowardly soldiers".  Everyone thought I may have been shook up by the event, but it didn't phase me at all.  I think it is because no one was hurt and I was prepared somewhat.  I was told that everyone would experience and IED while we were here.  I figure this was mine and I am glad it is over.  Later in the day I played volley ball with the guys. 

My birthday also came.  The night before the Germans and my team sat in our office court yard and we had a great time.  Andreas (who replaced Ingo) climbed up on top of the table and danced for me.  I got up and danced with him and Sebastian.  It was halarious and good spirited.  We laughed a lot.  The next day I held a fiesta.  Luckily, most of the food I had sent to me from the states was here.  Anosha got my grocery list and two of my sweet Afghan interpreter friends helped me prepare the food.  We made it in the nick of time and we had a Mexican Fiesta.  It was different, but seemed to be edible.  The German team that I work with gave me a framed document with a Happy Birthday and everyone's signatures on it.  I am proud of this.  I received a beautiful hand carved rosewood jewelry box from my team members and Anosha.  It was a good time--in some ways because I held the fiesta at the interpreters' quarters.  It gave the Germans an opportunity to mix with the Afghans.  Two friends from the Friday bazaar also attended. 

I went out and interviewed people on the street in downtown Kunduz.  I got in some good interviews.  It is close to a higher education institute and we stood by the gate waiting for the classes to complete so that we could chat with some women and other students.  The guard was so sweet--he went over and picked two beautiful roses and gave one to me and one to my interpreter.  I don't think you would see this kind of gentleness so often in the U.S.

I usually stop and wave to the Afghan guards here on the base when I do my walking.  On one stop, the one of the guards came down and brought me a bottle of water.  That was so sweet, so I stopped and talked to him and his colleague.  They really enjoyed talking to me.  On the other side of my walk, some of the guards had previously asked me to stop and drink tea with them.  This time I did.  About 5 or 6 of them gathered around and we chatted.  The next day I brought them a cake to eat with their tea.  Honestly, I don't think that Germans or others really take the time to get to know the Afghans that are readily accessible to them.  There are a lot of workers that come on base here to work.  Some of them are doing reconstruction by my office.  I have gotten to know four of them in particular.  I always go by and see if they have the earplugs I gave them to protect their ears from the blast of the saws they use to cut through steel.  One of them told me he needed goggles for welding.  I agreed.  I told them I wanted to talk to their boss.  When I saw their boss I politely told him to buy the guys ear protection and better eye protection.  The boys ranged in ages from 17 to 23. 

I also spent time with two of the gardeners.  One of them is a funny guy.  He is 42, but looks like he is 62.  He likes to carry things for me and talk to me when no one is looking.  The other day he came to me in pain.  He told me he slammed his chest against the handle of his motorcycle.  Although the doctor told him his rib wasn't broken, he claimed to be in a lot of pain and asked me for some medication.  He showed me the bulge in his rib cage.  I told him how to take the ibuprofen and sent him home with a handful that Viktor gave me.  The other young man is studying English and has a young daughter.  He has a beautiful tranquility about him.  He asked me if I could get him some sunscreen which I obligingly did.  He was very grateful and tried to practice Pastu with me. 

At the FOB there is a man I called a stalker.  For a long time he looked at me really strangely and would shuffle around the lunch tables where I sat.  He is a lunchroom worker.  I asked him if I did anything to bother him and he didn't want to talk about it.  Anosha asked him to stay away from me.  A couple of weeks ago, he treated me much differently.  My friend Wakil asked me if I could help him.  He said his daughter was sick and he needed help.  I found the name of a free doctor and today I learned he had been there but they told him they could do nothing for his daughter.  He said he is a poor man and has spent all his money trying to get her better.  She cannot open or close her hand for some reason.  She has also suffered from TB in the past.  I am not sure if he is still providing her money or not, but he is really disappointed.  I have met a new acquaitance here on the base.  He is an American trauma surgeon.  He also specializes in reconstructive surgery and has a special interest in children.  He asked Anosha if he could come to Children's Day and go to the orphanage with us.  I am going to see if there is some way he could look at this child too.

So much for now--there are other things too, but it is 4:37 now and the night has passed here.  It gets light early here.  I guess this is what it is like when we don't fool with the time shifts.  I send my love to all of you.

New Friends and Familiar Faces

The beautiful fields of tiny red wild poppies (not opium poppies). 

Wall graffiti on Kandahar wall ..."when Johnny comes marching home..."

I am back in Kunduz now, my second home, after my quick "rest and relaxation" break at home. It is absolutely beautiful in Kunduz. While I was gone it has transformed. Roses are blooming everywhere on the base, the trees are lush with beautiful leaves and the fields are brilliant orange red with poppies. The weather is beautiful and I finally hear the sound of birds singing. I watched butterflies and bumble bees float through the garden.



I was in Kabul when the Taliban attacked international living quarters. I heard the bomb go off (same day Obama was there). This was close to a school where one of the men's brother attended.  He was happy to use my cell phone to call home.  Luckily, no one was hurt. 

On my way back home, I bumped into Foster, a soldier I trained with in Ft. Polk. We had to insert an IV into each other under battle field conditions. I was afraid I would pass out. I was also afraid I would completely mangle his veins. However, we both successfully found each other's veins and got an IV going. He reminds me a lot of my brother-in-law, Aaron. He looks just like Aaron did when he first married my sister. Foster repairs medical equipment for the Air Force. It was strange, he was eating lunch in the restaurant in Kandahar next to the airport where I went in and got a cup of coffee. He saw me and we hugged. Things like this, these random meetings with certain people make me feel like I am on the right path somewhere.

I was made an honorary Afghan National Police Officer! (Kabul AP)

I also ran into Larry, another person I went through both Ft. Leavenworth and Ft. Polk with and Dr. Merrill another buddy from Ft. Polk.  Dr. Merrill is a very kind anesthesiologist from Alaska whose grandmother lived in the neighborhood where I grew up. The visit home was tiring. It took about 5 days to get there and to come back took another 5 days. The first week, I was sick with dysentery. When I got back, I was actually happy to be here. I miss my family more now than if I hadn't seen them, but I am also happy to be here. There has been a change of personnel so there are many new faces. I like the new crew we are working with, but I still miss Ingo. I play volleyball with them every Tuesday. It is great! That makes 3 times now I have played volleyball here, twice with the Germans and once with the Afghans. They are very friendly and collegial. I was invited to a dinner the first night here. I was provided a beautiful coin with my name inscribed on it. The story goes however, that if I am asked to show it and don't have it, I must buy beer for everyone. But, I can't drink any because Americans are not allowed to. Anosha, such a darling, took the time and effort to fix me breakfast and Majeed also fixed me a beautiful dinner—both in part for celebration of my return. The breakfast was lovely with eggs and the dinner was super delicious with very nice rice and a sweet custard like desert.

Inside one of the residencies--the prisoners and some of the children. 

Yesterday, I was invited to go out with the Rule of Law folks. It was very nice. I was allowed to go into the women's prison. There are about 31 to 37 women at any given time who reside there. There are also small children. The day I visited was family day where inmates can receive their families. The women welcomed me and ushered me into one of their residences. A residence is a room where everything takes place—sleeping, working, talking, sewing, child care, etc. I asked, and about 11 people sleep in each room. The room was approximately 21 feet by 12 feet. It contained stacked bedding, a window looking into the shared courtyard, and a single bed. I was offered the bed and the female security guard sat next to me. She was in her mid thirties and a very kind woman. She understood my broken Dari very well and repeated what I said so the others could understand without my thick accent. I talked to as many women as I could, they took turns sitting next to me telling me their stories. The first woman who sat next to me was about 20 years old. She wanted to divorce her husband and for whatever reason was sent to prison. She has three children and was married to this 65-year old man when she was between 7 and 10 years. Afghans often do not know their age or date of birth. She became very emotional and cried.

Infected hand of woman prisoner.

A  woman was in her fifties and sat on the floor in pain. She had cut her hand and it was infected from what I could tell. It was wrapped and blood and infection had leaked through. I asked if she had seen a doctor and she had. When we entered the prison, I also saw that there was a medical center there. I asked if she was in pain and she nodded and I then asked her if I could take a photograph of her hand. It seemed as if one of the primary reason the women were there was that there were problems with their marriages. Next time I hope I can take a female interpreter to understand more of the details.

Young woman who openly admitted she killed someone. 

A young woman who was 23 years old came and sat by my legs, smoked a cigarette, and ashed on the floor. She had light blue-green eyes and very Asian features. I asked if she was Hazara and she told me she was from Uzbekistan. The guard told me she was Turkman from Kunduz and then went through the rest of the ladies and told me their ethnicities. There was certainly an assortment and the population seemed pretty representative of the general population. I asked this young lady why she was there and she told me flat out she killed someone. In some strange way, she almost seemed proud of it. This young lady wanted to wear my sunglasses and put on my helmet. I took photos of her and the others who wanted to be photographed. The average age of a woman there seemed to be about 30—a few in their fifties, a few in their early twenties, and a number of about 30 years of age.

One of the prisoners had a 4-month baby girl. All the women held the baby. I asked if I could hold her, so they whisked her pants off (because they were soaked with pee) and they handed me a little blanket to wrap her in. The baby was very chubby and healthy. I asked the women if they could read or write—none of them responded that they could. I asked if someone came to the prison to teach them would they learn. They all agreed. I asked if they would like to learn English, computers, accounting or something else. They all agreed reading and writing Dari was important, but would also like to learn what I suggested in addition to carpet weaving, sewing, cosmetology. I asked what they needed, and they, along with the guard, suggested a list for me: soap, shampoo, underpants and bras, summer clothes and shoes, and hygienic supplies. I could see that these things were direly needed. Their hair hadn't been washed in days and was very thick with oil. Without soap and shampoo their hygiene was more difficult to maintain and of course female hygienic supplies were necessary. It seemed that things could also be kept cleaner with diapers either disposable or cloth with rubber pants.

I told them I would do what I could, but that the only thing I could really bring them was hope. They should never give up hope. The average length of sentence seemed to be between 5 to 7 years. One woman had only been there for 4 days. The sweetest girl with the most beautiful smile had a scar on her face from some kind of a burn. She asked me if I could bring something for that. When my daughter called, I asked her to get me some scar gel and mail it to me.

Someone notified the guard that my colleagues were waiting for me. I gave them all hugs and handshakes. One of the ladies handed me a beautifully wrapped handkerchief. Even in a place without anything, these Afghan woman are so generous of their time, stories, and friendship. I told them that it was important that women help other women and if I could help them, then they should help other women. This morning, Jane from the Rule of Law talked to me about the experience. She said even if we do nothing else here that is good or positive, it may be these simple acts of compassion and doing things that are outside of our job descriptions that may provide the longer lasting effects.

Men and Women

In Kandahar, a huge city of multinationals, traffic, and stench.

Beautiful Dinner with my Afghan Colleagues

          I am coming home for a quick vacation.  I have a lot to write.  I left this morning at 7:30 from Kunduz to Masar-e Sharif to Kabul to Kandahar where I am now.  I miss my little Kunduz.  Someone said it is Mayberry.  In many ways it is.  I have a new friend, Majeed.  He is 23-years old, a Qizilbash, Turkman.  He is about my height, slender with big almond eyes.  I met him one day when I was in the German Interpreters' Office.  He was sitting in the hallway and I greeted him and two other young men in my usual fashion.  A few days later, he saw me and came up and greeted me.  I was surprised by his confidence, command of the language, and happy energy.  I gave him my card and he sent me several texts telling me he was going home to visit his family for a short vacation.  He texted me as to what kind of present he could bring me back.  I just ignored the texts because I didn't want him to bring me anything.  A week or two passed and I saw him and invited him to the office.  He pulled a package out from under his shirt and it was a beautiful crystal necklace and earrings.  

Looking for Portland Oregon!--Kandahar

Goodbyes to our German Friend in Kunduz 

In the meantime, we have had some challenges with work.  There were setbacks about going out, both internal with territorial issues and outside with increased threats.  An American attache wanted us to help him with a project, but he could never really articulate what he wanted and his ideas kept changing.  In the meantime, the clock was ticking about when he wanted us to go out.  We expressed limitations on some of the grandiose ideas he had, after all there were only three of us in our office, Matt was on R&R and we couldn't survey all of the province without transportation, security, interpreters, and so on.  So as we tried explaining the limitations on some of his ideas, he blew up at us and told us thanks for punching holes in all of his ideas and stormed out of our office.  The same thing happened to Robbert, the Dutch social scientist.  But instead of being professionally objective, he told me I was buggering him in the brain and put his hands around my neck gesturing he was choking me--so much for self-analysis.  The following week, we followed up with him.  He was a little more calm and less frustrated, not with us so much but the situation that this work presents--a lot of obstacles.  This time as we were chatting, he began to explain to me all the cultural competency training he did for the military using Aikido philosophy.  I waited for him to finish and I began to tell him my approach that I have used to train medical professionals when dealing with cross cultural differences.  He immediately told me that my approach was academic and invalid, but I didn't even get to tell him anything about my approach, how it was similar or different.  I stopped him and said, "You know what Robbert, you are rude.  You told me that my approach is academic and invalid and I didn't even get to explain it."  That suddenly woke up my two other teammates from the discussion.  Robbert told me to go ahead and explain, but I told him no.  He said that I should be more understanding since English isn't his native language.  But honestly, that was a lame excuse.  I said that was a good reminder, and apologized.  He left to go smoke one of his cigars.  I am sure I was short because I was hormonal.  I think I also missed the nice times I had with Robbert and disliked the way he treated me because of my gender.  A few days earlier I was invited to watch a movie with him and two other of the Dutch Rule of Law/Police mentors and trainers.  During the break, I scuttled down the hall to the bathroom.  He asked me why I was walking that way.  I told him sometimes, I just like to walk fast.  It was fast and playful--no big deal.  He told me I shouldn't walk like that that I should walk with my pelvis tucked under, blah blah blah.  If I was a man, I don't think he would have been so critical.  I also felt left out of celebratory cigar smoking.  Even if I wasn't going to smoke one, he could have offered after the presentation of the findings of our trainer interviews.  He offered everyone one except me and to smoke later on with the men.  Somehow I felt jilted.  So much for his inclusiveness and feminist proclamations.  A gesture of appreciation would have been nice.  

No that is not a handbag--qualifying for German weapons. 

Anosha left to go visit friends and family in Germany.  I got up and made sure she was awake and wouldn't miss her flight.  I miss her spunkiness.  We had coffee together and I waved goodbye until we meet again.  I will miss her when she goes home for good.  She has such maturity and depth.  She is also spunky, rough and tough as if she has wrestled with her older brothers for decades and is the base chess champ.  She speaks seven or sol languages fluently and is a full lawyer.  I don't know how her parents raised such a magnificent child given the fact that they had to flee and deal with imprisonment and exile.  Afghans show enormous resiliency.  Whenever I feel like I might be making a reach in one of my conclusions about Afghans, women, Islam, or even other men and men, I use her as a reality  check in.  A day or two after Anoosha left,  I left to go to Masar-e Sharif and attend the Women's Shura on behalf of the PRT.  The team leader there picked me up and took me to the transient tent.  She was nice to me but quick to condemn everything I was wearing.  I wanted to be somewhat appropriate with what the Afghan women might be wearing.  I noticed that when they attended the meetings, they wore make-up and even the police wore cute little black pumps.  The day before my daughter sent me my woven leather sandals which cover the front of my feet.  I carried a small purse, just large enough to contain my ID, a tube of lipstick, telephone, business cards, and tampon.  I was wearing a cotton jacket with jeans and shirt.  So, this is what I heard: those shoes are terrible (I knew--my feet were killing me from walking around on large rough gravel); my purse could be used by someone to strangle me and I should use a lanyard around my neck instead (okay, I would rather be strangled by an 1-1/2 inch strap than a nylon lanyard which would rip into my neck); I should wear jackets with more pockets (okay good advice).  Later when she was cross examining me and the other social scientist as to what we were talking about, the other social scientists told her we talked about "boys".  Apparently, she didn't have a sense of humor and made a crass remark of some sort, so the other social scientist said, "Yes, we talked about Sandra's son.  Did you know she has a son who is 28-years old?"  The the team leader said, "Well, she is no spring chicken you know.  Anyone can look like that if they get a face lift and use make-up."  I thought it was the greatest complement ever.  Of course I am no spring chicken and that is why I use make-up, but the fact that she thought I had a face-lift made my day.  I guess I can hold off of doing anything for a few more years.  I managed to go to the bazaar though and I talked to some of the vendors there and bought some jewelry.  I met one really nice young Afghan who looked at all my jewelry and told me what I should have paid.  He gave me such good prices that I didn't even need to negotiate.  I gave him a $10 tip, and he refused to take it.  I made him take it anyway and he told me he would use it go to give to the poor.  What a sweet young man.  He was married and had two children.  He supported himself and his family on roughly $200 a month.  If I ever go back there, I will definitely go back and visit him.  

The Police and two friends from the Kunduz Female Engagement Team  in Masar-e Sharif 

At the Female Shura with two Afghan National Police in Masar-e Sharif

Then there was the female shura.  It was very interesting.  The first female general in Afghan was there.  I would say she was in her late 30's.  She had thick black eyeliner on that accentuated her almond upward slanted eyes.  She was a beautiful women with a huge presence.  I can't imagine what she had to go through to get where she is.  As I understand it, she is demeaned somewhat.  Whereas, all the other male generals have nice offices, great resources and assistants, she is given little in terms of resources.  I loved the way she met and greeted the female Afghan police and military personnel who were there.  Kisses and warm hugs.  The shura began and the first part covered the female's role in the Reintegration Program.  This is a program where Taliban members can turn themselves and rifles in and get some support in terms of employment and other resources to turn their lives around.  But it isn't easy, and it requires mothers, sisters, and wives to encourage men to do this.  The women who came from the different Provinces in the North Command gave suggestions and ideas to support and communicate this program.  The second half was used to present ideas to help local women.  It was interesting, there were a couple of provinces that were not represented and then the province Balkh had two sets of women present ideas.  This wouldn't have been so bad if each province was to just present one idea for support.  Then the women argued and it turned into a cat fight.  Regional General had the ladies go out and decide which project would be the final proposal.  There has to be a learning process, so it is good that things like this happen.  Women need the opportunity here to make mistakes.  It has been 30-years since they have really had an opportunity to be leaders.

Ladies Lunch at the Shura in Masar-e Sharif

At lunch, I sat with several of the female Afghan National Police.  I asked them if they were ever harassed or given problems because of their work.  They told me that it was not a problem.  It seems they just shrugged it off.  These women liked their work, had collegiality with each other, and didn't let things bother them.  When it was time to leave, none of the female security spoke Dari and they needed help to keep the women from going to where they shouldn't and to get help to get on the transport bus.  I helped the young security woman there.  She was so sweet.  Chubby, short military haircut, and big pretty green blue eyes.  She remembered me and shook my hand a week later at an airport when I was on my way out.                                                                                                                                                                                          I   had dinner with the other social scientist and my plane trip was cancelled so I had to spend another night.  I told someone I couldn't wait to get back home.  And he asked me where is that in the states?  I said, no--I mean Kunduz.  I realize how lucky I am to work with the individuals I do.    

Sal-e No Tabrik Bashad

It’s another snowy day in Afghanistan.  Had some interesting conversations with some colleagues.  What started it off was a conversation I had with an American Afghan who is here doing atmospherics.  I asked if his family celebrates No Ruz—the traditional New Year or spring celebration.  It is almost universally celebrated in Iran and Tajikistan.  It is celebrated in many areas here in the north among the Tajik and Hazara and Farsiwan.  I asked if his family celebrated it.  He said it was against Islam and all the mullahs have come out against it.  He was actually engaged in a conversation about this subject with another fellow when I went over to his office.  He said that according to Islam you are only suppose to have two celebrations, the one to break the fast after Ramadan and the celebration of Abraham’s devotion to God.  Either according to the Qoran or one of the Hadiths he said that Mohammad was brought some food from a celebration and he said it was good, but the Hadith went no further than that.  My colleague said that this life is a test and that it is temporary here and Moslems should follow in the footsteps of Mohammad.  If he didn’t celebrate it, then we shouldn’t either.  He again reiterated that all the Mullahs agreed it should not be celebrated. 

I told him that if that was the case then why did all the Mullahs celebrate Women’s Day.  I attended this celebration and the head of the Ulema was there.  Nor would birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, or other events be celebrated, because they were also not celebrated in Mohammad’s time.  He couldn’t really give me a satisfactory response after that.  I told him that Iranians consider themselves pious Muslims as well as Tajikis and many here in the north, but that they celebrate No Ruz.  He said it is a celebration of the “Fire Worshippers” or Zoroastrians.  I told him that this celebration predates Zoroastrianism and that Zoroastrians and pre-Zoroastrians celebrated this event.  I also told him that Zoroastrians were not “Fire Worshippers” but that the fire is a symbol much like the cross is a sacred symbol of many Christians.  I told him that my daughter went to a pre No Ruz celebration ceremony back home and he said that is why the Mullahs don’t want them celebrating No Ruz here because it is too close to Zoroastrian practices.  Again, I had to remind him that these practices are much older than Zoroaster himself. 

I said it was fine that if people believe the Mullahs that they should do what they think is right, but that they should not impose their own view of Islam on other Moslems, that there are many Moslems in the world who are devout, who have local or traditional celebrations, and that they should not be persecuted for celebrations.  It is the same old struggle, much the same as in the U.S.  When people become zealots and want to impose their beliefs on others, no matter what it is, it is wrong.  There is a line between personal beliefs and rights.  I hope that in the U.S., we are able to maintain our ability to preserve our basic freedoms.  I don’t want religious laws, no matter what they are imposed on me.  I am grateful to live in a place where there is, at least in part, a separation of church and state. 

In the mean time, it is snowing again—at least a foot of snow—just today.  It has been snowing since this morning and it is past 3PM now and it is still coming down. 

I went on several field trips.  First was the celebration at the Governor’s Compound to celebrate International Women’s Day.  I don’t know if it was strange or not, but I went up the aisles clear to the top and shook nearly all the hands of the women who were in attendance.  I saw a lot of beautiful faces, young and old, rich and poor.  There were some adorable sweet girls who were deaf in attendance.  They were so happy I met with them.  They told me they were deaf in sign language and I told them I loved them.  It was impressive and I hope to include some photographs.  The little girls that I met at the school for children of imprisoned parents were there.  They sang.  It was beautiful.  The head of the provincial ulema gave a fiery speech, as well as the governor and the mullah I had met earlier.  The mullah gave the opening prayer from the Qoran.  It was very beautiful.  The mayor was there, the police commander and I had a few sights of the only two female police women I have seen.  I was frisked by the women before I went in.  For good reason apparently.  The head of the ulema was targed with an IED after the celebrations.  A woman who sat with her daughter and the girls from the school was seated at the end of my row.  When I left, she gave my hand a very affectionate squeeze.  It was wonderful to feel that connection to someone who has grown up half way around the world from me.  Anosha was there.  She took me after the celebration to the Governor’s office.  We chatted with him.  She also introduced me to the mayor.  A very handsome fellow.  I told Anosha, he reminded me of my son.  Afterwards, I showed Anosha, my son’s photo and she agreed they looked similarly.  She told me he is a famous wrestler.  It is funny my son’s legs are soooo much like his. 

My other trip was to Anosha’s office downtown.  My team leader and I went with her and her driver to her office.  We had the best meal since I have been in Afghanistan.  Eggplant, fresh kabob, yoghurt, salad-e Shirazi, fresh bread, tea and wonderful sweets.  We had a wonderful conversation with her assistant.  A friendly young man working to improve his language skills. She then took us to the jewelry making school.  It was impressive.  It contained a complete lapidary studio where not only fixings are made from molten silver or gold or brass, but also where semi-precious stones are turned into jewelry items.  It was very nice to see how funds have been used to create places where people can develop industries.  The young men who worked there were smart and ambitious.  One even took me aside and showed me a photograph of his wife.  He was so in love.  Many men here love and respect their wives and daughters.  But, we also see and hear the stories of those who have been maltreated. 

My last trip was a tiring one.  We drove up to Imam Sahib, the base where soldiers were attacked and wounded.  Anosha and I visited two of them who were brought to the hospital here.  Apparently, all have recovered except one who had a piece of shrapnel pierce his brain and apparently will lose the sight in one eye.  Then we went up further to Tash-kazar.  This is close to the Tajikistan border.  We had a meeting with the people there to hear what they were doing and develop ways of working together.  We went with the USAID and USDA rep here.  It was a really rough trip.  I had to change places with my team leader because he has a pinched nerve in his neck and he couldn’t bear being thrown up and down in the seat for hours on end.  I could feel it in my back when I got back, but it wasn’t so bad for me. 

Ingo went home.  I miss him already.  He took the sunshine and now winter has returned again.  I am glad he got out of here before the storm came.  He should be home by now.  The drama continues here—Dutch, Germans, Belgians, Americans primarily.  Some tensions between the Dutch and  Germans—from what I understand hard feelings remaining from post WWII.  The Belgians seem to get along with everyone. 

I also have a special friend from the cafeteria.  I don’t even know his name, but he is so sweet.  He knows how much I dislike the food and the other day he came running out after me, Miss Sandra Miss Sandra….He said wait a minute he had something for me.  He ran in and grabbed a sack full of wonderful Nepalese food.  There is a handful of  men here from Nepal and a few other countries who work in the kitchen.  He had made me spicy chicken and rice for dinner.  He is such a kind man. 

Well, so much for now.  The sky is gray, I am listening to 1930s and 1940s music on the internet, writing to you, and hoping all is well.

Love to all, Sandy

Spring Days

Spring Days

We caught a few days of beautiful weather. It was spoiled today though. The weather evolved from cold snow and rain to lots of sunshine and people running around in shorts. Today, the wind stirred up the dirt and other matter into the air. I heard from a colleague that he heard there was 20% fecal material in the air. Needless to say I had my face covered as I ran from tent to office and elsewhere.

 Homes destroyed during wars.

Lovely sheep herders.

I was finally approved for a female interpreter. Now, the civilians who manage the office say it is impossible because I have to have a room for her separate from the men. Another detail and Germans are wonderful with details. The other bit of nice news is that I have been invited by the German Commander here to represent the PRT at an upcoming women's shura. It is quite funny because they are willing to send me with one of the officer interpreters which is awesome, but I have only spoken with her in Dari. I am not even sure if she speaks English.

viktor (colleague) and parviz (german-dari interpreter)

Yo momma packing an armor-piercing weapon.

The officer interpreters here are very nice to me. When I need to get an interpreter from the Germans, I go into their office and in Dari, ask them to interpret in German to make arrangements for me to have a Dari interpreter.

We finished up interviewing all the Dutch police trainers. German police trainers are next. I like interviewing people, it is just the hard work afterward that is tedious: organizing all the information into a format that makes sense. Robbert came by to see what kind of results I have come up with. I present tomorrow to the Dutch Commander and Rule of Law people. We are having a few more Americans move in here too, including another female. She is another amazing young woman. She is in her mid thirties, and an accomplished lawyer. She is training elements of the judicial system here to do their jobs better. When she is finished, she will be going back to the states and defending detainees from Guantanamo.

One of the Dutch intelligence officers has been so curious about making contact and speaking to Afghans. I think this sort of curiousity should be fulfilled. I told him I would show him how easy it is to speak to Afghans. Being a woman doesn't put me necessarily at a disadvantage either. I am treated with a lot of respect. It is so funny that people are afraid of people from other cultures. There is a fear. I suppose to some degree the fear is healthy, but it not only prevents from getting to know unlikeable characters, it also prevents from getting to know very sweet people too. Since there are a number of locals working here on the base, many of whom I have never spoken with, I was delighted to show him how simple it is.

Civil Affairs and Movie Maker extraordinaire; Anosha--the jewel of Kunduz (or Afghanistan for that matter); and Jay and "Saui" Bob (play on Jay and Silent Bob) senior special projects officers

We went up to stranger after stranger and had delightful conversations. After we asked the Afghans a few questions, I asked them if there was anything they wanted to know. They wanted to know how old we both were. When they found out my colleague was 31, they then asked if he was married. He is not yet married, but his newfound Afghan friends told him that they would be happy to help him with that situation.

I know where the Afghan security guards live here on base, so I then took my friend there. There were about 10 guys out either playing volleyball or sitting on the bench watching. I asked to join in and we were placed on opposite teams. I think we played for about an hour. It was great! They let me serve almost the whole time. I think it has been more than 20 years since I have played volleyball, but it was very fun. We were invited to come back any time and play. I know I will be back. I told my colleague that what we did today, probably 99.9% of the others here have never done.

My colleague Viktor paid me a huge compliment today. He is so sweet. He said that I need to be cloned and if he was a team leader, he would fight tooth and nail not to let me be placed anywhere else. The senior state department representative here hasn't had a lot to do with our program because of difficulties with previous members. However, today he came over and asked me for some help to review a research proposal and to participate and mentor the local Afghans. I am busy, but happy busy.

"Heads" and "Tails" the American "COIN" (Counterinsurgency Trainers) here on camp went home a couple of days ago. They had a nice party in COPLand, where the military police live. Has to be some of the nicest quarters on base.

I continue to smile and laugh too much to be fair. I am enjoying my work and sharing my few talents to help make this place a little more stable or healthier before everyone leaves.

Until then, I love you all.

Sandy

PS—I don't carry a weapon, but sometimes I might need to. The one in the photo is something I had to turn in for a LARGER weapon. Someone somewhere thought that having a larger sniper weapon would be less intimidating than the small, light, Gucci-bag sized weapon in the photos. Some things I just will never figure out.

XO again

Safe and Sound

I haven't written for a while and now things seem to be pretty heated both here and in the news. I want everyone to know that I am safe and sound.

An amazing young woman here, an Afghan German, is head of the economic development. She took me to visit a home for children whose parents are in jail. As opposed to the orphanage which I hear so much about, this was a very nice home. There were several grades of children going to school here. Some of the children were even born in prison. I was taken around and shown the classrooms. In one of the class rooms children were learning how to use computers and using different computer programs. In other rooms children were learning how to read and write.

Little girls tried to catch my eye and smiled and giggled at me. Both girls and boys sat together in the class rooms. All were dressed very nicely. I also visited their bedrooms. They were orderly and very tidy. As opposed to many of the Afghan buildings I have been in, the rooms were warm. The doors are covered with thick quilts to keep the heat in. The rooms had carpet on the floors and clean bedding.

A local branch of the local Afghan Women's Association held a meeting here that I also attended. It was very interesting to watch the women organize the day. There were even three mullahs who attended. They even had good ideas to share with the women, perhaps even better ideas than some of the women had. I went and spoke to one of the mullahs afterwards and told him I had studied Islamic jurisprudence, history, and philosophy at the university.

I guess it was a big deal for the province because the television crews were there as well. After the meeting, they caught me and asked me to please say something for the television—in Dari. So I stated my name, where I am from, and that Women's Day is an important day and this is a good step to take.

I also visited the police training center that the Germans have built and where the international forces are training the police. It is very impressive—even by American standards. When Germans build something they build it really well. The interpreters all came to talk with me. One of them asked me if he could marry my daughter. I was impressed with these guys. They were very polite and had fun talking with me.

Because of the Quran burning, we were asked to do a quick survey and find out what local nationals are thinking. Now this was a challenge because we had no transportation to go into the city and ask questions. So, we got a couple of interpreters and went around the base and talked to the people who work here. The results were interesting. More than half had not heard of the events. Some said that the person who did this should be punished. Others said it should not happen again and that the government should do something about it. Everyone who had heard something had heard about it on TV. The most interesting thing that I am finding here is that some of the most educated, in terms of secular academic achievement, are not necessarily the most liberal or open minded. Some of the most humble people are the most open and forgiving. Some of the manual laborers told me that they are uneducated and don't know anything and have seen the Taliban kill people—implying that there are greater sins to be worried about.

This past week we also presented our findings from the simple survey we did around here. It turned out positively and now we will be doing a very large project. I have been busy working on survey designs and instruments for this. We will be evaluating the police training for both the Dutch and the Germans.

Today, though, I just about had it. I couldn't stand another day of pickled carrots, cabbage, and no fresh fruits or vegetables. I think we have the worst food here in all of Afghanistan. I have also heard this from some of the people who travel to the different cafeterias in various cities. And pork! They serve everything except bacon! What I would give to have fresh eggs and bacon for breakfast. The Germans serve tons of pasta and bread—just the stuff to get fat from. I eat the smoked fish more often. but today the guy from atmospherics took me to the American base to get some good food. Boy! Did it put me in a good mood. I even had dessert—wonderful chocolate ice cream, a tiny piece of cheese cake, and a piece of blueberry bundt cake. YUM. Had Mexican dinner, salad, and cantaloupe too. I have to say it beat whatever kind of crap they serve here. I stopped off at the PX and bought some hair color, pistachios, protein bars, and a couple of junk magazines to enjoy.

Our team was going to have a movie tonight, but it ended up being cancelled because of the issues surrounding the Quran burning. So, I am catching up writing to you. I am also reading a remarkable book. It is heart wrenching and most of the stories are from people who live in the province where I am stationed. It is called Love and War in Afghanistan by Alex Klaits and Gulchin Gulmamadova-Klaits. I highly recommend it.

I feel so sorry for the people who live here. They have way too many children and there is just not the sustainability to help them all. Female mortality here is awful. I hear that the mortality rate here is worse than in sub-Saharan Africa.

I have had difficulty getting a female interpreter, but I haven't given up. I blew up and said that the men here are just like the Taliban—doing something to protect the females, but instead it hurts and hinders them. The guys on base don't want to see that some woman has had her head chopped off and delivered in a box to the base. However, it is for the woman to decide if she wants to take the risk or not. We should not be taking the opportunity away from the women. This is the same mentality as the Taliban—protecting the women, but instead they end up being abused and repressed.

I see all the males who are given opportunity to be interpreters. They are able to refine their skills, develop contacts, and earn additional money by doing errands for people on base. Women are not given the slightest of chances to do this. I asked the young women here in charge of economic development if I was wrong in my thinking. She said no, that she has had the same argument. I said that a certain percentage of jobs here should be reserved for local women. There are widows and single women here who need jobs too. They could do the laundry too. I know that some women are afraid to come here, but some are not and we have not done what is necessary to help bridge the economic opportunity for them. Before I came here I was told that I would get raped, couldn't walk alone at night, would have to pee in my tent, and have a battle buddy. I am sure that is the case in some places, but it couldn't be further from the truth here.

I have a sweet friend here, Ingo. I can't say enough nice things about Ingo. He is a German soldier, father of 3 beautiful boys and his wife's name is Sandra too. He comes from a small town in eastern Germany. Next summer, God willing, I will go visit him and his family. We go for little walks around the base.  He shows me little "bars" he has discovered. The bars are little coffee-tea bars where soldiers go and relax. So we usually take little walks and have tea or coffee together. He tells me wonderful stories about his children, wife, and grandmother and other family members. I love to hear the stories. We also talk a lot about gardening. He loves to garden and has grapes and all kinds of fruit trees, nut trees, and vegetables. One day Ingo was looking at me and asked me who cut my hair. I said I did. He said he thought so, because my bangs are crazy looking. Then the next day he told me if I bought the materials, he would fix the color in my hair for me. His wife sent him some home-canned meat a while back and he brought it in and shared it with us. It was really nice. Ingo goes back home in a month and I will miss him when he goes.

I will be going to the police training units and to the police stations. The only hesitation I have is from the news that an Afghan policeman killed two soldiers. None-the-less they have done a fantastic job here during the demonstrations. Although I haven't done the training, I am proud to see what effect it has had on the officers here.

All in all I am happy. My tummy is full with some wonderful food. I have a nice warm tent to sleep in. My children are safe and studying hard.

Love to all of you,

Sandra

Small Trips

Went out with the USDA liaison to visit the Department of Agriculture and Livestock  (DAL) here in the province.  Most of the area is rural with a few cities scattered about.  The cities are not developed but seem more like crowded rural areas.  Next to a university you see a plot of land that someone is plowing or hammering at the clay with an ax.  

When we arrived there were guards at the door.  But we were welcomed in and taken to an office.  The office looked like drug den from a hollywood movie.  The paint on the ceiling was peeling.  There was one lightbulb in the wall that provided light for the mud-built building.  The floors were cold and unfinished, but covered with a few carpets.  I took my shoes off before I went in and could feel the cold come up through the bottom of my feet.  The couches in the office were dirty and worn.  They looked like something that people in the states would have taken to the dumpster.  

We met with the director and two of his managers.  They loved it when I spoke Dari to them.  They said we have had to learn English all our lives to speak to someone else and now someone has come who has learned the language to speak to us.  We drank tea and I listed as the USDA liaison spoke with them about projects.  Currently, she was working with the director to record a training session that would be played back on the radio so farmers could learn about hoof and mouth disease, diagnosis, prevention, and treatment.  They are planning on doing a series of these programs.  

The director talked about the problems getting people to vaccinate their animals.  First, veterinary drug stores are not of the same quality as in the States.  There are problems with selling expired vaccinations, purchasing fake products, and keeping the vaccinations at the proper temperatures.  Transportation is a huge problem--getting them back and forth.  Then there is the problem of getting farmers out to get the vaccinations.  Some do not want to buy them because they haven't worked in the past and they consider it a waste of time.  Most  people here are extremely poor and this is a huge cost for them.  The USDA was concerned that if the vaccinations were purchased from the province then they would displace local businesses.  There were other issues at play, but this seemed to be a topic that caused some tension.

The director was very enthusiastic about helping women start small agribusinesses at home.  He mentioned honey bees and chickens.  These are small  industries that could help not only feed the family, but also bring in additional income to the family.  Within a short time a woman could pay a small debt back for the $30 dollars or $200 dollars it takes to get into poultry farming or bee keeping respectively.  

We sipped on hot tea which took the edge off the cold as we sat.  Most offices and homes are heated with the metal barrel stove that roughly looks like it is made out of a garbage can.  This can't be very sustainable and it certainly contributes to the smoggy haze over the country side.  

They took the time to take us back to the veterinary clinic and the demonstration farm.  The farm was pretty expansive, but the clinic, like the offices, would not pass even the bare minimum standards in the west.  

This is not to say that these men were not highly intelligent or competent.  They certainly are, but money is probably spent on salaries, guards, and the basic necessities of keeping an office going, rather than upkeep.  

I was given an open door invitation to return and he invited me to visit the pastoralists and learn from the women how they do things.  

I will be doing follow-up it turns out; with the US LNO here---Jay and "Silent Bob".  Jay is an energetic man who wants to help the Afghans.  He would like to address agricultural and health care issues that the villagers talk to him about.  I am lucky that I have the opportunity to help him.  I will be helping him draft proposals to the DAL director and provincial health director.  Not too many people here have my unique background and it is a huge asset to the military.  Not to brag, but proudly, I was complemented today by several people that it is amazing how the Afghans respond to me and how natural I am with them.  It has been noted that unlike the Germans, I am completely spontaneous and it is amazing how crowds of children and adults form around me and that people just open up to me unlike to anyone else.  I was told that I am a special person and if there were more like me, this place would be completely different.  I hope that the compliment doesn't jinx me in anyway.  

I also have been having fun with my new German Buddy Ingo.  Ingo is about 40 and iis from a small town or village near the Polish/Czech border.  He has a beautiful wife (also named Sandra) and three absolutely adorable little boys.  I have had fun drinking coffee, tea, eating chocolates, going for walks, and watching German movies with Ingo.  Yes, we even get a little work done once in a while too.  I promised him, or rather invite myself, to come visit him and his family next year.  It sounds like fun.  He is an avid gardner and we talk about that endlessly; great planner (after all he is German) and has done remarkable things to make a small carbon imprint and have a happy, comfortable, and cozy life living next to his grandmother in a wonderful little town.  He has a swimming pool, tons of fruit and nut trees, berries of all kinds, and even a green house.  Ingo loves to make the most of life and is adventuresome too.  He is not suppose to leave the PRT, but we took him off base over to the US side so we could shop in the bazaar that is on base and eat some good American grub.  

To be honest, I miss American food sometimes.  The 500 lousy ways of eating cabbage and port gets to one after a while and there is RARELY dessert.  Not that I need any, but once in a while it is a pretty great thing.  I also bought some Lowenbrau nonalholic beer there.  It is pretty good.  I can have a beer and not get fired for alcohol consumption.  I am also having fun with Robert, the social scientist from the Netherlands.  We share a special spiritual connection.  He loves Rumi and I am teaching him the alphabet so he can read the original text.  Apparently, he owns about 30 different translations of Rumi's Masnavi.  He is a psychoanalyst (Jungian) and did some kind of evaluation on me and Ingo.  I am not entirely sure what it all means, but apparently there is some kind of similarity we have in our personalities.  For sure we both like to laugh and garden.  Ingo and I are going on a field trip here on base in a couple of days.  I got lost and found out where the gardners stay.  They have a green house and were so happy when I bumped into their area.  I told Ingo about it so we are going to go visit.  I saw that they had some geraniums in there, so it will be nice just to savor the smell.  I laugh an awful lot.  These people are very intelligent and their wit runs about light speed.  It is hard to keep up sometimes.  

Our team leader came today.  He was stuck in Masar-e Sharif just like I was.  He only had to stay there for four days, but I stayed an entire week.  He is an earnest, honest, kind man.  I can tell.  He is former navy a few years older than me and he and his wife live in the DC area.  After we got him back to the tent, I went on a walk over to Dust Off.  The Americans run the Medivac helicopter from here.  So, there are a few on the base here, although the Provincial Reconstruction Commander is German and he oversees the operations of everyone here.  So far, I see that there are primarily Germans, Belgians, Dutch, Americans, and Armenians.  The Europeans are mostly happily married.  They have things figured out in a way that works well for their family life.  Ingo told me that they found out that if soldiers return home about every 4 months their marriages stay intact.  It is after 4 months that things start to fall apart.  I thought it was interesting.  

I have a lot of work to do this week.  I have a big presentation due on the 17th that Robert is putting together.  It is a summary of findings from my first research design with the team.  It is really quite ordinary and elementary.  I didn't want to take on something too big for my first task.  This research explores the population's idea of where the law comes from, if they know what is hugug is (civil law office) and/or if they would ever use one, and how accessible the police area.  A couple of our missions were cancelled so I spent one day walking around both bases interviewing people.  It was pretty cool.  I also finished a design for our new project, assessing how easily the population can identify the security forces in the area.  After several attempts, we have it figured out what we will do for the Dutch.  It will be completed in three parts.  The first we will do indepth interviews with people in prison, my colleague will do the men's prison and I will do the women's.  Secondly, we will interview people as they come out of the court house to get better understanding of their experiences through the justice system as it happens.  And, finally, we will survey the general population using a US Rule of Law Indicators Tool.  Then I am going to help Jay and I need to do some other work in the office too.

It is raining again.  I like the sound of rain on my tent.  We  had snow the other day.  It gets really snowy and very cold.  Some little shepherd boys died tending their flocks and many animals died.  The Germans came to the rescue and helped save many more animals.  Locals are very appreciative and don't know what will happen when everyone leaves.  They worry about it and so do I.  

I have more to write, but for now, I better get some shut eye.  It's 1:30 and I better not sleep in and make a bad impression on my new Team Leader (TL).