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.