Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XV)

Quite suddenly and not to mention unexpectedly, I heard a familiar voice on the radio, “This is Bravo Golf 78. Ms. Ka Ea don’t worry and don’t be scared. I’m coming over to help you. I’m only 10 minutes away from where you are. Don’t worry – I’m coming. Don’t worry. Over”

I thought I was dreaming and I just couldn’t believe it. It was the voice of Ismarai, the tiny-built 21-year old UNAMA driver. Ismarai speaks fluent English and easily one of the best drivers for UNAMA. His small stature does not stop him from being the bravest and craziest driver. He was the driver that had brazed through Shatu pass within 5 hours that morning I left. He could be very arrogant as well because he acknowledges his driving skill and ability. Some of the international staffs hate his guts.

But Ismarai has always been friendly with me and I have a particular fondness for his little 7-year-old brother, Almos (which means diamond in Dari). Almos speaks fluent English and he’s very popular with all the international staffs for his charm and million-dollar smile.

Almos looks Tajik with blond hair and blue eyes. We often joke with Almos that we would hire him as a language assistant. Ismarai invited me once for lunch with his family and that was when I learned he is engaged to a 14-year old cousin of his.

So, that voice on the radio was no stranger to me. I just replied, “My God, BG78, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice. We’re stuck here in the middle of nowhere!! I’m not worried anymore now that I know you’re coming and I think I’m going to cry. Over!!”

I had no idea how he knew where we were or that we were stuck. I just didn’t know what was happening anymore and frankly did not care. We waited for about 30 minutes before we saw 2 white UN Land Cruisers stopped about 200m in front of us. Ismarai just jumped out from the car and started charging down the hill like an agile goat with a spade in his hand towards our pickups.

Another of our dear old driver, Rasudad, also came bouncing to our rescue. I went running towards them and Rasudad immediately asked me to sit in his car and put a blanket over me while he went to help Ismarai with the pick-up. My 20-hour ordeal ended as soon as I saw our drivers. I knew I was finally safe.

To add icing on the cake, I received radio communication from Raffaele. He said he was sending a rescue team of 2 cars from Panjao and I should expect them to be there soon. He asked me how my night went and was I cold, etc. He had sent 4 blankets with the rescue team.

I just told him, “BG41 (Raffaele), is the rescue team consist of BG78 (Ismarai) and BG75 (Rasudad)? If yes, let me tell you that they are here already. We’re now waiting for them to get the car out and we’ll be proceeding to Panjao after that. Over”

He replied, “BG47 (me), Don’t wait. Get into one of the cars and ask BG75 to send you to Panjao right away. Let the rest of the team fix the other car and they can come after. But come over to Panjao immediately. Over.” I replied, “Roger that. I’ll be moving over right now. BG47 out.”

So, I took off with Rasudad and headed for Panjao. It took us another hour before I finally arrived in Panjao Provincial Office with the familiar UN flag waving in the wind, beckoning me home. That was the second time that I have felt happy and relieved seeing that blue and white flag. The first was when I crossed the Mecedonian border to Kosova on foot at around 12 midnight 2 years ago.

I had been awake for more than 30 hours without food, drink and a shower. My eyes were bloodshot and my boots were completely covered with mud which was hardening already due to the sun. As I walked out from the car, Raffaele came out from the office. We just looked at each other and he grinned, “Welcome to Panjao”. Under normal circumstances, we would have hugged each other but in Afghanistan, such show of affection or comfort in public is frowned upon.

He started asking me what happened, etc. and all I could say was it was my fault that all this had happened and I realized that I had jeopardize my job and I would be fired, etc. I thought, gee, what a way to start my job in Panjao. But I think under such circumstance, no compassionate or sympathetic person would start having a go at someone who had spent a whole night on the Shatu pass. I guess I had been punished for my own mistake already.

I subsequently found out from Danny that at around 10:30pm that night, Bamyan had to make a decision of informing Kabul Chief of Security that I hadn’t call them and the possibility of security threat. Kabul was notified and they decided that if by morning, they still had not heard from me, they would have to send an air rescue team to look for us. But at this stage, I am still trying to figure out what was Kabul doing between 5am to 9am when we had not establish contact with Panjao base. I was not going to pursue the matter since nothing was brought against me until now.

So that was my journey from Bamyan to Panjao. I’m sure some of you may doubt the validity of the whole story because it sounds like a dramatic action movie. But let me tell you that it all did happen.

.....to be continued in Part XVI....

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XVII)

It was late, cold and again we had no dinner. I didn’t know where to sleep. The guys could just check into the local hotel/guesthouse but as a woman, I am not allowed to sleep in the hotel.

A hotel in Central Highlands means a big hall with 30 or more men sleeping on the same floor. Contagious diseases have been known to spread amongst the lodgers due to unhygienic and unsanitary condition at the guesthouse particularly when you have so many people who have travelled from far distances without so much as a shower sleeping closely together.

Bugs on the carpet are known to feast on the lodgers’ blood which then causes skin diseases. Shawn, the UNOPS Logistics Officer, had experienced chronic skin rashes for one week after sleeping on the floor at one of the local guesthouses. Apparently bugs had laid eggs under his epidermis and the eggs had possibly hatched through his skin follicles, creating extreme itchiness and inflammation on his skin. Ouch! Sounds painful.

I thought my last resort was to ask IAM whether I could stay with them. Raffaele had told me that my last option should be IAM because the last time he went to Lal, they were unfriendly and did not take in guests. At this stage, I hardly had any other choices and the thought of sleeping in the car, shivering all night, hungry and holding my bladder was just too insufferable.

So, we went to IAM and knocked on their door. Aliase said something in Dari. The voice that answered was a female’s voice and she spoke Dari. She then spoke in English, “Go away! I don’t know who you are and what you want. Just leave us alone!” As soon as I realized that it was a foreign woman’s voice, I started introducing myself.

She then opened the door just wide enough to take a peek at me. The lady before me looked African Caribbean, wore glasses and had a veil covering her head. I told her that I had nowhere to stay that night and I needed a place to sleep. What came out from my mouth was completely new. I had never in my entire life asked a stranger to give me shelter for the night. It was almost like begging and I had no choice. To be honest, it hurt my pride a little bit but it is all part of surviving in this God forsaken place. If you don’t learn to swallow your pride, you’ll just end up alone and miserable.

The lady asked grudgingly, “Is it just you or the rest of the guys as well ‘cause we don’t take in men.” She didn’t sound friendly at all. I told her that it was just me and the men were staying at the hotel at the bazaar.

She immediately responded, “Well, we don’t take in people and this is not a guesthouse but I suppose you can stay for tonight.” I was relieved and then made a last call to Raffaele informing him of my situation. I had not called him since the Oxfam incident and had taken off by myself without letting him know what the conclusion with Oxfam was. When he answered the phone, I was so close to screaming down the phone at him and cursing him for sending me off somewhere without a place to sleep. But instead, my voice was shaky and very much close to tears.

I was angry alright but it was also because of the exhaustion, cold and also the humiliation of being rejected by Oxfam and having to beg for a place to sleep. I could have cried on the phone but I managed to tell myself that I had to be strong for my own pride. I don’t want Raffaele having any excuse to tell anyone, “See, a woman! We can never send a woman off on a mission. All they do is cry.” I also did not want Raffaele to feel bad or guilty about sending me off on my own. I’m a team member and I want him to know that he can count on me to do as good a job as any other men. Here, as a woman, you need to constantly prove yourself lest you succumb to their stereotype.

So instead, I told him as calmly as I could that I was staying over at IAM and everything was fine. Good night! He said he was going to call Bamyan to report on Oxfam’s hostility. Apparently, most of the NGOs have agreed to assist and support UNAMA Electoral team in the field and what Oxfam did was against the agreement. But heck it, I am never going back there again.

What was meant to be only one night in IAM turned out to be 7 nights! I got to know the residents there; Martha, Erin and Rita. The lady who answered the door the other night was Erin, an American girl from Michigan. Erin and Rita are doctors. Rita is from Norway and Martha is a nurse from Germany. They are devout Christians funded by Scandinavian countries to provide medical care for the people of Afghanistan.

In fact, those 7 nights were very chastised nights. These women could very well be missionaries or nuns. They say grace before every meal, sing praises and have Sunday service in the house. Everything is organized and works on clockwise. Breakfast at 7:15am every morning, lunch at 12pm and dinner at 6pm. Bedtime is at 8pm. The doctors are on call 24 hours and often have to rush to the nearby clinic to deliver newborn babies. Oh not forgetting, shower on every Thursday evening only. Yep, shower only once a week. I do not know whether this policy has anything to do with the scarcity of water or the burden of heating up the bukhari for hot water or the cold weather because neither is Lal a desert, nor is it that cold at that time of the year. I had seen many rivers and it is getting warmer now.

When I related the stories of my adventure in Lal to the Panjao team, it has now become a standing joke about the nuns taking shower every Thursday only.

Martha must be at least 70 years old. She has been in Afghanistan since 1960s under the order of King Zahir Shah. She speaks fluent Pashto and Dari. She cooks all the time and was like a grandmother to me. In fact, they all treated me well after getting to know more about what I do, etc.

I was well-fed in Lal because they always have proper meals unlike when I am in Panjao. Meals in Panjao consist of pasta, potatoes, beans, rice and bread…and may I add… every day. No fruits at all. There is absolutely nothing else in Panjao for us to eat. But with IAM, I got the occasional kebabs, fish (from cans), local homemade yogurt (“moss” in Dari), salads and even cheesecakes baked by Martha. She would churn her own cheese from the fresh and homemade yogurt. The yogurt in Afghanistan is absolutely fantastic and possibly one of the best dairy products I have tasted. It makes a great dessert with a little bit of honey and cinnamon sugar.

We had a lot of conversation during dinner and I must say that I enjoyed the company and by the end of my stay, I was sad to go.

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part finale) - finally!

Raffaele and I talked on the phone every day because of reporting and sometimes I sounded low on the phone and he would try to calm me down. He would then always tell me how many more days before I would return to Panjao. It did get very frustrating sometimes especially when my Thuraya ran out of credit and I was not able to call anyone. I had to wait for Raffaele to call me every evening.

So, most of the days, I would not have anyone to talk to because most of the Afghan staffs do not speak English. Aliase and I were getting on each other’s nerves and I was trying very hard to sustain the working relationship. I could see that Aliase was getting very agitated and unmotivated with the whole thing; being dumped in Lal on our own without office space, etc. I tried to keep ourselves positive and busy. Whenever Raffaele called, I tried to sound cheerful and uplifted just so that he wouldn’t have to worry about us in Lal.

But one evening, I just broke down and it was the day when I gave up on the recruitment process. Then immediately I felt guilty for doing that and reassured him that I would be different the next day and I was just feeling very vulnerable that day. I think for those days that I was in Lal, I began to realize how strong and independent I could be and how one can actually condition oneself to adapt to the situation and condition. I also began to discover how important it was to have someone like Raffaele to comfort and counsel me every single day and reassuring me that I was not alone on this.

Anyway, 2 days before I was supposed to return to Lal, Raffaele sent his Language Assistant, Jaffar, to Lal to confirm the registration sites with the District Governor. I was really happy to see Jaffar. Jaffar is 23 years old and was a refugee in Pakistan for a long time. He speaks very good English and is more liberal than most Afghans.

He and Raffaele work very well together and I think among all the PFCs and their Language Assistants, Raffaele and Jaffar have the best of relationship between them. That is also because Jaffar has loyalty and respect towards Raffaele. He sees Raffaele as his role model rather than his superior. Jaffar is also very competent and works more than a Language Assistant. His computing skill is excellent and he could create maps on software, etc. So, Raffaele depends a lot on him to carry out a lot of the technical work. Hence, it is no surprise for Jaffar to be sent on his own to speak with the District Governor, etc.

The moment I saw Jaffar, I said, “Get me out of here!” I needed to get out from Lal center, just to breathe. I was by then building a rapport with Khial Gol, the new driver who had been fetching me every morning from IAM to the field. Khial Gol surprisingly possesses a wide English vocabulary although he can’t really form English sentences. Every time he drives me to the field, he would point at things like river and then said it in Dari. He was turning into my Dari teacher and then I found out that he used to be a teacher.

For those 5 days that I had been isolated from my friends, I compensated by talking to Jaffar non-stop. I poured out my woes and my frustrations. Then Raffaele called to check whether Jaffar had arrived in Lal. He asked Jaffar on the phone how I was, etc. and Jaffar told him that I was bored and stressed. Then I discovered that Raffaele had given Jaffar a bottle of vodka to be shared with me!

Having Jaffar made a whole lot of difference. I was slowly adapting myself to Lal and by the last night, I remember talking on the phone with Raffaele as to whether he wanted me to go back to Panjao or stay on in Lal to monitor the training. Qurghani and I were supposed to return to Panjao the next day according to our schedule. While Aliase and the rest of the trainers were supposed to stay on in Lal to start training on the new staffs.

Raffaele asked me whether I wanted to stay on in Lal and I told him that I would prefer to go back to Panjao but if I had to stay in Lal, I would. He told me he had a feeling that I was beginning to enjoy Lal and didn’t want to come back to Panjao. I was like, “Are you kidding me? Stay on here with no one to talk to and go to bed at 8pm every night?”

I was dying to go back to Panjao especially when I knew we would be expecting some company; Collin and Shawn were to stop by in Panjao for one night before going to Uruzghan. It would be like a small former Bamyan team get-together and I wasn’t going to miss out. But I know that if I had to stay in Lal, I would for the interest of the team and then held it against Raffaele later! But thank God, Raffaele asked me to come back.

So, I was very excited to leave Lal the next morning with Khial Gol and Farid. The journey for the first time went as smooth as a banana. I arrived in Panjao just on time for lunch and of course talked myself silly. Those 7 days felt like forever and I was of course warmly greeted by Panjao team and felt a sense of accomplishment; being the first and only UN international electoral female staff in Central Highlands brazing a new district in another Province on her own and survived it!

When Collin came, he called me the toughest chick on the block and accused Raffaele of being crazy and irresponsible for sending me off alone. But I was happy and proud of that. It has been a man’s world here. For months now, I have been the only foreign woman working in the Central Highlands electoral team. If the PFCs can survive it, I can too. And for the first time, the PFCs could not accuse me of not knowing how it is like to be in the Province.

Life oh life….. you just never know what is going to happen next. As for me, I know I am just about done with Afghanistan. I think I would be leaving here after July.

I left Panjao in August and returned to Afghanistan two months later as a Human Rights Officer for UNAMA, based in Kabul. I stayed on for another 13 months before finally leaving Afghanistan for good.

This final part of my email series came at a good time because just today, I received news from Raffaele that he has just became a proud  father to baby girl, Zaira. I extend my sincere happiness for him as he embarks in this new chapter of his life.

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XVI)

Ever since I came to Panjao, it seems like I am starting a new chapter in my life. I’m experiencing things which I have not before. I guess it’s all about character building, which has all of a sudden become the decree of my life.

After less than one week in Panjao, I was sent to Lal to recruit new national staffs. Aaahhh….my favourite task! Raffaele, as the PFC, had to stay in Panjao to monitor the registration process. We were the only 2 permanent international electoral staffs in Panjao.

I was not happy when I was told that I had to go on my own with a few other national staffs. It wasn’t because I was scared or anything but it can get very lonely and miserable on my own. But at the same time, I do enjoy road missions and I guess, it was a new challenge for me as well.

This time, I was given a Thuraya and told that I would be staying with Oxfam in Lal. We do not have an office in Lal and Raffaele had only gone to Lal once to establish contact with the local community. Registration is to start on 22 May 2004 in Lal.

Again, I was sent with 2 new drivers; one was Farid (the one who came with me from Bamyan) and Khial Gol. Arif had proceeded to Uruzghan with A. I was glad to get rid of him. The journey from Panjao to Lal is supposed to be less than 5 hours on a Runner but because we took the Rangers, it took us nearly 7 hours. I arrived in Lal at about 8:30pm.

We went straight to Oxfam only to be given the cold shoulders. The guard refused to even open the gate and was talking to us through a thick wooden door. The guard kept saying that the manager had gone to Panjao and he could not let us in. I told him that we are from UNAMA Electoral and our staffs used to stay with Oxfam in Lal, etc.

I called Raffaele immediately on the Thuraya to inform him of our problem. It took us about 1 hour standing outside in the cold for the guard to come back and tell us that their manager in Panjao had instructed them not to allow anyone working for the elections to stay in their place. I was so shocked especially when the guard told us that the manager said that we were politically motivated.

Qurghani, Raffaele’s national counterpart, tried to explain to the guard about our neutrality and I felt so dejected that I just went to the car and asked the driver to drive off. I felt so disappointed and upset at the people because I had travelled for hours just to get there to help them and they treated me like a leper.

It was the first time in Afghanistan when I felt unwelcome and unwanted.

....to be continued in Part XVII.....

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XIV)

As team leader for the convoy, I had to make a decision of whether to move on, to turn back to Yakawlang or to stay put. It would take another 2-3 hours to get back to Yakawlang because of the bad road conditions. I was not going to endure getting stuck on the way back to Yakawlang. I was not going to risk continuing the journey when it was completely pitch dark on the mountains. Any minor mistake could cost us our lives; we could fall straight off the mountain cliff due to the slippery roads.

So, I opted staying in the cars until daybreak. Arif suggested waiting for the rain to stop and move on to Panjao at 9pm. I asked him how long would it take to get to Panjao and he told me about 30 minutes. Damn, so near and yet so far. But I told him that I would not allow him to drive in complete darkness.

By then, I was going to call radio room in Bamyan to report our condition and guess what? Arif did not know how to use the Codan despite telling me he knew. By then, because of the exhaustion, I was too tired to get angry or upset; just incredulous.

I thought, what the hell, nothing mattered anymore. We were stuck and my anger would not change things. But I was worried that Bamyan would be freaking out by now not hearing from us at all since we left at 12pm. Also, Raffaele would probably be freaking out as well in Panjao having expecting us to arrive that evening.

A, the logistics guy, was literally out of control and kept screaming at the drivers. He told me that he used to work in communications in East Timor and I thought, then he should be able to figure out how to use the Codan but it turned out that he didn’t. He was whining and complaining the whole night and I swore I was going to shove him off the cliff myself if he didn’t stop whingeing soon.

I kept trying to fiddle with the Codan and then asked Farid, the other driver to keep trying. Our luck brightened up when we managed to establish contact with Bamyan radio room.

I was so happy to hear Mokhtar's, an Afghan radio operator in Bamyan, voice and we started exchanging sitrep (situation report). By then, I guess we had woken up the whole of UNAMA top guys in Bamyan and Kabul.

Mokhtar bombarded me with tonnes of questions; i.e. what time I left Bamyan, what time I arrived in Yakawlang, why didn’t I stay overnight in Yakawlang, etc. I think they were assessing what went wrong and I thought to myself, that was the end of my career in Afghanistan. I was quite convinced that I would be fired and I wasn’t going to argue with that. It was my fault to jeopardize the whole convoy because of my determination and obsession to get to Panjao. I should have stayed in Yakawlang and enjoyed Band-I-Mir instead.

I told Mokhtar that we would have to stay in the car until daybreak and we could not move at all due to the bad weather. He then said that I would have to contact the radio room every hourly to report our situation. Then in his calm and comforting voice confirmed that I had left Yakawlang at 15:00 hours and the weather got worse at Shatu pass once we arrived there and hence was stuck.

He told me not to worry and reassured me that he would be on stand-by at all times. I smiled and answered, “Affirmative”. You see, I had arrived at Yakawlang at 16:00 hours and it was an hour after we were expected to arrive there. I was told that if I arrived at Yakawlang after 3pm, I should not proceed with my journey. So, Mokhtar knew people were monitoring our conversation and he wanted to make sure that they thought I was not breaking any regulations, which would land me in trouble. He was covering up for me.

The night seemed so long and I was awake counting the hours and I swore it must had been the longest night I ever had. It was very cold, uncomfortable and we were hungry. I could not relieve my bladder because it was dark outside and cold. I did not want to be devoured by mountain wolves or being watched by the boys.

Again, we lost all contact the whole night and I began to get worried about Bamyan wondering why on earth we hadn’t reported as promised. All night, I kept thinking what would Bamyan or Kabul do and I would be damned if they started sending search teams for us.

My assessment of the condition was that we were safe and nothing would harm us. We were in the middle of nowhere; i.e. no human settlements within the radius and we were on top of the mountains. Nobody would be crazy enough to ambush us there. I wasn’t scared or nervous; just worried about others worrying for us.

We had to turn the light off completely for security reasons; not to attract any attention. Every hourly, I would turn on the car engine to start the heater because it was freezing cold. Then I would hear aircraft flying above us and thought Kabul had sent one to search for us. Then, I wasn’t sure whether we should turn on the lights in order to attract their attention or not. What if they were military fighter planes? But why would they be flying at 2am?

Then, I spotted that the planes that had flew above us were different planes from the UN’s, which confirmed to me that it wasn’t looking for us.

At about 5am, it was bright enough for us to proceed. The rain had stopped but the roads were still muddy. We got stuck a couple of times and by 9am, we got stuck again and this time for good.

I was beginning to get angry with Arif because he had been lying to me again and again. He told me that it takes 30 minutes to get to Panjao from there and we had been travelling for more than 3 hours since we left from our overnight spot. It was obvious that he did not know the area and I was angry with everyone else for recruiting and assigning him to me.

The Codan didn’t work. I had no Thuraya to call anyone and I was completely frustrated and exhausted. A 5-hour journey turned out to be more than 20 hours. Arif kept bitching about Farid; about how he had to wait for Farid for driving so slowly and hence we were late, etc. If I could speak Dari, I would have screamed at him to shut up and stop lying.

I just got out from the car, walked in the mud with my Nine West shin-length boots (which sank right into the mud) and stood on a hill fuming. My feet by then weighed a tonne because of the mud on my boots.

I told Arif that he would have to walk to the nearest village and get help from the people. He said he should stay being the “experienced” driver and Farid should go. So, Farid went and then came back 30 minutes later reporting that the next nearest village is 6 hours away on foot. I was like, fucking hell, did the people of Panjao put a curse on me?

Then, we saw this old man riding on a donkey passing by. I was running after him and was completely upset with how the rest of the team just sat in the cars and watched. By then, I really did start screaming at them. I told them that they could have asked the man to lend us his donkey or something, whatever it was, just do something. What were they waiting for?

By then, I was slowly giving up hope on making it to Panjao. I had no idea how far away it was from where I was because I have learnt not to trust Arif. I had my handset radio with me and I was trying to call Panjao base on Channel 6; somehow hoping that someone there would hear us if they were near enough.

....to be continued in Part XV......

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XIII)

Monday, May 10 2004

Panjao, Afghanistan

I was deployed to Panjao on 26 April 2004. I was supposed to leave with Danny Brown, who eventually became the Provincial Process and Training Officer for Panjao. Danny and I worked in East Timor before and he was my coordinator.

That morning when we were supposed to leave, Danny decided to stay back for another day in Bamyan because he had not managed to finish what he had to do. It was about 12pm when he decided to stay back and I was to go with A (name withheld), our new Provincial Logistics Officer from the Philippines. A was to be deployed to Uruzghan and he would stop over in Panjao for one night before proceeding to Uruzghan.

It takes at least 6 hours to go to Panjao from Bamyan and at 12pm, it was really not a good idea to leave. However, I was determined to go because I had stayed up until 2am the night before packing my things and office. Besides, I was at a point where I just couldn’t stand staying in Bamyan for another night. Gayatri has given me the green light to leave at that time as well. I think he wanted to get rid of me too after finding out how desperate I was to leave Bamyan.

There are 2 ways to go to Panjao; the long or the short way. The long way takes more than 10 hours through Besud district in Wardak Province. The short way takes 5 hours through Yakawlang district and the Shatu pass. Shatu pass is closed during the winter because of excessive snow. It’s a narrow path through mountainous terrain in the middle of nowhere.

Early that morning, at about 6am, another convoy from UNAMA had gone to Panjao through the Shatu pass. I called the radio room to find out whether it was safe to use the Shatu route that afternoon and the radio operator reported that the UNAMA convoy had arrived in Panjao within 5 hours after using the Shatu pass and hence I had the green light.

We left in 2 UN Ford Rangers with tonnes of luggages and office equipments at the back of the pick-ups (international UN staffs have to travel in 2 cars for security reasons). The 2 drivers we had were newly recruited; Arif and Farid.

We normally have the Ford Runners with the Barrett, an older version of radio communication system. But with these new Ford Rangers pick-ups provided by UNOPS, it uses a newer type of radio; the Codan. Since it was the first time I was travelling in the Rangers, I did not know how to use the Codan.

Before we left, I asked Arif whether he knew how to use the Codan and whether he could show me. Because we were late, Danny just shoved us away and said that the driver knew. We all assume that part of the driver’s responsibilities is to use the radio communications, as he needs to report to the radio room every hour. But I insisted to find out from the driver himself and he told me yes. So, we left.

Also, I was supposed to carry a Thuraya with me when I’m on a road mission. Before I left, I asked Gayatri whether I could have a Thuraya and he said it was not necessary, as we would have radio communications.

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

Panjao, Afghanistan

So, if the Acting Regional Coordinator said it was not necessary, then I guessed it was fine.

Anyway, we took off and arrived in Yakawlang at about 4:00pm and had about 3 more hours to drive. Because we were on the Rangers with heavy loads at the back and new drivers who were not familiar with the roads, it prolonged the usual travel time. We stopped by for the drivers to take a break and then proceeded with our journey.

A few minutes after we left Yakawlang, the weather started to change and turned cloudy. I thought it was going to rain heavily but it just drizzled. Off and on, the sky cleared and it was sunny. Yakawlang is the biggest district in Bamyan Province with extremely dispersed population settlement. The people are more educated than anywhere else in Bamyan. The landscape in Yakawlang is different from anywhere else I had seen either. It was green and there were lots of beautiful white and pink cherry blossoms blooming in the field.

There is a “hidden” treasure in Afghanistan and it lies in the middle of Yakawlang. The treasure is named Band-I-Mir. It should be considered as one of the Seven Wonders of the World but unfortunately it isn’t.

In Bamyan itself – there are 4 famous landmarks; the Buddhas, the City of Sighs, the Red City and Band-I-Mir. All of these are in Bamyan Province. The Buddhas are pretty self-explanatory. The City of Sighs used to be a prosperous ancient city in Afghanistan hundreds of years ago. Then, an emperor ordered the city to be flooded with water to drown the people living there. As a result, the population was wiped out and hence the name City of Sighs as it was filled with pain and suffering. The Red City is a place with red mountains. I have not been there before but I’ve seen pictures of it.

Band-I-Mir is just breathtaking from the photos I’ve seen. It’s a huge lake surrounded by mountains that look like the Grand Canyon in America. The water is deep blue with the reflection of the clear blue skies of Bamyan. It’s a very popular spot for fishing and picnic in the summer. Raffaele had been there last summer and the photos taken are evidence of the real existence of the place. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have believed that such a beautiful place exists in this world. Whenever Kabul hot-shots come to visit us in Bamyan, all they want to do is to see the Buddhas and Band-I-Mir. None of them cares about what we are doing or what we need.

I immediately spotted Band-I-Mir from afar but we were not exactly near it. The drivers kept asking me whether I wanted to stop by at Band-I-Mir and have fish. They even suggested staying overnight in Yakawlang and then travel to Panjao the next morning. The idea was tempting as I don’t know when I will ever get a chance to see Band-I-Mir but that day, my whole focus and determination was to arrive in Panjao. So, I told them to move on.

Then, as we were close to Shatu pass (which is just one and half hour away from Panjao), it started pissing down with rain. The wind was strong and I was beginning to worry about our documents and equipment at the back of the pick-ups.

Then, as we moved along Shatu pass, my worried about the loot turned into whether we would ever survive the bad weather. Our cars were stuck a couple of times because by now, the roads were slippery and muddy. The ground had become so soft that the tyres kept getting caught between the mud.

It was getting dark and cold as well. It was 8pm when I started to realize that we were stuck right in the middle of nowhere on Shatu pass. It was completely dark and still pouring with rain.

....to be continued in Part XIV......

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XII)

G was supposed to be deployed to Panjao. So, it was my duty to brief G on the operational plan for Panjao. G spent about 3 days in Bamyan before deployment. Within those 3 days, I tried to explain and brief him about the plan which Raffaele and I had spent our energy and time on. The plan was a masterpiece and it was brilliant in the sense that we covered all details with the limited resources we have; meticulous coordination plan with copies of maps, sites, work schedule, etc. Thanks to Raffaele and Jaffar, I had one of the most fulfilling and satisfying work experiences in my life.

But you know what? G never once bothered or truly appreciated it. Because he was going to be in Bamyan for 3 days only, all he cared about was to visit the Buddhas and shopping at the bazaar. He kept changing the subject whenever I tried to talk to him and he never once asked me about "the plan".

It suddenly dawned on him that he wasn’t coming here for a holiday. He was in for a hard time. You see, this mission is not like in East Timor (beaches, sunny weather and freedom of movement). All he kept saying was, “This isn’t as easy as I thought.” I was deeply troubled and angry with him because I kept thinking that I had put my heart into this and done all the hard work and this man was just going to destroy it. As arrogant and blunt as it sounded, I was insulted by his presence.

Anyway, Uruzghan was then the only Province left without an international civic education officer. Collin, the PFC for Uruzghan, is an easy-going person as compared to Raffaele, who is a perfectionist in many ways. I was worried about civic education activities in Uruzghan. No educators had been recruited at all. So, I thought my next task would be Uruzghan.

By that time, the core staffs have been deployed and I asked Hari to allow me to visit Uruzghan for a week just to recruit people and start training. Gayatri, the PFC for Bamyan and also the acting Regional Coordinator at that time (Hari was sent to Mazar temporarily) denied permission for me to go.

In actual fact, because I’m staying in Bamyan, Gayatri is also my PFC. He kept saying that he needed me in Bamyan, etc. I got pissed off and told Hari that Bamyan is just about the easiest Province because it’s close to the Regional Center with all the communications network and accessibility of roads, etc. Bamyan started registration in phase I and had the experience already and we have our 2 most experienced national trainers in Bamyan. PFCs like Collin have nothing and as the coordinator for civic education, it was my responsibility to provide support to other Provinces as well.

Unfortunately, Gayatri has a huge influence on Hari and both were determined to keep me in Bamyan. I was exasperated and at one point decided to resign and leave. I told myself that I was not going to call myself a regional civic education coordinator if I am not allowed to do my job.

I called Kabul and asked them to issue a clear terms of reference for my role as the coordinator but they never did. I knew by then that all this coordinator thing is pure bullshit and I was going to be stuck in Bamyan forever.

I had sleepless nights and I threw myself into depression. Everyone else by then had left. I was stuck in Bamyan with Gayatri. I was bored because Bamyan lacks the challenge which the other Provinces face. So I lost focus.

Then one day, I just got mad especially when I saw how the new Regional Process and Training Trainer, Danny, got to go around supporting other teams in the Provinces. I was adamant that I wasn’t going to be held back like that.

I had a discussion with my coordinator in Kabul and explained my condition. I even wrote to Hari and disclosed my concern about my role in Bamyan. Eventually, I had the clearance to leave Bamyan. I was sent to Panjao and G re-deployed to Uruzghan. Phillip was sent back to Bamyan as the “coordinator” after I told him that the coordinator thing is all bullshit and he will be bored in Bamyan.

Well, he has reported that he is bored in Bamyan at the moment and just the way he likes it!

...to be continued in Part XIII.....

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part XI)

Recently, I am working with our national Provincial Public Information Officer (PPIO), Tahir, to organise an event for the people of Panjao. Tahir is a famous traditional singer in Bamyan, which is why I recruited him for the position so that he could attract the people with his musical talent. He is some sort of our local electoral ambassador, if you like.

(I like Tahir very much. He has this baby face that has the ability to brighten up everyone's day just with a smile. He has a kind heart as well and when something made him sad, he had this expression where you just knew he really cared and felt affected by it.)

We wanted to organize a musical concert with electoral theme in it. It’s a fun way of educating people and also to foster unity among them. I just thought that the Afghans have been suffering for years and it’s time to rejoice and have some light and easy entertainment. No major event with all the boring speeches but just uplifting traditional music with meaningful messages.

I went to talk to the principal of this high school to allow us to use the school compound for the concert. We also wanted some of his female teachers and students to come up with some drama, skit, etc.

The principal is a Haji and an elderly man. We presented him with our programme and as soon as he saw musical concert, he started telling me that the women should not be allowed to sit in the concert and asked to leave the event when the concert starts. I was startled because I thought the Hazaras are more liberal compared to the Tajiks and Pashtos.

I asked him why and he told me that the people believe that the Taliban was a result of women participating in musical concert in Afghanistan. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My initial reaction was to break into a guffaw because of the ridiculous statement he made. But I knew that if I start to show signs of hilarity in what he said which, to him appeared to be a very grave issue, I would only make matter worse.

So, with as serious a face as I could, I told him that the Taliban came because certain groups of people used religion to gain power and control over others. It happens in other parts of the world as well and it’s not because of women enjoying music. Then he went on about how uneducated the people are and they would not understand or accept this.

I told him that we were not trying to organize a rock or pop concert. The songs contain messages regarding the election, etc. and because I’m working for the UN which promotes equality between men and women, I cannot organize an event which discriminates  women.

Then I tried to convince him by saying that the Islamic State of Afghanistan Constitution protects women’s rights as well. I told him that if the people of Afghanistan want to progress and develop, they would have to acknowledge the role and rights of women in society of which the women make up 60 per cent of the population. I asked him to put aside the stereotype people have here but what did he think about it himself?

He kept quiet. Then he said, by allowing the women to vote is a big step in acknowledging their rights. The people need to take each step at a time. Point taken and I respected that argument.

There were two female teachers in the room and I turned to them and asked them what they thought about it. The women started getting excited and I didn’t know what they said. Then my Language Assistant translated that the women said they should be allowed to sit in the concert and they want to enjoy the music as well. I thought to myself…oh-oh…these men are going to go around and poison the people’s mind that I’m the devil that brings bad influence to their women.

I left the meeting promising the principal that I would not organize an event which might create controversy or commotion in the community because that would defeat the whole purpose. But also, I would not organize an event which discriminate women on unreasonable grounds and the Taliban excuse just isn’t good enough. We would either have a concert with both men and women or we don’t have a concert at all. But I would discuss this with other people to find out their opinions.

When I got back to report this to Raffaele, the Provincial Field Coordinator (PFC) for Panjao, and he thought I was being paranoid for nothing. Maybe I was but at the same time, a lot of these European or Western people tend to be very “insensitive” to the local culture and thought that liberation is all about the bullet-approach – just shoot. But what if you end up shooting yourself in the foot?

He kept insisting that the people have to start somewhere and now is the time. But how do we know whether now is truly the time? I could not answer that question in absolute certainty.

Then I thought to myself, am I turning into Mahathir Mohammad? Once he said that human rights should suit the temperament of a country or something to that extent. I just don’t want to end up being one of those Westerner who pushes his/her ideas around and thinking that his/her idea is the right one.

So anyway, we came up with a brilliant idea of putting the burden on the District Governor. Tahir and Jaffar, Raffaele’s Language Assistant, went to see him and presented to him what Haji Yunoos (the principal) had told us. The District Governor was absolutely mad when he heard this and started cursing who the hell is Haji Yunoos to decide what is best for the people. He said that it is perfectly all right to have a concert with the women in it.

So, Raffaele and I thought, if the District Governor has said so – then if something happens, we’re just going to say that the District Governor gave the green light. Not our problem at all. So it really makes me wonder whether Haji Yunoos is a pro-Taliban man himself. We’ll see, as the concert is due on 13 May.

Back to how I ended up in Panjao. Initially, I was meant to stay in Bamyan to be the Regional Civic Education Coordinator instead of a Provincial Civic Education Officer. This would be a de facto “promotion” kind of thing without any increment of allowance or official elevation of status. But it does mean bigger responsibilities and challenges.

There were just Phillip and I and one of us had to stay at the regional level. We were still waiting for 2 other international civic education officers to cover the whole of Central Highlands (which has 4 Provinces). Hari left it to us to decide who would stay.

Neither Phillip nor I wanted to stay in Bamyan. Phillip wanted to escape the extra responsibility while I just want to get out of Bamyan after being there for 6 months although acknowledging the fact that the condition would be worse in the Province. I’ve heard and seen the hardship of people in the Province.

Raffaele used to go on a road mission to Panjao to assess registration sites and to talk to the people before he was permanently deployed to Panjao. After 10 days, he would come back looking completely exhausted, dirty and extremely thin and malnourished. My heart would literal ache seeing that. But I wanted to broaden my knowledge and understanding of Central Highlands. I’ve heard so much about the Provinces and wanted to see it for myself.

Anyway, the civic education headquarters in Kabul recommended me to stay in Bamyan and I got pressured into staying. At the same time, I had a different or should I say idealistic understanding of my role as the coordinator. I thought I would be able to travel to all 4 provinces doing monitoring and support for the civic education staffs. That thought appealed to me and I decided to stay in Bamyan. Phillip was sent to Ghazni province.

So my first task was to support Panjao team knowing that our 2 new international staffs would not arrive until end of April and middle of May. I worked on the operational plan for civic education with Raffaele and established good working relationship with the Panjao national civic educators. All these took place in Bamyan prior to the deployment.

We worked until 4:30am one night and came out with a well-organised plan for both the national Field Coordinators and Civic Educators. I was very pleased with it. On the day of their deployment, I stood at the gate waving the team off. They moved in a convoy of 10 grey Russian jeeps.

As each jeep moved out from the gate, I bid them farewell and knew each and everyone of them by their names and which area they were going. By the 4^th jeep, my eyes were brimming with tears. Luckily I had my sunglasses on. I did not know I was going to be that emotional but at that time, I felt sad not being able to go along with them after working with them so intensely for the past few weeks.

After they left, I went to my office and tried to gather my emotion together. But as soon as I stepped inside, Homa, started bawling. That sight just turned on the tap of my soul. We both just hugged each other and cried. I guess what had made me sad was the fact that I would never know how they were doing in the field and what sort of problems they would be facing.

The jeeps have no radio communications and they all do not have any Thurayas (satellite phones). National staffs are not bound by security regulations. They are not covered by insurance and hence are able to travel without all the mandatory installation of communication gadgets. Raffaele could not go with them either because the office and accommodation in Panjao were not MOSS (minimum operational security standard) compliant yet. But he had to send the national staffs out because time was running out.

Raffaele was constantly filled with guilt for sending his team out without all the communication tools in place and we hated Kabul for forcing us to start operation without providing us with the proper support or resources.

UNAMA is completely fucked up here and it is violating all human rights standards. You might think that, “Hey, it’s a war zone here and who cares about human rights?” Well, I do and in view that everything has been less than ideal here, we just have to learn to cope with it, whether we like it or not. A lesson, which I have finally learned after so many years.

So, we didn’t hear from the team until a week after when Raffaele was finally deployed to Panjao. I stayed behind and was quite miserable. By that time, we had received another international civic education officer, G (withholding real name) from Nepal.

....to be continued in Part XII....

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part X)

The second woman who came for the interview, Amina, also works for IAM. In the interview, I would always ask the IAM girls how they felt about leaving their health care profession to work with us. How would they feel about these women walking from a village 5 hours away to seek treatment and there is no women to attend to them. I wanted to understand their job motivation.

Amina surprised me. She is a member of the Women’s Affair Association. She told me that she thinks women’s political right is important and she wants to be a part of the process. So, I asked her what about the right to health care and is political right more important that life itself? She answered, by participating in the election, the women are able to change and improve the policy of a country; better health care, better education, etc. this is more sustainable. Amina is not a high school graduate but she certainly read Amartya Sen alright! I was really impressed with her.

Did we select her? Well….unfortunately not. We had to choose only one IAM staff and we chose Sara instead. Sara had no problem travelling alone and she showed great interest and passion for the work. She was talkative and managed to convince me that she is willing to walk the extra mile just for the women. It was a difficult decision we had to make but Sara has the edge of being able to travel extensively.

Working with these Afghans has taught me to be tougher and less naïve. I used to get emotional and weak easily as my heart poured out to their plight and living condition. I felt sorry for them and hence clouded my ability to judge according to what was best for the programme and the people in general (the whole big picture). It was so easy to sympathise and cave in to a few random people but forgetting about what would eventually be beneficial to the bigger population.

I have learned it through the hard way, how these Afghans manipulate and take advantage of others. They don’t trust each other and I guess it is a product of the years of ethnic fighting, etc. How does one learn to love and respect others when one has not been loved or respected?

Despite this revelation and understanding, I still need to make decisions based on who would be the best person to carry out the job so that the women could get the best out of it despite how potentially unpopular I became. In addition, there are always tonnes of people who need a job and the list is endless. So, what can we do?

This is also a product of working with international staffs. A lot of these international staffs do not show respect to the locals and are arrogant as hell. So these Afghan staffs start to pick up bad work ethics and professionalism.

This is especially prominent in Kabul. Every time I’m in Kabul, I notice how much more rude and disrespectful the Afghan staffs are compared to Bamyan. I am very fond of all our drivers in Bamyan and have a lot of respect for them. They are simple people working hard and being paid honest money. I feel safe with them and know that they will protect me if anything happens.

In Kabul, the drivers show bad attitude and think they are too smart to be drivers. I have more respect and gratitude towards our illiterate “chowkidor”, Zarif than these Kabuli drivers.

One thing which has not vanished from my sense of perspective is how uncompromising it is to remain honest and humble in our every day life. I used to think that I’m an altruistic person but now I begin to realize that I’m not. I can be very selfish when the going gets rough. Living here provides an opportunity for self-reflection and I learn a lot more about myself.

Hari, our Regional Coordinator, discourages book reading rather than promoting it. He reasons that one’s life is a book itself. One should learn to read oneself and discover the content of one’s life. If you can’t finish reading and understanding yourself, why bother reading other books. Books shape and distort one’s perception of life. Now, I’m beginning to value and appreciate his philosophy of life.

As I have mentioned, after living here for 7 months, I have become tougher and stronger. I have handled many situations in an uncompromising manner which makes me a less popular person. This is especially hard being a woman. I can never stop emphasizing how disadvantageous it is being a woman here. This has reached to an extent whereby I’m beginning to have nightmares in my sleep.

I have dreamt about being killed for my uncompromising principles here. In Lal, the District Governor tried to interfere in the recruitment process and lobbied some of his staffs. Once I knew this, I had immediately informed all our national staffs not to entertain this even if it’s from the District Governor. I will not allow politics and nepotism to rule our recruitment process. That night, I dreamt that the District Governor had sent someone to assassinate me.

Within 2 days in Lal, everyone knew who I was and the “power” I had in recruiting people. I began to feel uncomfortable walking on the streets when we announced the successful candidates because these people knew I was the one responsible in making the selection. That was the first time, I felt self-conscious of my own presence in Afghanistan and the possible threat of being an “unorthodox” woman in such a conservative and patriarchal society.

....to be continued in part XI.....

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part IX)

I was recently sent to Lal Wa Sarjangal, a district about 5 hours away from Panjao to recruit some staffs. My one-week journey in Lal is another story altogether. Anyway, I interviewed more than 30 people within 2 days and had a number of frustration and stress along the way.

We were having so much difficulty recruiting the only 4 female civic educators we are allowed for Lal district. In Lal, there are only 5 female high school teachers and 12 health care workers. These are about the only educated women in Lal. The dilemma was quite obvious – who else can we recruit apart from these women because of our no teacher and health care worker policy?

We couldn’t possibly have primary and secondary school graduate educating people on democracy and the election. The only solution which I could come up with was to talk to the Department of Education and the NGOs about the possibility of allowing some of their staffs to take 2-month unpaid leave to work with us. But of course, the NGOs refused. Since the beginning, UNAMA is already in bad terms with the NGOs especially Medicine Sans Frontier (MSF), OXFAM, ICRC and Solidarites (all well-funded and influential humanitarian relief NGOs) because of the whole “poaching” of staffs issue.

I was about to give up and had a nervous breakdown by the end of the 4 days; thinking that we would have to recruit the women from other districts. Although you may think that would be the best solution but at the same time, we wanted to hire people from the local community for many reasons. First, these people would be familiar and known in the area. Secondly, it would provide equal opportunity to the local people as well.

You have no idea how I felt. I was so frustrated because I felt that this was truly a mission impossible.

At the same time, Aliase was getting really exasperated with me. He could and would not try to understand why we were implementing such a policy. Despite having recurrence discussions and arguments with him about this, he still refuse to understand and abide by the policy. He would get mad at me for rejecting applications from these people to the point of being rebellious and defiant. Even the District Governor could not understand me when we talked to him about it.

I was the only female international staff in the whole convoy to Lal. Sitting in front of the District Governor with a bunch of elders was quite an experience. I was not scared, nervous or even intimidated. I don’t know why. It can be frustrating though because they would discuss things in Dari and I wouldn’t understand what they were talking about. The interpreters were quite languid in translating things. And also because I am a woman, they normally don’t feel my presence as important enough to warrant translation unless a question is directed at me.

Anyway, I had to tell them that no doubt registration is important in Afghanistan and has an impact on its future, we cannot focus our whole lives on it. Come what may – registration will happen. But what’s also important is life itself. We need to consider other implications such as recruitment of these staffs.

Then, I went on about the whole Taliban sob stories and ask them whether their conscience would allow the girls and women to be deprived of education and medical treatment? Medical care in Lal has a particular significance for the women. There is only one health care NGO in Lal with female staffs. Many sick women from far away villages would walk for hours to this NGO for treatment.

Everyone stayed silent when I asked them about their conscience. I think they would have poofed-poofed me off if I am an Afghan woman but because I am a foreigner working for their registration process, they could not take me too lightly.

Then I proposed to the District Governor to speak with the Department of Education and NGOs about the 2-month unpaid leave in which he did. He put a lot of pressure on them and finally the Department of Education and IAM (a Christian medical healthcare NGO funded by Scandinavian governments) agreed to release one staff each to work with us. IAM told us that we could interview their staffs but only select one.

So as you can imagine, applications started flooding in and a group of women came to see me, etc. In fact, Lal has a Women’s Affair Association made up of this handful of educated women. Their mission statement is to promote women’s rights. So, these women are more forward thinking than the women in Panjao (which by the way, I have hardly seen since I have arrived in Panjao).

What was interesting to me was when the entourage of women prepared a welcome poem for me. I don’t know whether that was a custom or they were just trying to suck up to me. Whatever it was, it felt odd to receive such a treatment. It felt like colonial treatment which made me felt uncomfortable.

So, we managed to interview some of the women and there were 2 special cases which I would remember forever of my stay in Lal.

The interview panel consisted of Aliase, Latifa (our new provincial female trainer) and I. This woman, Khadijah works with IAM. She told us that she had been granted a 3 month-leave and she could work with us. I asked her whether she had applied for the leave in order to work with us. She said that even if she didn’t get the job, she would have taken that leave anyway.

So, I asked her whether it was customary to take such a long leave and to which she replied that she was entitled to it. I thought, hmmm….strange for IAM to grant such a long leave.

So, we went through the whole usual reality check thing with Khadijah. I wanted to make sure that these women understood what they are heading for. It is not an easy job with us as it requires a lot of travelling and long working hours. We normally recruit women who are able to travel far distances, walk for long hours and work alone without a "mahram" or male escort in Dari.

Anyway, she agreed to everything, etc. She was not very talkative and appeared a little bit awkward and unfriendly in the interview. I tend to warm up to people with cheerful disposition in interviews. Some girls were giggly and I thought that was charming and appealing.

So, I told her that I felt she was a little bit too shy and quiet and asked her whether she was nervous and would be different when she speaks to the local community. She gave me a monosyllabic “no” with no further explanation or justification. I asked her whether she could elaborate on her answer. She answered me, “I have answered to all your questions. What else can I say?” I thought to myself, gee, that would earn you a job for sure.

The moment she left the interview, Aliase casually mentioned to us that he suspected her to be pregnant. I turned to him and said, “Whoa, hang on. What are you saying? Did you guys discuss something in Dari and I missed it?” He said no but asked me whether I had notice how weird she behaved.

I said, “Well…she was quiet and unfriendly but that did not mean she’s pregnant.” I turned to Latifa and asked her whether she suspected the same. Latifa is a mother so I thought she would know. Latifa shook her head and said she didn’t notice any sign of pregnancy. But I told them that we had to find out because if she is indeed pregnant, we could not recruit her. The physical exertion needed for the job would affect her pregnancy and we don’t want to be responsible for any miscarriage, etc.

So, I asked Latifa to run after her to find out although it was a really personal question. Latifa went off and came back with one of the most shocking news. She told us that Khadijah was due to deliver in 3 days’ time!!!

I was completely dumbfounded. It wasn’t so much as because she didn’t look pregnant at all. Afghan women wear very loose clothing and they tend to hide their pregnancy because it’s considered a sensitive and embarrassing thing. But the fact that this woman thought that we would be paying her money to lie on the bed nursing her new-borne child. What was she taking us for?

She knew she would have to start work the very next day. I just could not fathom her mentality until today as I’m typing this out. Forget about the level of education here but what about common sense and logic? Yes, perhaps she needs the money, etc. but how was she going to lie her way out of the situation. It was not like we were never going to find out.

Secondly – HOW ON EARTH DID ALIASE KNOW AND NOT US, WOMEN???

......to be continued in part X....

Emails from Bamyan, Afghanistan (Part VIII)

Friday, April 23 2004

Bamyan, Afghanistan

Dear friends,

My warmest wishes to you all.

Another episode of my life here in Afghanistan is over. It has been more than six months since I have arrived. Many things have happened since then and many more would come in the next few months. For now, I can only share some of the more significant events or incidents that had happened.

Friday, May 7 2004

Panjao, Afghanistan

The previous “entry” of my life in Afghanistan was disrupted until now. As you can see, I’m now in Panjao, a district about 6 hours away on the road from Bamyan. I was deployed to Panjao on 26 April 2004. I have been here since then.

I am now the Provincial Civic Education Officer in charge of civic education activities covering Panjao, Lal Wa Sarjangal and Waras districts. There is no internet connection or phone line here. I’m hoping to send this off whenever I get the chance to do so. We have been promised internet connection in a month’s time but the prospect looks bleak as things; i.e. logistics implementation, are moving very slowly here.

As I have mentioned, many things have happened and I have often lost count of the days spent here in Afghanistan and don’t know where to start.

I think the last time I wrote was in March and I have written a lot about the International Women’s Day (IWD) in Bamyan. As it turned out, the celebration went well and I have not heard from the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission (AIHRC) since then.

One significant incident related to the IWD worth mentioning was the night before the event took place. Although the Department of Women’s Affair (DOWA) and Save the Women and Children of Afghanistan (SWCA) were meant to be the forerunners of the event, they never executed their responsibilities and at the eleventh hour, we had to take over the tasks which they have failed to implement. Hence, in the end we acted as both the donor and also the “beneficiary”.

It was a new lesson learnt for me and each subsequent event contributed to my loss of faith and also respect for these women.

However, to be fair, a lot of credit goes to Homa, who worked really hard as she put all her energy in the event. I did a lot of the office work and left a lot of the running around to her. But on that night, I knew that she needed support and assistance and promised her that I would spend some time in the evening to help her with the decorations, etc. We were at a crossroad, where we were forced to decide either to leave the DoWA and SWCA women to their own devices and had all the guests disappointed with the outcome of a failed event, or to clean up their mess and make sure it was a success. We chose the latter of course.

By that time, the workers had set up the tent (Rubhall) provided by WFP. I had a really long and stressful day and a lot of the stress came from the event itself. I was not too pleased that I had to spend the rest of the evening doing somebody else’s job. But when I entered the tent, the sight of some women and men working together really washed away all the frustration and stress.

There were tonnes of multi-coloured paper frills, balloons and heaps of other bright and beautiful decorative items on the floor waiting to be put up. Homa had gone to Kabul to buy all the stuff and I was amazed at how much stuff we can get from Kabul. Most of the decorations are meant for weddings and as poor as most of the Afghans might be, they have no qualms lavishing on weddings.

I thought to myself that even if the event did not go well, I had somehow felt the satisfaction already. Men and women working side by side in Afghanistan is truly a rare sight and what matters most is the team spirit and solidarity amongst the people, which was clearly seen that night.

It took us a long time to set up the decorations as the tent was huge (it can accommodate about 200 people) and by nightfall, it was completely dark which made our task very difficult. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, 2 UN cars came to the rescue.

The tent had an opening at each end. Each car had then parked at each opening of the tent with their head lights turned on, illuminating the tent. It was all very surreal and exciting and we managed to finish our work by 9pm.

I can’t explain how it felt like. I guess it was somehow an event which had really brought all of us together and the most satisfying part was that I was the only foreigner and in essence, it had truly been their event. The consciousness of knowing how the team; whether they are drivers, translators, (and most of them were not even working for my programme) or educators, they all wanted to make sure that the event would be a success. Assistance of any kind was offered voluntarily without being asked for.

One person who surprisingly rose to the occasion was Halima. Halima is a very special woman. Not only is she a real beauty, she is humble, sweet, shy and if I can say, an introvert. She carries herself with a certain quietness and mystery in her, which is not surprising that she is an object of many men’s desire.

Since Homa has that leadership quality in her, Halima often remained in the background. But since Homa and I had been in Kabul for awhile, we had to put Halima in charge of the event in Bamyan. I think it was the best thing that had happened to the team. Halima managed to prove her potential by handling everything in her calm and dignified manner. While being left alone to drive the force in Bamyan, she has gained a lot of experience in playing a leadership role, which in turn has increased her self-confidence.

So, while observing the dynamics of my fellow Afghan colleagues working together, I couldn’t help but feel proud of these two women, who seem to have blossomed in their own special ways. Watching them giving suggestions, sharing ideas, laughing together with their male colleagues was a joy. They have finally gained respect from their male counterparts. In a way, you can say that it was a defining moment in my career in Afghanistan.

After we wrapped up, we all went to the local bazaar to have dinner together. I treated all of them to what had cost me very little but meant so much to them. We had a good laugh and forgot about what was looming in front of us. It had been a good day after all.

Needless to say, I was very impressed and pleased with the work done when I saw how beautiful the tent was in the morning. Our event was published on the Voter Registration Update newsletter in Kabul. It is really good to see Bamyan on the news after being constantly neglected by the media.

Although the event concluded successfully, the remnants remained a constant headache for me. DOWA and SWCA had washed off their hands conveniently and we had to pick up the tabs/bills for the workers and guests; food, transportation, accommodation, etc. It would have been easier for me to just leave everything to them but it would leave us with a bigger headache when UNDP starts chasing us for the financial report.

But the beauty of being the “focal point” for UNDP is that, I am in the position to write a monitoring report and to recommend whether the group/organization should receive future funding. And in this case, any future recommendation from me is close to a clear negative. I have only one comment for DOWA – TROUBLE, STAY CLEAR.

Working with these women was a challenge which resulted in major disappointment. Although the event was worth having, trying to empower and encourage them was in a way a failure. Not only they did not embrace the opportunity given, they took advantage of everything. Sometimes, I wonder whether it was my fault. Perhaps, I have not tried harder and if the circumstance was different; i.e. we were given more time, it might have been different.

A typical day for me at work in Bamyan was meeting with a lot of people that came in with problems and expecting me to solve it. I spent half of my day having different people; whether they are staffs or not, coming into my office with a bunch of problems. Instead of a civic education office, it slowly turned into a trouble shooting center.

I had a really small office in Bamyan. We call it the Cogim. It’s basically a sea container with about the size of 2m x 4m. We had 2 tables, 1 phone, 2 computers, 1 printer, 1 shelf, 5 chairs and tonnes of posters and materials in the container. Phillip and I shared the office with a bunch of other civic education staffs.

Usually the office had about 7 or more people in it; groups of NGOs, organizations, etc. coming in to talk. So, imagine the space we had. Phillip tended to ignore the people who came in and I would be the person listening to their woes. Frankly, I wished that I didn’t have to deal with these people because it wasted a lot of my time and energy.

However, it is part of my responsibilities to listen to them. All this left me with very little time to do my own work.

Things got worse when we had to recruit hundreds of new national staffs for the start of the second phase of registration. I was in charge of recruiting civic educators and for nearly 2 weeks, I was occupied with shortlisting of applications and interviews.

What had gotten on my nerves many times was when the applicants would come straight into my office to hand me the applications hoping that they could put in some good words for themselves and then expecting to be employed. We had somehow established a system whereby, all applications should be sent to administration and then handed over to me for shortlisting at the end of the deadline.

But no, nepotism and cronyism that are so rampant in Afghanistan made my life that much more difficult. After telling the security guards many times not to send any person applying for jobs to my office, they did it anyway. After telling my Afghan colleagues many times not to do the same, they did it anyway.

Often, they would bring their friends into the office and then asked me whether they would be employed. Not to mention, some mornings when I entered my office, I saw stacks of job application staring at me from my table. My instinctive reaction was to tear the applications and throw them into the bin. But thank God for that inner voice in me that constantly reminded me to be patient.

Some of my Afghan colleagues even send me letters recommending their friends for the job. I never entertained them and that, I did throw into the bin. I even received private emails asking me to recruit friends and people stopping me on the street to talk to me, etc. There were a couple of people who had the nerve to come to my accommodation to speak to me about jobs. These kinds of things really annoyed me.

(I realise now that I had been overly-protective of the whole process. My inexperience in life as well as idealism had prevented me from understanding the cultural context of the situation. Instead of dealing with the whole thing calmly, I made a big deal out of it, to my own detriment. From this, I have in a way learned a lesson. I failed to put myself to the test and instead chose to judge others. I should have asked myself whether I would have done the same, if I had been in their position.)

Being sort of like a local “celebrity” by virtue of the power entrusted on me to recruit people may all sound like fun, but it wasn’t. I have never been a person who relishes in power.

Fortunately though, I had no qualms telling people quite bluntly that I will not take any applications directly from them and I will not entertain any lobbying. Shortlisting was hell because a lot of the Afghans tend to make decisions based on emotion.

We had a shortlisting panel consisted of our own civic education team (local and international), a representative from UNAMA and UNOPS. As we are doing this Afghanisation process, we are trying to include the Afghans in a lot of the decision-making. But often enough, I had to interfere because they would shortlist people based on the applicant’s financial status or if they are their friends/relatives.

In the first phase of registration, we did a lot of mistakes by recruiting a lot of family members. It wasn’t intentional because we were new and we did not know the people there. They can be quite sneaky as well. Most of the time, they would not put their full names; i.e. their father names on the applications which made it impossible for us to identify whether they were related to each other.

Another problem we faced was the limited pool of educated and qualified people in the Central Highlands. It is easy to recruit qualified people in bigger cities like Kabul, Jalalabad and Mazar-e-Sharif. But in Central Highlands, you get 14-year-old female teachers and secondary school graduates.

We would then put up the names of shortlisted candidates for interviews. Again, people would march into the office and demand why they had not been shortlisted. Some would start bitching about those who had been shortlisted and questioned me why so and so was chosen and not them.

I swear many times I wished I could tell them that that kind of attitude reinforced our decision not to select them. I usually have no patience and tolerance for such attitude. I would just tell them that applications do not warrant an automatic employment and it was not up to them to select people. It was up to us and they should not argue with the decision. Period – end of discussion.

Some of my international colleagues would spend considerable amount of time entertaining these people which infuriated me. Yes, it’s a rat chase and everyone is fighting to get a job but let's not forget we have a job to do ourselves.

Things wouldn't have gotten out of control if it wasn't the UN's fault as well. The UN is paying big money to these people and it’s stupid. Other NGOs are paying national staffs USD200 per month and the UN is paying USD500 per month! The UN is spoiling the market and also making these people go money-crazy.

The Ministry of Education and health care NGOs are pleading to us not to “poach” their staffs. We have come up with a policy not to recruit teachers and health care workers. It used to be a dilemma for me because I really believe that people are entitled to apply for new jobs especially if it’s a better job with better pay. But after a lot of discussion with my other international colleagues, I soon understood the negative implications if all teachers and healthcare workers leave their jobs. Most of the educated women are in these 2 professions. During the Taliban regime, the women were deprived of education and healthcare and my conscience does not allow me to recruit these women. Once these women receive such a high salary, they often refuse to go back to their old jobs and tend to migrate to bigger cities.

Because of a tight budget, the UN authorizes very limited national staffs to the Central Highlands. For Panjao, I am only entitled to 22 Civic Educators for 3 district; Panjao, Lal Wa Sarjangal and Waras. The estimated voter population for Panjao district alone is close to 30,000 people. We are given only one month to register these people. Now, tell me how on earth are 10 Civic Educators going to educate 30,000 people within one month??!!

So, someone on top there is really smart to pay USD500 per person instead of USD500 for 2 persons. We could have doubled up the number of educators by paying them the market price. I don’t think it takes a genius to figure this out.

UNOPS, the agency responsible for the payment of national staffs is paying the national trainers and educators the same salary. The trainers are supposed to train and supervise the educators. So in essence, the educators are the trainers’ subordinates but they are receiving the same pay scale. This is demoralizing for the trainers and many of them are beginning to feel the “humiliation”. The UNOPS chief is screwing up a lot of things for us here and it just pisses me off to know that person is being paid probably more than USD10,000 a month to make bad decisions like this.

Anyway, interviews were another joke to me. I had spent days “entertaining” lies and deceit. Many times, I would discover in the interviews how the applicants have lied in their CVs and some went to the extent of sending someone else for the interview. I had to answer to question like, “I need to go to Kabul on my interview date, may I send my brother for the interview instead?” This kind of question is a potential threat to one’s mental health.

Some classic examples which would probably send most of you in stitches or even incredulity are as below:

…to be continued in Part IX…..