Tuesday, May 01, 2007

4/30/07 Colin's third day....





4/30/07
The past two days have been a great introduction to the work that my mom really does here. Having grown up with my mother’s work surrounding me, I learned to insulate myself from the depressing details of her world. From the work that she used to do with youth at risk and welfare women, to homeless and mentally ill; I think I actually became habituated to the myriad of problems that people face. There’s always been someone that needs her help more than I do. From a very early age I had to share my mother’s attention with a lot of other people, sometimes feeling that her priorities lay in helping others more than her own family. This is truly not the case, but it’s hard to feel differently when you are young and cannot see the whole picture. I’ve always recognized that she does great work, and it is born of a profound dedication to improving the lives of those surrounding her. However, I don’t know that I have ever felt more proud of my mother than I did today. But I’ll get to that a little later.
Yesterday morning we went to the Marastoon compound where PARSA is located. I’d been there previously, but as it was a holiday, there was no work being done. I met the Afghans that comprise her core staff, Yasin, the country director for PARSA I had already met, and I like very much. He is intelligent, dedicated to his people, loves my mother as his mentor and is practically a family member. Palwasha, is an afghan woman who is Yasin’s “right hand man” and seems incredibly intelligent and competent. There are many others that I met, and I like them all. She has a staff of about 81 at PARSA. cooks, drivers, and gardeners included, beyond their many different project managers. She has essentially created an Afghan version of Washington Works, an organization that she founded back in the 1990’s that dealt primarily with female welfare recipients, but as necessary in this environment takes an even more holistic approach to the problems of poverty. I really do think it will be a remarkable organization.
I had a short Farsi/dari lesson with a young man that I think just graduated from high school, and am starting to get a hold of the basics that one needs to get around in a country; greetings, numbers etc.. I’ll have several more the next few days, and would like to continue to learn. It’s not actually that hard of a language to learn, and in many ways my understanding of Spanish is helpful, especially because of similarities in syntax. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it isn’t as bad as trying to learn something like Japanese or some African tribal language.
After this lesson I went up to the orphanage that is in the same compound and further formulated a plan I have for building a new playfield for the children. My first night in the country we went to the compound and in wandering around we came across the “soccer field” that the children use. It has no goals, is covered in large rocks, not even close to level and has holes and trenches all around it. I decided that wouldn’t do, and I asked Yasin to help me talk to some people about what it would take to make a proper soccer field. Labor is cheap here, it costs about 4 dollar a day to hire a good laborer, so I decided that I could probably afford the costs of the project. I talked to the head gardener at PARSA, and he is finding me a man with a bulldozer to do the initial leveling (at the whopping rate of 8 dollars an hour), and then a few other men to finish picking out rocks and smoothing out the dirt. I have no illusions that grass will take hold, let alone survive the dry summer months, so I’ll be happy with just smooth dirt. I’m then hiring a metal worker to make some movable goals and will try to find some sort of netting (might be difficult, but I’ll find something). Things are moving quickly on the project, and they will start bulldozing tomorrow, the field should be smooth by the end of the week. I haven’t told the children what I’m doing yet, but I’m sure they’ll love not having to play soccer on hard rocks in bare feet. Real goals in place of the stacked rocks presently in use will be a novelty I’m sure. I know its not really much in the scheme of things, and there might be more pressing needs, but this was something I could do for the children that I understand and feel competent to take on as a project. It’s also something that I can afford to fund myself, and can see to completion in my short month here. I might try and get some equipment donated by some companies back home, but even if I don’t, they’ll be able to make use of the field for a lot of different games beyond just soccer, and they won’t ruin their bare feet on the rocks. Hopefully it’ll turn out how I have envisioned it. We’ll see, this is my first attempt at getting something important done in the Third World, and there are bound to be hang ups, but its’ simple enough that it’ll probably turn out just fine. I’ll go rake the whole damn thing myself if I have to.
In the afternoon I went shopping and ran some errands around town with mom and Aziz (her favorite and best driver), who doesn’t speak a lick of English but seems to take great care of my mother. I like him a lot and trust him to watch out for us. The drivers for PARSA are all trained to be on the look out for bad situations and kidnapping attempts, and what to do in the case of the latter (i.e. If s someone tries to block you in from the front and the back, get the hell out, regardless of the damage to cars, buildings or anything else). It is truly worth having good drivers that you can trust around here, they keep you out of trouble and could possibly save your life.
We had dinner that evening with Yasin, his second wife Salia, her brother Asef (who speaks a little English and I am coming to like very much), Dawn (mom’s childhood friend from her time in Kabul) and her husband Jim. It was enjoyable, and I love the Afghan family that Mom and Norm have created for themselves.
Today we had a very important meeting to attend at the ministry regarding a report that mom put out regarding appalling conditions found at a local Kabul orphanage run by the afghan government. Mom had written an unofficial report on the conditions of the Alluhoddin orphanage that PARSA staff and she had witnessed this winter when they were allowed access to the compound. The offenses are extensive, but I will touch on a few of the highlights. There were children running around with sandals and no socks, clothes falling apart and threadbare in the winter. Children would be given money for bathing and then have it taken away, there were boys that hadn’t been allowed to bathe for 3 months. In one instance, it was brought to the attention of orphanage staff that a girl had lice; she was slapped on the head and sent to have her hair shaved off. The girls have no access to feminine hygiene products and are not even taught about the change that occurs as they grow older. In one instance a girl was seen berated for hiding rags. There is inadequate staffing. Often the children were found with no adult supervision on the premise and these are hundreds of children. There was no female staff member set up to stay with the girls at night, just think of the terrible abuses that could occur in this scenario.
I could go on for quite a bit longer, but I think the picture has been painted adequately. The meeting with the ministry of social affairs in charge of orphanages had been forced by pressure my mother garnered from international and domestic NGO’s, by the circulation of her unofficial report. This had brought out other anecdotes from other organizations that had witnessed similar problems in orphanages throughout the country, and at least 7 different organizations representatives were present. The presiding ministry representative was the deputy minister of social affairs, previously the minister of martyred and disabled, until a merger brought him under the control of another man. I think he’s of a slime ball that is only interested in preserving his position of power.
The meeting started off fairly well, with my mother and Mabouba (her work partner here) presenting their findings to those present, and calling for an investigation into the conditions of the orphanages of Afghanistan. Their request was simple. They did not want anything to come out of the meeting other than a formation of a committee of NGO representatives that will oversee an official investigation into the matter, and design policies that will bring about systemic, long lasting changes for the sake of the children affected. They did not try to defend the veracity of the report, even under questioning by several of the people present (most likely implants by the minister), but stood by their simple request for an investigation, and then action based on the official report. Several other NGO representatives voiced their support of this initiative and it appeared that the meeting would be concluded successfully.
Then what we feared would happen, did. The minister said that he had formed a committee of 5 different NGO's to oversee an investigation (good). However, he then launched into an extensive defense of the work done by the ministry and the conditions of the Allahoudin orphanage. He slammed the report my mother had presented, as well as her organization. He said that as PARSA had only been allowed a month and a half of official access to the orphanage, the entirety of the report should not be taken into consideration, only those allegations pertaining to that time period. He made claims to refute the report presented. He made such claims of a 1:2 staff to child ratio (bullshit!), and that the lack of female attendants overnight was a cultural problem that could not be solved (women are not allowed to live on their own away from either their husband or a male member of their family). This last claim especially demonstrates a lack of true interest in solving the problems and making changes. For example, I’m sure there would be no lack of international volunteers to help little orphan girls for a few months at a time, or a family could be living on the compound so that a woman would always be present at night. It was apparent to me that the minister was trying very hard to save face in front of the international NGO's, but I believe that in the process harmed his reputation with them (I hope). The request was simple, have an official investigation on the problems that not only PARSA, but many other organizations had witnessed and could attest to. The meeting did not need to go in the direction that the minister took it. The man went on and on about how much had been done already, defending his position and the actions that had been taken so far. As far as PARSA and the other NGO's were concerned none of this matters, if the orphanages are not running well, something needs to be done to change it. End of story! My mother was
After, listening to this monologue for about 20 minutes, my mother found her chance, stood up, and addressed the meeting one last time. She thanked the minister for the formation of the committee, said she expected the ministry to follow up on their promise to initiate changes based on the official investigation and the committee’s recommendations. She said that now the discussion had turned defensive and she was done with it. The PARSA staff then got up and walked out of the meeting. Mom was not interested in listening to a bullshit defense, nor was she going to listen to someone slam her organization’s integrity.
As I walked out with my mother, I couldn’t help but feel immensely proud. She has such presence and courage in front of people. She is a great speaker and is not afraid to take a stand on important issues, even under very adverse circumstances. I gained even more respect for her than I already had. She takes on so many projects and issues and always puts everything she has into her work. It’s been so long since I’ve really seen her in action. Having grown up watching her work (she never was into day care for my brother and I so we were drug around with her for years), I think I forgot how great she is at what she does. She is absolutely my hero.
It is unclear whether the minister we met with will really bring about any substantial change, however at least what my mother wanted will happen. There will be an investigative committee on the conditions of the orphanages. Hopefully there will be a policy of minimum standards made and followed through with. Mom has her doubts, but we shall see.
Later that evening Mabouba and her husband Hassan came over for dinner. I made fresh pasta salad and cooked hot dogs (sort of). It was explained to me that Hassan was once a Mujahadeen general. He was in charge of 4 or 5 major generals, had thousands of fighters under his command and was responsible for kicking the Russians out of Jalalabad during the Afghan-Russian war. He is revered as a hero and practically a saint given his family background. He is a soft-spoken, unassuming man whom I like very much. When asked about his experiences he merely said that he never wanted to be a soldier, but his country needed him. He doesn’t really talk much about his experiences. Once the fighting dissolved into Afghans fighting Afghans he left the country for America, just recently having returned.
The day was a good one, especially seeing my mom in action here. I was so proud of her, at several points throughout the meeting at the ministry that I was almost moved to tears. The world is a better place for my mother’s presence.

Saturday, April 28, 2007



Journal entries from Afghanistan

4/25/07
So I’m sitting here in the Seattle Tacoma airport. Just got through check in and security. Now I have 2 hours to wait until my flight. Excessive security measures require 3 hours advance arrival for international flights. I got through check-in and security within 30 minutes.
As I look around me at all the other international travelers enjoying a cocktail before their flight, I can’t help but ask myself, “ are they going somewhere as crazy as I am? “ In most cases no! As I’m riding a British Airways flight most of them are probably going to a destination in Europe somewhere, though Africa and Asia aren’t out of the question. Who is going to the Middle East? Not many Americans that’s for sure.
Am I crazy? Why am I going to a place where Americans are openly disdained? Is it going to be as bad as it seems it would be? The reactions of people that I told I was going to go to Afghanistan were exactly what I would have predicted given the portrayal of the war on terror by American media. An incredulous “why?” was the overwhelming response to the statement. My sarcastic retort: “for vacation!”. Which of course brought even further incredulity.
Why? What a great question. Superficially this is a trip to visit my mother. Granted I do really miss my mother, but there is a whole host of other reasons that are a little closer to the truth of the matter. I was always able to resist my mom’s attempts at luring me out to Afghanistan in the past. However it is really the change in my own self that is allowing me the courage to undertake what will likely be the most challenging travel I’ve ever undergone. The past year of my life I’ve undergone a transformation of self that I feel has left me in the right spot to take this trip. There are things I want to prove to myself that this trip will allow. I truly love other cultures, people, and ways of life. In past travels I have found myself feeling homesick for the “good ole US of A” . This was more likely a function of missing loved ones back home than missing the way of life. This time I have no girlfriends back home waiting for me, nothing other than my wonderful family, which is always there. My girlfriend is actually in Japan right now, starting her own adventure, while I start mine.
What freedom! To take off and leave the country for two months without a thought to what is left behind. This is a wonderful feeling of independence and self direction. I’ve never really had this before, and it excites me.
I want to talk for a bit about the reactions and impressions of “my fellow Americans” upon hearing that I was going to Afghanistan. While in Montana I received the typical conservative American response. “Don’t get your head cut off by a terrorist” was pretty common, or “I’ll see you on CNN” was another good one. It was rare to hear anything other than a “you’re crazy” type of response. The idea that an American would go to Afghanistan for any reason other than military engagement was unreal to them. Most Americans these days see a middle eastern man and have a gut reaction of distrust. Although understandable given our history, its too much a “black and white” distinction, which Americans have become good at as of late. Most Americans believe that all middle eastern muslims hate America. Is this true? I think I know the answer to this question but would like to verify it with my own experiences. I’d like to compare the ideas Americans have of the region, people, and religion; impressions influenced by the intense media coverage on the matter as of late; to the facts on the ground in Afghanistan.
Are there differences between what is being portrayed here and the realities of the conflict? If there are then, is there a motive behind this or is it just reactionary? Is there true design behind the propaganda or is it just a function of fear run wild? Fear has caused terrible scenarios in the past. Consider the average German during WWII-did they all hate Jews? Probably not, but why would they let such horrible things happen under their noses? Fear. When a leader learns to wield fear upon his populace, he can get almost anything to seem reasonable. It is a tool that has been used and abused in the past. Is 21st century America a case of this? I hope not but fear it to be true.
So off I go, with lofty ideas and questions in my head, to one of the few places in the world where I probably shouldn’t go. Oh well, you only live once. Right?





My arrival in Kabul-Colin






















4/28/07

Wow, I’m here! I was picked up yesterday afternoon from the wonderful Kabul airport by mom and Norm after 40 hours of some of the most grueling air travel I’ve ever experienced. Everything went fairly smoothly, no real problems surprisingly enough. Dubai was an interesting experience. I had originally been told by my mother and Mahbouba that I could check my bags all the way through to Kabul, however that was not the case. I had to claim my bags and transfer them to a second terminal to check them into my Kam Air flight to Kabul. I wanted to stay in the main terminal as long as I could, yet as I got shuffled through the system at the airport I found my self with bags on a trolley outside of the airport. I tried to get back in, and had been told by a few people that I could check my bags through at the international terminal and then go over to the other terminal closer to my departure time. I eventually, through many different communication attempts with tall Arab men in all white, found that this was not the case and that furthermore, I had to take a taxi (no free shuttle) to the other terminal. I couldn’t get back into the main part of the terminal, which is actually very nice with lots to do, because I didn’t have a departure ticket from that terminal. With nothing else to do, I got a taxi and went to the second terminal, went through security, only to find that I couldn’t check into my flight for another 5 hours. So I was stuck in this area next to the check in booths that had no facilities or services (no toilets!), and couldn’t go back out to the toilets or the one snack bar available, because the security guards didn’t want the hassle of checking my bags again (there were 8 of them sitting around with nothing to do, but for some reason this would have caused great problems). I had no options but to post up and try and sleep sitting, with my head resting on my luggage. Didn’t happen. Now I should remind you that I had just completed 17 hours of flight and had been awake for more than 24 hours by this point.
I met two Afghan Canadians returning to Kabul for the first time since they had fled the violence 20 years previously. These men were more nervous about going to Afghanistan than I was, and they spoke the language and blend in. They couldn’t believe I was going, and were very concerned for me. They advised me not to leave Kabul for any reason. They were very nice, and I eventually felt safe enough to leave them watching my luggage while I went outside security to get some water and go to the restroom. By 5 am I was able to check in, go through more security, and get to the departures section of the terminal where I could buy some food, use the restroom and relax for another 3 hours until my flight left.
While waiting to depart I met a man working for NATO in Kabul. He had been in the country for 4 months and lived in the main international area where most foreigners spend all of their time. Much different than how mom and Norm go about things. He also seemed amazed that I was going for “vacation” and also advised me not to leave Kabul. He said that most of the country was fine, but there were certainly “no go” areas for westerners. It was the random acts that could happen anytime, anywhere to watch for (hard to do when their random). This man was very nice, and he talked me through the Kabul arrival, so that it would go smoothly. I just followed him when I got off the plane in Kabul, and was able to get through the various steps smoothly and efficiently (as much as possible in a dimly lit baggage claim with Afghans running around all over the place, and most foreigners not having a clue what to do. I passed through one last security screening as I left the airport (What’s the point?) and found mom and Norm waiting by the parking lot. Everything was less hectic than I had imagined it. Way easier than getting through the Addis Ababa airport in Ethiopia. I was not accosted by people trying to carry my bags for me or get me a taxi, which was a pleasant surprise.
I was so excited to see mom and Norm, and I could tell mom was relieved to have me there safe. We drove the “scenic route” to my parents compound in the Karte Se neighborhood, and I got to see Kabul for the first time.
Oh the smells of the third world. It is always the first, thing I notice, even as I step off of the plane in a country like this. Dust, burning garbage, kerosene, dirty fuel burning cars, uncensored male body odor, open sewers and the occasional wafting of cheap cologne/perfume. This menagerie assaults someone from the developed world, as we are unaccustomed to the quantity and intensity of smells in our sterile lives.
We got to my parents house, which is very nice and comfortable, with oriental rugs and handmade fabrics all over place. They have collected some beautiful hand carved wood furniture that would probably cost a fortune in the states, but is quite affordable here. The garden is started and promises to be a nice little green sanctuary later this summer. Their animals are many, and the politics are intense, yet they provide endless entertainment.
We went to the Marastoon compound where the new Parsa office is about to open. It promises to be quite the organization. I met Yasin, his second wife Salia and their son Osmond, along with Salia’s brother Assef. They are wonderful people that I immediately felt comfortable with. We toured the whole compound and met some of the orphans out playing. They are very curious about me, but on the whole, polite and respectful. I saw their football field, covered in rocks, and not level at all, with piles of stones as goal posts. Most of them run around in bare feet. I talked with Yasin about finding someone work the field until its smooth and well graded, and am going
to have some real goals built. This will be my little contribution to the compound. Their gardener costs only 4 dollars a day to hire, so I think that for the price of about $50 I can get them a nice place to play football. Under Taliban rule there was no playing allowed by children, so there are not many playfields in Kabul.
We had a wonderful little meal at the compound of chicken tandoor, rice and some sort of spinach dish, with fresh watermelon and bananas as desert. Yasin’s son Osemond ran around all over the place, but as typical of Afghan families was included in everything. I think I will like Afghanistan. It is truly different than Africa, I feel less foreign here, less out of place, less of an object to be stared at. Afghans seem truly friendly and hospitable, at least the ones that I have met so far. I’m happy to be here, and look forward to seeing more of Kabul and the outer provinces. It is truly an amazing country.

My son Colin-begins his journal and his journey.


Journal entries from Afghanistan

4/25/07
So I’m sitting here in the Seattle Tacoma airport. Just got through check in and security. Now I have 2 hours to wait until my flight. Excessive security measures require 3 hours advance arrival for international flights. I got through check-in and security within 30 minutes.
As I look around me at all the other international travelers enjoying a cocktail before their flight, I can’t help but ask myself, “ are they going somewhere as crazy as I am? “ In most cases no! As I’m riding a British Airways flight most of them are probably going to a destination in Europe somewhere, though Africa and Asia aren’t out of the question. Who is going to the Middle East? Not many Americans that’s for sure.
Am I crazy? Why am I going to a place where Americans are openly disdained? Is it going to be as bad as it seems it would be? The reactions of people that I told I was going to go to Afghanistan were exactly what I would have predicted given the portrayal of the war on terror by American media. An incredulous “why?” was the overwhelming response to the statement. My sarcastic retort: “for vacation!”. Which of course brought even further incredulity.
Why? What a great question. Superficially this is a trip to visit my mother. Granted I do really miss my mother, but there is a whole host of other reasons that are a little closer to the truth of the matter. I was always able to resist my mom’s attempts at luring me out to Afghanistan in the past. However it is really the change in my own self that is allowing me the courage to undertake what will likely be the most challenging travel I’ve ever undergone. The past year of my life I’ve undergone a transformation of self that I feel has left me in the right spot to take this trip. There are things I want to prove to myself that this trip will allow. I truly love other cultures, people, and ways of life. In past travels I have found myself feeling homesick for the “good ole US of A” . This was more likely a function of missing loved ones back home than missing the way of life. This time I have no girlfriends back home waiting for me, nothing other than my wonderful family, which is always there. My girlfriend is actually in Japan right now, starting her own adventure, while I start mine.
What freedom! To take off and leave the country for two months without a thought to what is left behind. This is a wonderful feeling of independence and self direction. I’ve never really had this before, and it excites me.
I want to talk for a bit about the reactions and impressions of “my fellow Americans” upon hearing that I was going to Afghanistan. While in Montana I received the typical conservative American response. “Don’t get your head cut off by a terrorist” was pretty common, or “I’ll see you on CNN” was another good one. It was rare to hear anything other than a “you’re crazy” type of response. The idea that an American would go to Afghanistan for any reason other than military engagement was unreal to them. Most Americans these days see a middle eastern man and have a gut reaction of distrust. Although understandable given our history, its too much a “black and white” distinction, which Americans have become good at as of late. Most Americans believe that all middle eastern muslims hate America. Is this true? I think I know the answer to this question but would like to verify it with my own experiences. I’d like to compare the ideas Americans have of the region, people, and religion; impressions influenced by the intense media coverage on the matter as of late; to the facts on the ground in Afghanistan.
Are there differences between what is being portrayed here and the realities of the conflict? If there are then, is there a motive behind this or is it just reactionary? Is there true design behind the propaganda or is it just a function of fear run wild? Fear has caused terrible scenarios in the past. Consider the average German during WWII-did they all hate Jews? Probably not, but why would they let such horrible things happen under their noses? Fear. When a leader learns to wield fear upon his populace, he can get almost anything to seem reasonable. It is a tool that has been used and abused in the past. Is 21st century America a case of this? I hope not but fear it to be true.
So off I go, with lofty ideas and questions in my head, to one of the few places in the world where I probably shouldn’t go. Oh well, you only live once. Right?

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Afghan Spirit...images from my trip into Pakistan





I just returned from a great trip to Pakistan with Mahbouba, her husband Hassan, and Ariane-all Afghan Americans with deep family roots in Afghanistan. Here are some whimsical images...I keep trying to find ways to express how funny, whimsical, creative and unexpected the Afghans are and I am getting some good pictures. We traveled down through Jalalabad, spending the night in Hassan's family estate...warm air and orange blossoms-palm trees. Onto the Khyber Pass and through hellishly chaotic border crossing...the austere looking gentleman owns the peacocks and he coaxed the male into showing his beautiful tail. Afghans love birds and this man was incredibly gentle with his birds and animals. The Afghan gentleman in the beautiful Russian scarf turban was on the border...homeless, hungry, slightly mad but happy in spirit and he had an amazingly stylish flair in his dress....the hard part about understanding the Afghan's and their plight is that there is really nothing pathetic about them. When we visited a model orphanage in Rawalpindi, the director commented about the difference between local cultures during the earthquake crisis and how many, many communities used the crisis as an opportunity to get as much in the way of services and money as possible...but the Pushtuns invoved that lived on the Afghan/Pakistan border were proud, gracious and they were barely willing to accept basic help from the donor agencies. She had utmost respect for the Afghans...the photo of the truck and mountain is the exact border crossing.


Monday, March 26, 2007

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Happy New Year-1386
























This is a picture out of our bedroom window of our neighbor exercising his pigeons-I supppose Afghans have been exercising their pigeons off the rooftops in Afghanistan ever since Kabul began.

Norm and I have had a heavenly two days of quiet...a luxury for westerners here...something that Afghans have difficulty understanding as their idea of heaven is a room full of relatives-eating and chatting. For the new year, we recieved "Seven Fruits" as a gift from our Yasin and Salia, and ventured out in the streets to find a hill to walk but the streets were filled with Afghans trying to find a place to picnic. Traffic being rated as the highest stressor here in Kabul (by Afghans) above suicide bombers.

My son is getting ready to come and visit me-my mother is extremely nervous and it seems that the airwaves are full of dire stories of the disentegration and chaos here....as usual not the whole picture or even part of the picture. In fact, as far as I am concerned it is all old news and the upheaval was anticipated and is being addressed. American media has not lost their ability to promulgate fear, hopelessness and the sense that nothing we do makes a difference-a view of the world I do not subscribe to.

I will stand corrected if the predicted "spring offensive" materializes and impacts us...the conditions do not seem much different from when I started coming to Afghanistan-but Afghans-at least in Kabul are getting on with life. Especially as our hard winter relents and is turning into spring. Maybe it is just our two year mark and we are used to exercising caution and living with it but we feel like peace has taken root and is imminent.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

An “Afghan Women’s Walking Dog” ..the daughter of a “fighting dog”….

My dog, ChooChay (little one) has been with us a year and a half…I take her for a walk periodically and I am unlucky if I do it when the high school gets out. I am just fluent enough in Dari to understand the casual comments obnoxious, high spirited school boys make about me and my dog….dogs in Afghanistan are feared, persecuted, admired and I always raise comment when I walk her. Afghans have what are called “fighting dogs” or “Sahgee-Jangee” that are expensive and magnificent. We have one around the corner that stands almost to my chest-who waltzes out for his walk with his fierce Pushtun owner in smart red boots. They are bred for fighting and having one is quite fashionable as well as speaks well for ones courage. Pictured here is “Palang”
or Tiger –a fighting dog we encountered on our walk today.
One day on a walk with my Choochay, a couple of neighborhood high school boys saw her and sniggered in an offensive way. I was just irritable enough to turn on them and ask them what they were looking at…..”Your dog, it is a bad dog” they commented.
“Why do you say that? I asked.
“Well she has no chest, and is not big enough to win a fight. She is a small poor example of a dog”.
“Oh” I answered.” But you are mistaken. She is not a fighting dog. Men do not even have permission to walk her….in fact, she is an “Afghan Women’s Walking Dog”.
They looked at Choochay with astonishment having never conceived of such a dog, or in fact of Afghan women ever walking dogs.
“She protects me.” I said smugly.
“Oh!” they said " in this case she is a very beautiful dog…and it is right that she is with you…”
I could hear them as they walked away...agreeing that an Afghan Women's Walking Dog is an imminently sensible idea-if you could get an Afghan women to agree to get near a dog enough to walk with one.

This success in establishing the usefulness and beauty of my dog in the neighbor boys eyes has gone to my head....I am now dead bent on getting some henna so I can dip her paws and make them red…the ultimate sign of regard for a dog…after red boots.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

I am home...

Sunrise on the Paghman mountains. I have arrived to subzero temperatures-an ice block for a house with our water tanks completely frozen...and no husband. He is in the states trying to get an Afghan visa...a mystifying process with an indefinite time line. Glad to be home though and animals happy to see me.
webhosting
webhosting

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

My home in Kabul-One and 1/2 years...





I have left Kabul for home and finally time to update my journal. At over the year and 1/2 mark Norm and I marvel at our adjustments and we finally feel at home. A lot of questions from friends...security? The current situation was all predicted by experts at the time we initiated the Iraq war. I have a great faith in the Afghan people and in fact my own. The unfairness of behind medias focus on the war is that it paints a one-dimensional picture of a very complex country and serves to make the rest of the world feel that Afghanistan is a lost cause and not worth investment. I feel that there is little good in trying to predict the future...only work to focus on at hand.

Currently, I feel most at risk from Kabul's electricians and "Wanna be" electricians such as our operations manager, Gulam Ali. Dawn recently had an unpleasant shock when she tried to take a shower one morning and the electric current passed through the shower water from one of Gulam's (our operation manager) fixes. His three day electrical revamp of our home resulted in the destruction of our entire city blocks power access. I love Gulam but I am now prohibiting him from even changing light bulbs now. He is the master of resourcefulness, short cuts and low cost electircal fixes....I am retiring him in this capacity. I consider it a serious security measure.

I love my home. It was built in the 1940's from adobe mud and with beautiful wood ceilings. Aisha- our head widow in our sewing room and designer has helped me furnish it with Afghan style furniture (floor pillows). Immediate peace for me when I walk in my door.

Friday, June 09, 2006

After a long silence...

Dear folks,
I am sorry for the long silence-especially during such an eventful couple of months. We have moved and I don't have access to internet in the evenings which is when I was able to keep up my journal. Norm and I leave for the US in three days and I will have time to catch up before we head back here. Dates for US are June 16th through July 12th and I will be staying at our home at Harper. Take care. M

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Farsi Lessons...

With the signing of our new contracts and plans for an extended stay we have hired a "farsi" teacher to give us intensive lessons at home. 21 year old- Rahmad Ali, is enthusiastic, loves teaching and loves us. "Mature" people being revered in this culture he angles for more time and dinner when ever he can. He shouts his lessons at us as if in a room of 50 students, cracks corny jokes and admonishes us to practice and study. After a couple of three hour lessons where Norm and I found ourselves chanting our verb conjugations in unison using the traditional Afghan rote method of learning I managed to organize our lessons around two principles. I will never study so make use of the time with me. And If I am thinking about what I am doing and I am creative I will remember the lesson. Rahmad was gracious and organized the lessons differently and then was astonished at how much we retained.

Norm is learning very fast but I had enough pidgeon-farsi to get along so I am struggling to relinguish what I know and relearn. Norm has the grammar and order of sentences much better. I have learned enough to be dangerous. After I greeted Mahbouba saying "May you never be alive"....informed her that I was going to "Buy Mr. Atoi..." and that "Women Parliamentarians play cards with the people of Afghanistan" She has forbidden me to use my farsi until I am more versed in it-especially given the high profile work we are doing. I am allowed to say "Salam" and "Khoh" (good) in public settings. However, I still have my good comprehension and I can understand most of what is going on around me-even to the point that I heard two little boys plotting to set off a fire cracker under a poor, sleeping dog and I was able to shame them and chase them off.
I am however, highly motivated to learn now, as Mahbouba is finding too much humor in my mangled attempts to speak.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Sorry for such a long silence...




Well, for a while here it seems that all I have to report on is puppy's and plumbing. Norm and I have news about our work which I will start updating you on my other blog "Working in Afghanistan". Our plumbing is working now after two more weeks of mishaps. And we have all puppies adopted but two puppies still living with us..."Patu Puppy" with the fetching Afghan coat that the girls at PARSA made her and a little tiny girl I rescued last week-abandoned by mother-shivering in a depression in the street. We call her "Pookie Bear" and all love her. Yasin has claimed her for her own but she stays with us until thursday. She is smaller than our kitten,Pee Shue Gak, who has had baby dog in a headlock every chance she can get. I am delighted to say that I have connected up with the woman who runs "Tigger House" and we are going to start puppy rescue in April so I will be moving that story onto my "Working in Afghanistan" page....more later.

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

More on "Pelumbing"



Not taking my own advice....I decided that we would once and for all handle our plumbing. We began marathon negotiations with the landlord, requiring tricky strategies and counter strategies as to who would pay what. We engaged "our" plumber who came highly recommended. And we started. Two days later, our carpet which has been liberally soaked in water during the renovation of our plumbing is ruined....Our weekend was spent in companionship with the plumber and his tools, dogs and cats stealing his plumbers "hair" that he wraps pipes with-Gulam Ali who is in charge of all jobs to do with fixing things, proudly showed us how the upstairs bathroom worked spraying the sprayer and turning all of the knobs. It was an electricity night and I went to bed with the notion that I would be able to hop in the shower and wash for the first time since I can remember-instead of heating my water by wood, pouring it into the bathtub-adding cold and sitting in two inches of tepid water-a 1/2 hour operation.

The next morning-the lever broke on the shower handle-no cold water and the toilet seat was hanging by a thread. That day Mahbouba cautiously asked if any bathroom was operational-tentatively ventured in and came out laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks-as 4 days into it the bathroom light gave her a shock, the toilet seat came apart and when she went to wash her hands the water just funneled onto the floor. This display apparently hurt their feelings so they redoubled their efforts to please and Norm says the bathroom looks like the inside of a submarine.

The staff are very sensitive to our mood and by noon, when I couldn't wash my hands or find a bathroom to use- and lunch was late for some unknown reason-I was having a "get me on any plane-even to Moscow but just get me out of here!" day...The staff started to feel insecure and want to make sure we are happy. And they began rearranging our stuff with new heights of creativity, effort and resourcefulness. Both Gulam Ali and our housekeeper, Aisha competed for the honor of pleasing my eye refreshing our house with little arrangements-Making me crazy...The plumbers of Afghanistan are a secret weapon...I am convinced.







 
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