Showing posts with label Afghanistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Afghanistan. Show all posts

Friday, February 6, 2009

Afghanistan: Guns or Butter?

February 6, 2009 Troops or infrastructure? Bullets or ballots? These questions are making the rounds in Washington and Kabul as President Obama drafts his Afghanistan policy. According to recent news reports, President Obama has decided to send 30,000 more US troops to Afghanistan and to outsource the rebuilding of the country – infrastructure, human services – to European nations. Guns or butter? How to decide?

Insecurity is the dark cloud hanging over Afghanistan, and until some semblance of security is achieved, it seems unlikely that the other pieces such as paved streets, reliable electricity, clean water, new schools, and meaningful employment that pays a living wage will fall into place.

In the time I have been in Afghanistan, I have heard Afghan bodyguards, co-workers, drivers, judges, lawyers, and law professors speak about the state of Afghanistan. There is universal agreement that Afghanistan needs help. But what is needed to restore the basics of life, not to mention human rights and the rule of law? Who can help Afghanistan? Who will help Afghanistan? Is Afghanistan a failed state?

Every Afghan I have spoken with has expressed high hopes for the presidency of Barack Obama. They believe as I do that he is an agent of hope and renewal who can fix what has broken so badly through the past decades of Soviet occupation, Taliban rule, and civil strife. But where to start?

I have had this conversation with many of my Afghan friends. Invariably, they lead with a statement on insecurity. Afghanistan is a dangerous country. Even ordinary Afghans – never mind ex-pats and foreign workers – dare not walk on the streets of Kabul for fear of kidnapping. The cost of living is high and so is unemployment. Municipal services are unreliable: roads remain unpaved, Kabul does not have dependable electricity. Girls go uneducated in provinces outside of Kabul.

The discussion on insecurity leads to a question: “What do you think of President Karzai?” Here follows an informal referendum on President Hamid Karzai: he is weak, he favors his Pashtun tribe, his brother is a drug dealer, he has allowed corruption at the highest levels of his government. Many Afghans hope that a new president will be elected in this August's election and that a new administration will turn things around. But no one seems to know who the new president might be.

The cycle is clear: insecurity breeds corruption, corruption fosters poverty, poverty robs infrastructure, depleted infrastructure deprives Afghans, deprivation breeds insecurity.

One has only to drive through the upscale neighborhoods where houses the size of cruise ships bear witness to the greed and graft that Afghans claim have robbed them of a decent quality of life. Adorned with elaborate mosaic tile designs and painted in pastel pinks, greens, and yellows, many of these houses were acquired at bargain basement prices.

A January 2, 2009 New York Times article, “Bribes Corrode Afghans’ Trust in Government,” describes these upscale, oversize houses as “poppy houses,” suggesting that they are paid for by drug trafficking. “Nowhere is the scent of corruption so strong as in the Kabul neighborhood of Sherpur,” the article states. “Before 2001, [Sherpur] was a vacant patch of hillside that overlooked the stately neighborhood of Wazir Akbar Khan. Today it is the wealthiest enclave in the country, with gaudy, grandiose mansions….” The article goes on to say that “…the plots of land on which the mansions of Sherpur stand were doled out early in the Karzai administration for prices that were a tiny fraction of what they were worth.”

“Inexplicable Wealth of Afghan Elite Sows Bitterness,” a January 12, 2009 Washington Post article, describes “Children with pinched faces beg[ging] near the mansions of a tiny elite enriched by foreign aid and official corruption.” The article continues: “It is difficult to prove, but universally believed here, that much of this new wealth is ill-gotten. There are endless tales of official corruption, illegal drug trafficking, cargo smuggling and personal pocketing of international aid funds that have created boom industries in construction, luxury imports, security and high tech communications.”

Against these odds, every day Afghans pray for an answer to their country’s huge needs. What to do?

Former U.S. Senator George McGovern proposed in a January 22, 2009 Washington Post op-ed piece that rather than “try[ing]to put Afghanistan aright with the U.S. military…” President Obama instead call a “five-year time-out on war….” McGovern suggests that “during that interval, we could work with the U.N. World Food Program, plus the overseas arms of the churches, synagogues, mosques and other volunteer agencies to provide a nutritious lunch every day for every school-age child in Afghanistan and other poor countries.”

Guns or butter? Senator McGovern chooses butter -- "food in the stomachs of hungry kids.” My Quaker faith tugs at me. I can imagine what a nutritious lunch would mean to a hungry Afghan child. And there are too many hungry children on the streets of Kabul. But then I return to the insecurity issue, and I wonder what difference a full stomach makes if you can’t walk on the streets of Kabul?

Friday, January 23, 2009

Images of Kabul

January 23, 2009 It has been two weeks since I have posted on my blog from Kabul. I have struggled to be faithful to my vow to write daily, but when the time comes to put pen to paper – or digits to keyboard – my head starts swimming with images: donkey carts, fruit peddlers, children hawking chewing gum, women in burkas sitting in the middle of the busiest streets in Kabul begging for money, Barack Obama taking the oath of office in Washington, DC, brought to me and thousands of elated Afghans courtesy of CNN.

Today is my day off – my “weekend,” as Kabul operates on a 6-day work week with Friday the designated day of rest – and I aim to catch up. I want to remember everything.

One day off per week is not enough, although at the same time, sitting around in the Guest House watching reruns of "Diagnosis, Murder" (Dick Van Dyke post-The Dick Van Dyke Show as a physician-wannabe-sleuth and an unknown bleached blond actor playing his son, the cop!) and first runs of "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style" is not that enriching. I have watched more TV here than I have ever watched at home. If I could master Hindi in a short time, I would swiftly become addicted to Bollywood serials because that is what plays on 80% of the channels on Kabul TV. These soap operas are marvelous, offering outrageous costumes, dance numbers, and outlandish makeup. I can almost follow the plot without a mastery of Hindi because the gestures are so extreme.

Since my last posting on January 8, I have had 2 weeks of Dari lessons and am now able to offer greetings to our Afghan drivers and bodyguards (who all know English, but I still want to try to converse with them in their language) and to shopkeepers. I realize that for the first week of my lessons, I was answering the “Salam aleikum”/ “How are you?” greeting coming my way with a hearty, “You are well, thank you, and so is your house.” Never mind! My learning curve is accelerating. To the warmly offered “Salam aleikum,” I now offer, “Waleikum salam, chEtor astEn?” And I receive a smile in return!

The images dancing in my head are disorderly and colorful. I have become a camera with a 360 degree lens trying to take it all in as I am always on the move in a vehicle, seldom on foot. Day to day, life between the Guest House and the office is fairly routine – if you consider coming home to Coq au Vin, Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding, and Tiramisu routine. Ali, our young Afghan cook, is a whiz in the kitchen. He cooks to the tastes of the American and Australian ex—pats who live in these quarters. We are provided lunch at the office every day, and that is an Afghan meal, most often a stewed meat, red beans, and the most amazing rice I’ve ever tasted, one day flavored with cardamom and cinnamon, the next day steamed with delicate strips of what I think is mango. Meals are always served with the local bread, Nan, which is a flat bread beyond description. I will miss my daily Nan when I leave Kabul.

Beyond daily life -- and, really, nothing is routine in Kabul – two days stand out. The first is January 17 when my colleagues and I were gathered at the 9 AM weekly staff meeting in the conference room at our office. Someone was giving a weekly report on his or her project when we heard an explosion. The noise caught everyone by surprise, even though the person speaking did not skip a beat, did not pause for a second. But the room fell silent and all eyes turned to the outside. There was no visible sign of an explosion – no smoke, no fire – but I could see that others were concerned, as was I. It was not long at all before we learned that a 22-year old suicide bomber had driven his car into a fuel tanker near Camp Eggars, the military base that houses the International Security Assistance Forces in Kabul. Casualty estimates varied, but it was reported that at least 6 Afghans and Americans were killed.

This was unbearably sad to me. All day, I thought of the families of those killed receiving the awful news. I tried to imagine living under this kind of daily threat. My Afghan colleagues seem inured to such tragedies. Since January 17, there have been other explosions and such threats loom daily. Afghans take this in stride. I do not worry and I do not feel unsafe. But my heart aches for all who have become accustomed to such violence.

The second day that stands out is Inauguration Day, a day that will forever in my heart and mind entwine Afghanistan and the United States. Inauguration Day was for me, and for my Afghan colleague Mustafa, the day that ‘democracy went to the top’ as he so eloquently put it. Afghans have high hopes that President Obama will turn his sights toward the Hindu Kush and make good on his promise to help Afghanistan. So do I.

January 20, 2009: 'The Day Barack Obama Takes His Responsibility'

January 20, 2009 It's 6:30 PM on Tuesday, January 20, 2009, and I am sitting in my room at the guest house in Kabul. I am about to get dressed to go to the Inaugural Ball at the US Embassy in Kabul. They will have a big screen TV where we will see the swearing-in of Barack Obama as President of the United States. I have been waiting for this day!I am profoundly moved by this day. I turned CNN on the minute I got home from work. Watching the sea of joyful faces on the Mall, talking to my son Alex as he made his way to the Mall with friends, Skyping with my daughter Louisa later, seeing Barack and Michelle Obama depart Blair House for the church service at St. John's Episcopal Church, I was flooded with tears of joy. I am thinking back to the faith and hard work it took to get to this day. I am filled with gratitude for all that so many did to make this day happen. I am happiest of all for Louisa and Alex. This is their history.This morning, I pinned my last Obama '08 button to my jacket as I headed for work. I told my Afghan driver, Qader, and my bodyguard, Massoud that today is a big day in America. They both smiled. Massoud said, "Obama takes his responsibility today, yes?" "Yes," I said, "today is the day. A big day for America." I took off my Obama button to show to them, and before I knew it, Qader had pinned it on his jacket and said, "Thank you. Now Obama will help Afghanistan." When he picked me up at the end of the work day, he pointed to the button and smiled. “Wear it well, Qader,” I thought. Today is a good day.

I have never been prouder of my country.

The Inaugural Ball at the US Embassy is formal, but the invitation issued a caveat: “Formal – but this is Kabul, do your best,” and so I did. I bought a beautiful lavender silk scarf and a bronze beaded shawl to wear to the party. I hope I pass muster!

It’s now 11:00 PM on Tuesday, January 20, and I am just back from the US Embassy. The party was very nice. Afghans and Americans stood side by side cheering for Obama. Women wore jeans and women wore Prom gowns. I staked out a front row spot in front of the big TV and stayed there through the whole ceremony. I was so happy. When the CNN banner on the bottom of the screen said that Obama was officially president at high noon even though he had not yet been sworn in, the entire crowd hollered. At 10:30, our driver and bodyguard came to pick up the 5 of us who went to the party. The bodyguard jumped out of the car and shook my hand. “Congratulations on President Barack Obama,” he said. I will never forget that moment.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Elementary Dari

Salaam aleikum!

My friend, Belquis, kindly provided me with a beginner's list of essential phrases in Dari so I can communicate with staff and new friends while I am in Kabul. I share it here, hoping this finds you all khoob!

Salaam aleikum Hi!
Lotfan Please
Tashakor Thank you
Chetor Asti? How are you?
Khoob Well/Good
Khoob Astum I am well
Motar Car/vehicle
Daftar Office
Naan Bread
Chai Tea
Chai-e-Sabz Green tea
Chai-e-Siah Black tea

Ashura

January 7, 2009 I am working from the guest house where I live in Kabul because our security advisor advised against going out on the streets.

Today is Ashura, a day of celebration and mourning marked by both Sunni and Shia Muslims. For Shia Muslims, Ashura is a major religious festival which commemorates the martyrdom at Karbala of Hussein, a grandson of the Prophet Mohammad.

Ashura falls on the 10th of Muharram, the first month of the Islamic lunar calendar. It is marked by Shia and Sunni Muslims with a voluntary day of fasting which commemorates the day Noah left the Ark and the day that Moses was saved from the Egyptians by God. For Shia Muslims, Ashura is a solemn day spent mourning the martyrdom of Hussein, grandson of the Prophet Mohammad, in 680 AD at Karbala in modern-day Iraq.

During Ashura, mourning rituals are observed and passion plays re-enact the martyrdom. Shia men and women dressed in black parade through the streets of Kabul slapping their chests and chanting. Some Shia men seek to emulate the suffering of Hussein by flagellating themselves with chains or cutting their foreheads until blood streams from their bodies.

Kabul, Afghanistan


January 6, 2009 In the four days since I arrived in Kabul, we've had snow and two earthquakes which woke me in the night. As my room swayed, I racked my brain to remember my Southern California childhood training. Duck and cover? No. That's in case of a nuclear bomb. Stand in a doorjamb? I think so. It didn't come to that, but it was a moment.

I feel safe. It is a new experience being accompanied everywhere by a bodyguard, but I don't go many places outside of home and work. I spent yesterday, my first day at work, at a conference of law students, law professors, lawyers, judges, government officials. All of the women wear their heads covered. Men wore Armani suits and shalwar kamiz, capes, and turbans.

Although I receive “danger pay” (term of art!) for this job, this is far from a hardship post in many respects. My meals are prepared and served to me by skilled cooks. Last night's menu: fried chicken, roast potatoes, corn, bread pudding. Hamburgers and french fries the night before. My laundry is done for me; yesterday, my old frayed flannel nightgown was returned to me IRONED! I

I cover my head when I go out. At first, it seemed novel, but after a few hours of fidgeting again and again to make my scarf stay on my head, it became a great nuisance. At the legal conference I attended at the Safi Landmark Hotel in Kabul on Saturday, January 3, I watched the few women – law students, lawyers, judges – all of them in scarves. Not one of them fussed with her scarf, and it seemed to me that every scarf stayed in place except mine.

The contrasts are enormous. Palatial homes surrounded by high walls, next door to mud homes, both on unpaved dirt streets. After yesterday’s snow, Kabul’s rutted streets were mired in mud. Our skilled drivers traverse those streets like bumper cars, twisting and turning, brushing past daring pedestrians, darting into oncoming traffic which seems to part on cue. At night, Kabul traffic is a game of Chicken, writ large.

Street sights clipping through Kabul in an armored car: butcher stalls with slabs of meat hanging in the air. Bakeries with huge loaves of Naan in the window. Produce stands with stunningly beautiful arrangements of fruits and vegetables, placed with the hand of an artist. Eggplants, okra, oranges, apples, cauliflower, pomegranates, tiny lemons, enormous Clementines, cabbage, lettuce, leeks, onions. Purple, green, red, yellow, orange. Gorgeous. Children sorting through curbside garbage in search of soda cans. Goats nibbling on what is left of the garbage. A local bus with fringed windows and “Elephant of the Road” painted in scrolling letters across the front and side.

I am happy to be here.

To the Hindu Kush


January 1, 2009 Sal-I-naw Mubarak! Happy new year! I arrived in Kabul yesterday and have barely begun to sort through impressions from the last three days traveling from DC to Dubai to Kabul. One could hardly find a greater contrast than one night in Dubai and the next day in Kabul.

Women in Dubai were chic and glamorous, even in their black chiffon hijabs which cover them from head to toe, but do not cover their faces. In Kabul, many women seen on the street are covered in heavy blue burkas with a narrow slit at the eyes; that slit is covered with a net grilling. Young women cover their heads with scarves, but often wear jeans, high heels, and nail polish.

I traveled here with my friend Belquis who was born in Kabul, moved to the US in 2001 with her parents and siblings, and now works in Kabul. We had great plans of celebrating New Year's Eve in Dubai but were told by our hotel that the Government of Dubai had canceled New Year's Eve celebrations because of the strife in Gaza. Our hotel offered several dinner packages in the various restaurants -- all too pricey, even the package that offered a meal and all the soft drinks you could consume in the restaurant and later in the bar until 3:00 AM for $300 US. We settled for room service Mezzeh and a bottle of Chilean wine.

I have only glimpsed Kabul so far on the ride to my guest house from the airport. Early images: military police with Ak-47s; roadside vendors everywhere; huge glitzy Las Vegasy buildings that serve as wedding halls (a big industry in Kabul); donkey carts vying with newish cars for one of three lanes on the highway from the airport.

The guest house I live in is 3 floors plus a basement where we eat meals. The view outside my window is of private residences, one of them enormous and pink. Our meals are prepared to American tastes by Afghan cooks. Last night's dinner was roast beef, mashed potatoes, and green beans. The house is built in an ornate Asian style with many flourishes and curlicues. A terrace on the third floor offers a beautiful view of the snow-capped mountains that surround Kabul and make it the dust bowl it is. I have a big TV in my room with cable and satellite access (yesterday, I watched Indian Idol!).We are driven everywhere in armored cars with armed bodyguards. The guest house is guarded 24/7. But I am not worried. I feel very safe. The Afghanistan Rule of Law Project where I am working has a finely-tuned security operation.

The work week in Kabul is 6 days, Saturday through Thursday. Today, Friday, is the weekend. I am eager to get out and see more of Kabul.