SARS?

(from the 24th)

Hello all!

Here it is, my last night in Afghanistan. I maybe be contracting SARS already…what expats here call “Severe Afghanistan Return Syndrome.” You come, and then you have to come back. It’s a mystery really, but I see what they’re talking about.

As I rode back through the city this evening at sunset after an afternoon with two local girls, I found myself soaking in every last sight. The sunlight pouring its haze over the mountains in the distance, the pink and green lights coming on in the nan shops, bicycling guys bumping down the street with scarves draped haphazardly over their heads. Little kids holding hands and flying kites. Street vendors selling oodles of melons. Toyotas everywhere, often highly decorated, sometimes with a sticker on the back that reads “Masha Allah,” or roughly, “God protect us!"

The past week has been a blast. It’s incredible to be part of a huge family that is spread across continents.

Earlier in the week there was an international peace conference here, which meant tighter security resulting in a public holiday. We couldn’t go out much, so it was sort of like being snowed in. Only there was no snow. So friends came over to the guest house and we had good conversation and ate together and played Taboo for quite a while. The guest house has been so quiet that it was nice to have a little group.

I’ve wondered a lot about the purpose of this trip. I still don’t have the answers, but I have confidence that it was right. I’m glad for so much time to soak up the little glimpse I’ve had into this complex country. This house has been the perfect haven, with the roof that’s cool in the evening with a view of the lights coming on in the houses on the mountainsides, the rhythm of gathering for delicious meals three times a day, the quiet room...

So at the end of that day when we had a time of singing and reflection, a little spark jumped in me suddenly at the thought that someday I could provide this same kind of haven to seekers, learners, pilgrims. Maybe people who are struggling with questions. I love the idea of meeting people coming and going from all different places. That’s something to chew on.

The pictures this time are from Babur’s Garden, Balkh-e-Babur. It’s a big, beautiful that was built up in the 1500’s by Babur, the founder of the Moghul empire. He spent a lot of time in India (His descendents built the Taj Mahal) and was originally buried there, but later they moved his remains to this garden, because that’s where he wanted to be buried. According to Wikipedia (since my Persian’s not so good) the inscription on his tomb reads:

“If there is a paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this![“

So I guess he liked his garden. And now, various levels of destruction or falling into disrepair, it’s being tended and cared for again. Roses are everywhere, flashy geraniums, cherry trees. The garden is nestled at the foot of more of those rocky mountains. Since neighborhoods are carved out of the rocks, practically, there is an impressive view both from the garden, and into the garden.

I kept wondering what that wonderful smell was, and then I realized that oh, I’m smelling green growing things! I heard that this was the greenest space in Kabul, and I believe it. Families were there having picnics, and a whole class of university students were drawing the buildings on the grounds. The white marble mosque, though pocked with bullet holes on one side, is well worth sketching.

As usual, I could fill books with all I have to say about this time…but now it’s time for bed because it’s an early start in the morning!

The Small Stuff in Afghanistan

Asalaamu Alaykum! Peace on you! It’s Friday, Holy Day. The weekend looks different here (it’s Thursday-Friday instead of Saturday-Sunday.)

I am thoroughly enjoying this trip. I’m daily impressed by how meaningful the small experiences are and what a privilege it is to be here, even if it has turned out different than I thought!

I’m getting more medical exposure than I ever bargained for. No blood and guts, but it turns out that with two doctors around I’m ending up in places like Afshar hospital, going on rounds with the residents!

They said by the end of the day they’d have me applying for medical school, but unfortunately, the main impression I took away with me was that it’s a bad idea to lock your knees while standing in a small, un-air conditioned hospital room, wrapped in a headscarf, with fifteen other people when you haven’t had anything to eat or drink recently.

Actually I managed to rally myself after a short time with my head between my knees in a welcoming hallway chair. There were some rather sick folks. I felt for them, because it’s hard to be sick no matter what, but if you have no hope in life, it’s desperate. I wished that I could talk to them more, but there really wasn’t opportunity for that.

An exciting thing I’ve had the chance to be part of is a student network that a local guy has started here. They host discussion groups at universities and at their base, which has been newly refurbished and painted to be a nice hang-out area for students off campus to freely discuss their ideas and thoughts. It’s an excellent environment.

Dr. Dilip, whom I’ve been traveling around with some, has presented a talk on Holistic Health/Leadership to four different groups now, and I’ve been at every discussion. So we’re joking that I could give the talk now if I need to!

I’ve been privileged in those discussions in some smaller discussions to get a picture of what the students think, and a little bit of what their lives are like. These are the future leaders of Afghanistan! So this is a good work, giving them stimulation to seek out what a good leader is like.

Yesterday we visited two of Morning Star’s clinics in rural areas outside of Kabul. I had been to Tangi Saidan before, but the drive to Lalander, just another fifteen minutes beyond it, took my breath away.

We whirled down a pretty decent dirt road through a narrow valley. A green stream ran through groves of fruit trees, and people in the fields cut shining heaps of hay. Ancient mud brick compounds with hidden private courtyards clustered near the road, and the steep mountains, nothing more than piles of crushed, stubborn rock, rose high on either side. Pictures don’t do justice, especially since I could only take them from the car as we jolted through the valley.

The clinics provide midwifery and basic care for the people all through the valley. The infant mortality rate is extremely high here, and sometimes the women don’t want to come to the clinic for cultural reasons. The midwife is often able to go with them.

Through these services and visits, the workers have a chance to develop relationships with the village elders, these great old fellows with their turbans, prolific beards, and traditional clothes.

So many of these folks just want to be able to live their simple, peaceful lives in the valley without fear. I long for them to be free from fear on every level.

A Kite from the Roof

As it's a little difficult to keep up with email updates, personal journaling, and my journaling experiment, as well as a blog, and since internet will be better at home, I'm probably going to wait till I get home to really blog. At that point, maybe I can do a blog "mini series" of my time here.

This is from my last email update:

Well. The days that have passed since I went to Tangi Saidan have been quiet ones! There is a lot of time to reflect and soak up this place.

My situation here is unique, since I’m not with a formal team that has a schedule or a master plan. Although I tried to prepare ahead of time, I find that now my options are limited for getting out to the village, or getting much of anywhere. However, I have been able to join other guests. So today, for instance, I get to attend a discussion group for university students…and it’s in English. It’s a group started up for students to share thoughts and ask questions. I absolutely love this idea. I’m eager to get to visit other projects that are going on, especially in nearby regions.

Actually, since arriving here, I’ve discovered a lot of purpose for this trip that has rather different than what I thought. Naturally you go with the intent to serve, and I do have that. But as plans shift like tidewaters, every day or maybe even every hour, I find myself being led into quiet times of reflection, rides around the city where I learn fascinating history, and amicable conversations with other expats. Always hovering in my mind is the question, “What could I do here?”

Apart from with delicious food, my favorite thing about the guest house is the roof that overlooks part of the city. From here I can feel the dry breeze and look out over the place where, unlike back home, I can’t freely walk down the streets in jeans and a t-shirt. I get a better appreciation for the secluded life of women here. The day is marked by five calls to prayer from the nearby mosque, and, about as often, the cheerful call of the ice cream truck. Prayer and ice cream. What more could you ask?

What strikes me about Kabul is that when they say they’re rebuilding, it’s the truth. They’re literally rebuilding what was bombed out, torn up, ripped apart by war. And for me as a youngster from a country that hasn’t seen war on its soil for over a hundred years, it’s hard to grasp. Driving around, it’s rebuilt enough that you don’t always see the evidence of war, but then someone starts telling very recent history about this building or that, and it’s startling.

Gazi stadium was one such place. I got to go there with the sports clinic team I mentioned before. What a privilege to see it! It’s Afghanistan’s biggest stadium, and it was built in the 70’s with the land around it allotted for development in hopes of becoming Olympic grounds. That hope was shattered with the attack of the Soviet Union, and the ensuing years of violence from one group or another. Some pretty gruesome things went on in the stadium a couple of years back. A hush fell over our little group as we stood there looking at the green field, listening to the sounds of birds chirping happily, the guys practicing soccer in one end of the field. They’re training for the Olympics again now. That makes me happy. It’s not all gore and sadness. Afghans are fighters, winners—and that spirit can be harnessed for good things. I’m confident of that.

I was especially privileged with a sight from the roof a few nights ago: A lone kite, suspended in the air above the city, hovering and dipping in the pale sky. I realized later that the colors were different, but from first glance far away it looked like they were the colors of the flag—black, red, and green. It was just like a scene from Kite Runner, except that the city looks different. Sorry to disappoint everybody, but apparently the movie was made in China!

I'm finding peace and joy daily. Usually these kinds of trips are like raging thunderstorms of activity and experience; this one is more like a gentle rain. And as we know, that’s when things begin to sprout and flourish.

The 4th of July in Afghanistan?

(revised from my first email update five days ago)

So. I never dreamed I’d be spending the 4th of July in Afghanistan, playing softball with Afghan girls, eating lamb kabob with mint and cilantro salad, or jerking along a dusty road with a view of the mountains around Kabul. But that’s exactly what I did today.

I arrived yesterday morning at 6 am, very excited. My hand was shaking so that I was having trouble filling out my visitor’s card at the Ministry of Interior desk.

A staffer picked me up at the airport, and we made the exciting ride through the busy, rather smoggy streets of Kabul. I spent the day getting a little orientation at the house and settling in. It’s a very homey, welcoming place, and my friends here are very gracious, to say the least. Last night I got some time chillin’ on the roof, listening to the city’s sounds, enjoying the light breeze, and watching the lights come on in the houses up the nearby mountains.

I’ve learned a lot in just the two days I’ve been here.

1. I’ve learned some Dari phrases, such as “Salaam,”“Hello,” and “Naama Chst?” “What is your name?”

2. I’ve learned that no matter how hard it is to keep your headscarf on and no matter how many things you’re looking out for at once, you have to pay enough attention that you don’t run slap bang into metal bars that appear out of nowhere.

3. I’ve learned that Duck Duck Goose is NOT child’s play at 5800 elevation when it’s 100 degrees out.

4. It would be the work of lifetimes to understand this place.

I slept well, and in the morning went along with a team of five ladies who have been having a sports clinic at the community center started by the organization I’m with. I went to observe and participate to get to know the girls a little, as I’ll probably go out there some days to help with English lessons.

What an amazing experience. I find myself standing by a garden of sunflowers surrounded 20-25 bright eyed little girls in trousers, tunics, and scarves. They’re shy at first. They already know the other team and they cling to their hands and arms, grinning, laughing. Quietly I wade in, like a cautious swimmer in new waters, and before long they’re grabbing my arm, speaking a lovely but unfortunately unintelligible string of sentences. They want affection. They want to be on my “team.” They nearly knock me out (Duck Duck Goose is challenging on multiple levels.)


It’s all a little surreal. I keep looking up at the mountains rising behind the community center building, thinking I’ve never realized that massive chunks of such dusty, desolate rock could be so majestic, and even beautiful. They seem to say, “We are Afghanistan. We are ancient. We may look desolate, but there’s nothing you can to move us.” I sense this determined hardness in the girls, even in their affectionate curiosity. But I’m very excited to be here. There’s just a “rightness” about this trip, in a lot of different ways.

Kuda Hafez (goodbye!), until I blog again...

Agh! My Google is in Arabic...and other small obervances

I only have 12 minutes before battery runs out on my dear little overheating computer, but I had to take advantage of the rest of my Dubai layover. Here I am, finishing hard-earned chicken dimsums and and a pepsi.

My Checking in process will start in about an hour, and so far things are looking pretty good in the transferring department, though there have been a few hairy moments. I'm on a major learning curve. In fact, I suspect that this may actually be a circle. I'm just going to keep going 'round. But thank heavens for 7 hour layovers. I've spent the better part of it inspecting the nooks and crannies of DBX.

I have to say that I can hold no grudge toward anyone in this airport after experiencing the free hot shower...utter bliss to aching bones. Even if I did wash my hair with body wash. And did somebody say that Dubai was dry? No, no. One trip down the sidewalk to another entrance and my hair completely poofed. Not that I care right now.

From the safety of the shower cubicle, I could here the girls and ladies trickling in and out, giggling, laughing, talking, scolding...and I felt that, yes, they are just like me, and everything is going to be okay. If I don't trip over my headscarf and strangle somewhere along the way.

Love to you all.

...end of battery life...see you in Kabul...