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.