Another Day in Kabul Town (with apologies to the Gershwins)

Today was another day in Kabul. At the end of this day, I will turn another calendar page and will be headed toward winter. By the time I come back from my home leave, I will be able to turn yet another page! I now have under 300 days to serve.

It is raining hard right now. I was talking to Emily on Skype and heard some noise and couldn’t figure out what it was. Eventually, I went out in the hall to look, because I suspected it was raining – and I was right! I know tomorrow will be colder – but I am not complaining because I know that those in the northeastern part of America have experienced cold and rain and wind – and some snow - all much worse than it is here. I think I am a day behind, but the last I heard was that at least 50 people had died in the storm. That is a terrible number and a terrible storm.

Today, I went with my team leader to a government compound building and met with another one of my team members who serves with a government agency. I had met him once before in Herat, as he team-taught a gender justice seminar to a group of Afghan lawyers.

I need to stop here and express my admiration for the Afghan people I have worked with. They are, to a person, smart, educated, and (here is the most incredible part to me) they speak their language, as well as mine. I have always thought that I should have some facility with languages – at least that is what research says: Because I am musically talented, I should do well with math and languages. So far, I have not found that to be true. I am so linguistically challenged that I remember French when I am speaking to Mexican defendants, but some minutes after the Mexican defendants have left the courtroom, I can dredge up the Spanish word for whatever the French was that came so easily. These people can listen to someone speak their language and tell me in mine what that other person is saying AS HE SAYS IT!!!

So today, my colleague was reading, in Dari (one of the Afghan languages), some legislation, and telling us, in English, what he was reading. Isn’t that something? My job was to take what he told us and write it as a synopsis for general consumption. It all worked so well together. I love work that happens like that.

Now, after that bragging, I need to tell you about traveling in Kabul. I saw no sheep today, nor did I see goats. I saw traffic as I couldn’t have imagined it. Think of being in a helicopter and looking down and seeing three highways, separated by medians of grass and trees. Now imagine that very heavy traffic on one highway was going west, very heavy traffic on another highway was going east, and very heavy traffic on the remaining highway was going both directions, but not in any given lanes. Now imagine that on the other highways, where traffic was going in only one direction, outlier vehicles were traveling against the flow of the other cars and trucks. And every now and then, add a person who lazily stepped out into the path of vehicles going as fast as possible under hideous traffic conditions. That was what I saw today.

The city itself is simply, as my mother would say, “Filthy McNasty.” Dust is everywhere, including on the leaves of trees and on rose petals. I have yet to see a clean car. It is easy to see the effects of years and years of war and conflict. Buildings look bombed out, worse for wear, and run down. Stores are embellished with signage written in peeling paint. Streets are pockmarked with huge potholes. Trash litters the streets, and I saw a police officer merely kick the trash toward a storm sewer opening (at least I think it was a storm sewer opening). Construction is stopped mid-scaffolding.

People are everywhere, cars are everywhere, the feeling is of chaos, dirt swirls around, people protect their lungs with nose masks and heavy scarves draped over their mouths, nothing seems settled. But interestingly, in the middle of what looks like some H.G. Wells movie set, we found small pocket parks, green with grass, dotted with long stemmed roses, and featuring lovely fountains. Is it any wonder that the country itself is having trouble finding its equilibrium?

I came back to the camp and did my work, had some hot tea, finished work, did about 45 minutes of yoga with some other women here who also aspire to calm, and then went to a Halloween party, where I danced with myself for about an hour (Max wasn’t here to twirl me around). The rain began, the electricity went out, I talked to Emily, Mother, and Max, and now it is time to shower and head to bed.

My overriding feeling after today is that here, amidst all this chaos, all this dirt, all this horrible traffic where the rules of the road are whatever a driver can get away with, some people are working every day to make it a better place – and I am not talking about the Americans who are here doing an honorable job. I am talking about the people who will be here when the Americans are gone – those people who want clean cars, well-maintained buildings, smooth roads, driving rules that make sense and safety, and a lawful justice system.

Tomorrow is another day!