Congratulations, Grad!

What a wonderful day! The students graduated this morning, and I loved every minute of being there. They were happy and appreciative – even of the chicken wings (more about that later) – and were very respectful. No airhorns!

The event began as they all started arriving in the conference room, which our staff had set up earlier, and they chatted as we waited for all the dignitaries to arrive. I took pictures of our staff and of the students, and they all enjoyed, I think, having the camera in their faces. I surprised one man by taking a picture of his shoes because I knew that Max would like them. The officer who strenuously voiced his concern over victims’ as opposed to suspects’ rights, smiled when I took his picture – he had been chosen by the class as their representative.

I had done the grading, and we did acknowledge the “valedictorian” of the class. He had answered 94 of 100 questions correctly, and I was glad that we recognized his achievement. I think he was kind of nonplussed about it, though. I told him that his having the highest score didn’t surprise me at all; his questions in class were clear and pointed and always probing. He was the student who wanted to understand the relationship of state law with federal law.

Eventually, everyone arrived, including (once more, Jim, I apologize) General “Buckley,” who was about 15 minutes late. All the other dignitaries were finally seated in big chairs on the front row, and we began. Our oldest staff member, who has taught before, was the coordinator, and began the solemn program.

First, we heard the national anthem, very majestic and melodically complex, but also very singable – except no one sang! Then, we listened to the invocation, which, as I heard at the Prosecutor’s meeting on my birthday, was intoned beautifully rather than spoken. I imagine not everyone enjoys sung prayer as I do; I just love the musical lift, especially when I have no idea what the words are. Esman explained that the Koran is read aloud with tone, or, to my ears, sung. The reason for this, he told me, is that the Koran is written in very high Arabic, so that it reads like literature, and that is part of it as God’s word – the beauty of the language (as an aside, I have always loved reading the King James Version of the Bible because of the beauty and lyricism of the language). The student giving the invocation was one of my favorites – he greeted me each time I was in class with a welcoming smile.

Then began the speeches. First, the teacher on our staff spoke. He thanked all the students for their hard work and the staff for their hard work. Then the general spoke. And spoke. And spoke. He talked about the obligation of police officers to work according to the law, and how classes such as the one the students had just completed added to their professionalism and understanding of the justice system. He said a lot more, but Esman said it was his thanks for the program, staff, and hard work of the students. Then another department head spoke. He thanked everyone for their hard work and told them to be professional in their jobs and to uphold the standards required for police officers. Our team leader spoke next, and she congratulated all of the students for their hard work and their attendance. The class representative was the last speaker, and he said that everyone was glad to have finished the class and that they had learned much.

Eventually, we came around to handing out the certificates. This was a sight to behold. Each of these men was very proud to accept a framed certificate showing that he had attended and had graduated from an eight-week class regarding the law of the land. The first person called up was the man who had pronounced – sung – the invocation. He stood, stiffly, and actually goosestepped up to the front, saluted the general, and said a few sentences that he had obviously memorized for the occasion. The general kissed him on the cheek (kind of like a New York air kiss), and then he turned around, held the certificate up in front of his face to show the others, and said, “For the people of Afghanistan!” Esman translated for me, and I was touched by the officer’s dignity.

Each student who followed did something similar: came to the front of the room, saluted, was kissed on the cheek, received his certificate, and made a pronouncement to the rest of the crowd. Each of us was honored to bestow at least two certificates to its rightful owner, and wouldn’t you know the officer to whom I presented his certificate was the one who had complained so vehemently about suspects’ rights! He was also the officer who had the courage to begin our discussion of the result of the film insulting Mohammad a few weeks ago. We smiled at each other and shook hands as I presented him with his certificate.

After all the students had their certificates, they gave each of us a certificate. At the beginning of the ceremony, Hasat had asked me if I wanted my name written in Persian or English. I chose Persian, although I had no idea why he wanted to know. So I have a certificate on which my name is beautifully penned by Esman in Persian. He made a cross-through of some letters and wrote something above that, and I guessed, and he said I was right, that the certificate said “Mr.” He crossed that out and wrote “Ms.” I think the certificate says something about “in appreciation of . . .”

And after all the festivities, what comes next? Right! Food!

The camp cooking staff had made a beautiful cake and prepared a picnic-type lunch, with fresh fruit, a fresh veggie mix, homemade rolls, chicken-on-a-stick (I don’t care what anyone says – these things were NOT kabobs!), and, you guessed it, fried chicken wings, which I will not eat not matter what. Our thirteen or so students and five or so dignitaries fell on the table of food like ducks on June bugs, or like locusts, whichever mental picture you prefer. And what they didn’t eat, as soon as they were gone, our staff snarfed up as if lunch were not waiting 50 yards away. The only thing I could see, though, were piles of chicken wing bones. So regardless of what I think of wings, the kitchen knew its audience and prepared food that was mostly gone by the end of the party.

Throughout the whole thing, I watched the young men about whom I have been writing, Esman and Hasat, and all the other national staff who work in the office, and I saw that the ceremony and the party were in very good hands. All these men are young, under 30, I think, and they had the details down to a science. When one of the guest speakers began, we couldn’t hear him in the back of the room, and Esman quickly went to the front and manipulated the microphone so that the speaker’s words became audible. When it was time for the national anthem, Esman was right there with a thumb drive; he poked it in, and the music began on schedule. When each of the guests arrived, Hasat greeted him and showed him to his seat, chatting amiably with everyone, and looking pleasant and as if he knew exactly what was going on. As one speaker kept his spot at the microphone, Hasat leaned over and whispered, “He likes to talk.” And of course, it was my job to keep from laughing.

Sadiq, who is an excellent translator, stood behind me and translated in real time as the general was presenting me with my certificate and I told him that I gave all his officers a chance to argue with a judge. Sadiq said that the general said that he was exhorting (my word) the officers to follow the law so that judges like me wouldn’t throw out their cases.

All the others did their jobs so that the morning’s activities flowed smoothly. It was the first time in a long time that I was at that kind of event and wasn’t in charge. Hey, you know what? It felt pretty good to just watch – especially when the people in charge were doing everything well.

Not only did they do a great job, the guys also looked great. Each of them had on his best clothes. Esman was wearing a black velvet suit – it’s the good, heavy kind of black velvet and not what Elvis is usually painted on. Abdul had on a shiny gray sharkskin-type fabric suit; Hasat had on a brown suit and tie; our teacher had on a black suit; Sadiq had on what he calls his “winter suit,” which is a brown very fine corduroy; and our brand new daddy (his baby girl was just born, but he wanted to attend today) had on a very nice sport coat.

The only problems during the ceremony had to do with talking: first, cell phones kept going off. I had heard that from another person in the company; he had told me that he was surprised to be in meetings with heads of offices or departments, and their phones would ring – and they would answer! That happened today, too. The phone of one of the speakers went off as he was speaking, and he kept talking, reached over, took it out of his pocket, looked at it, presumably to see who was calling, and never missed a beat or a word. Additionally, when one of the speakers sat down, he began a chatty conversation with the person sitting next to him. Our staff member, the teacher, was next, and he kept waiting for the chatting to stop. Hasat whispered to me that he should go ahead, and I told him that a natural teacher just looks at the chatterers, and eventually they stop – as they did.

Other than that, though, I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of the morning. I felt as if I were at some ending ceremony at home – except that I shouldn’t have been able to understand a word that was being said. Oh, but I did.