Office Work

It is the end of my day, and I reflect on all the happenings today. Most special was the e-mail I received from one of the Afghan employees from Kabul (an NLA – National Legal Adviser). I am helping him improve his English language in his writing. “My dear teacher,” he began. I have to tell you that was a first. None of my students has EVER called me a dear teacher. Most of them, I’m sure, call me names, but “dear” cannot be one of the adjectives used with those names. I think I probably looked like that cartoon of Snoopy when he’s happy and jumping in the air, his ears flapping with joy. I think I helped Farmaz with his sentence construction, and I gave him a three-sentence lecture regarding the use of semi-colons, which David Wuellner says is the smartest punctuation mark. I agree.

I also devised a set of instructions for all the heads of the regional teams to help them insert photos into the weekly reports they must write (and I must edit and correct). I was very careful to follow the instructions I give my tech writing students each semester: 1) every instruction begins with a verb; 2) each instruction should be one step only; 3) all notes should clarify or tell the audience what to expect to see or hear at the end of a step; 4) each instruction should be numbered; 5) all instructions should be divided and sub-divided for clarity; 6) instructions should include visual aids. I didn’t do the last one. The funny part of this task is that it is the time of the semester when I begin the instructions chapter – the eighth and ninth weeks. AND I have told people to use visual aids for instructions, but the truth is that I have never inserted a photo myself – until today! I found out how to do it, I did it, and I instructed other people how to do it. I was just proud of myself. I think I never have had the time to sit down and play with the bells and whistles of Word. If only I could send you pictures now! Unfortunately, I simply can’t do that. At least one of the team leaders responded to the instructions telling me that I was a good spokesperson for the Show-Me state.

Then Esman and Hasat and I talked about the differences in criminal law in the United States and Afghanistan. I was able to access the Missouri statutes and tell them about the differences in first and second degree murder, including felony murder. Their system is so much different from ours. I think I will get to go to a trial sometime soon. If the security situation here gets and remains stable, I should be able to take a trip downtown before I leave for home. That will be quite an experience. Hasat told me today about a couple of cases he saw. Both cases were to be punished with lashes. Hitting. Lashes.

One was a case of two young people who had run away and had spent a month together. They were charged with adultery and were to be judged and punished in a manner that is reflected in the religion – the had. This type punishment is outside the penal code but is mentioned in the Constitution. The judge, according to Hasat, asked the girl if she had indulged in sexual relations with the young man. She acknowledged that she had – at least three times during the month. Then the judge asked the young man, and he denied it! So instead of being lashed, which the defense had asked for, they were both thrown in jail, and the sentence for adultery is up to seven years. I asked why the judge didn’t just marry them. The reason was that she didn’t have an identification number that would have been required for them to get a marriage license. Esman and Hasat tell me that during the time the case goes to the Appellate court, the young woman could get an ID, and then they could get the marriage license, with the thought that the Appellate Court would release them on their intent to marry.

I still have a hard time understanding the criminalization of sex, but it is normal here.

The other case was of public drunkenness. The hapless group of four men, who had maybe been to a party, or who maybe were celebrating some team's latest victory, or who maybe met after work to have a few, were walking, not driving, down a street, when police suspected they might have been drinking. Now, I don't know about you, but I have never found it too difficult to determine when a group of guys has been drinking, especially if they have been drinking enough to make the police look at them. They were all arrested, and all appeared in court, where they were convicted of being drunk in public. Each was sentenced to 80 lashes, and the judge administered those lashes. Hasat and Esman assure me that the lashing is not for pain, but is for shaming purposes only. The idea, however, gives me chills, especially when I think about putting a lash in my hand to mete out punishment on the defendants in the courtroom where I am judge. I think that some of my regular defendants would cringe to see that, too! I think our system of assessing fines or jail or prison time works just fine.

Finally, Esman and I teased Hasat about the time he needs to spend with his new baby boy. The little thing woke up a couple of times last night, and I asked Hasat if he had gotten up to calm him. He laughed and said that he couldn’t calm him because the child was hungry, and only the baby’s mother could feed him. I chastised him and told him he should get up and pick up his son and comfort him, and then take his son to his wife for feeding. He told me that would take too long. At that point, Esman chimed in saying that Hasat should get up when his baby cries. We gave him a pretty hard time. I think it will be a long time before he complains about the baby’s waking up in the middle of the night! But I plan to press my point.

Another day here has closed, and that brings me one day closer to coming home for a visit, and one day closer to accomplishing what I hope to – which is achieving understanding and respect among people who live in different parts of the world with different cultures and laws and ways of looking at life. But we all share this life – the one where we live and die, we love, we hurt, we experience joy and sadness, we laugh and cry, we pray and sing, and we wake up in the middle of the night to feed and love our children.