Second Letter from Afghanistan - 25 April 2008
Hi. It’s been awhile since I last wrote. Some of you got a
short letter from me shortly after I arrived in Afghanistan in late January – but
as I only sent that to family and a few friends, let me bring you all up to
date.
I finished my mission in Nepal at the end of November. I
then took a two week holiday in Cambodia (to visit the magical ruins of Siam
Reap); touched down briefly in Geneva for a workshop; spent the winter holidays
with Rox and Jess in Toronto; and went out west to visit my close friend and
old housemate, Saralea (from UCLA days) in Los Angeles – unfortunately my
step-son Nate was not there when I came; I then spent a few days in San
Francisco to visit with step-son 2, Andrew, Maia and grandson Penn; and
continued on to Seattle to see step-son 3, Matthew, Gretchen, grandson Kyle and
granddaughter Nikki. As it was more than 5 years since I was last in San Fran,
and even longer since I was in Seattle – it was a “Getting to Know You”
experience with the grandkids, who are all teenagers now – wanabee young men
and women – with lots of active hormones and even more active brain cells…. a
reunion I certainly enjoyed. I am around lots of youngish folk in the field,
but rarely teenagers.
I then went off to my next assignment in Afghanistan –
initially a six month tour – with a concentration on internal displacement.
Following on the recommendation of the
Representative of the Secretary General on the Human Rights of IDPs
(internally displaced persons), my Terms of Reference (TOR) stated that I am
seconded to UNHCR (UN High Commissioner for Refugees) to lead and help complete
a national profiling of the internally displaced in Afghanistan, help
strengthen coordination mechanisms for dealing with IDPs, and assist the
government in developing a strategy and action plan to find durable solutions
for the IDPs. The caseload is not staggering when compared with Darfur or Iraq
– about 150,000 “old IDPs” -- persons who have been displaced since 2001 (the
Taliban period) or earlier and who have been unable to return home for a
variety of reasons, ranging from security, to property disputes, to
inter-tribal or inter-personal conflict, to drought and lack of job
opportunities. Included here are Kuchi (or nomads) unable to return to their
previous nomadic life style because all their animals died and the drought of
the past 5 or 6 years has destroyed the pasture lands where they used to graze
their flocks of sheep, goats or camels. In addition, there are “new IDPs” –
persons displaced as a result of recent military engagements between ISAF or
Coalition Forces (us – the good guys) and Anti-Government Elements (AGEs) –
Taliban and/or insurgents (i.e., he baddies). There are also refugees returning
from Pakistan and Iran (in some cases, as a result of camp closures or other
measures that makes the return less than voluntary) – who are unable to go back
to their places of origin, and therefore become IDPs. The profiling is not
finished yet, and accurate numbers are difficult to get because in many areas
of the country – notably in the south, where we have the largest numbers of
IDPs – the situation is so insecure that we cannot visit the IDP settlements
and need to do everything by remote management – that is, through local NGOs
(non-governmental organizations) or local government authorities. My
guestimates are that we have more than double the original estimates, closer to
350,000 than to 150,000, but that is still a guess.
Remote management was a concept I had first come across
working on Iraq
(during my mission with UNHCR in Amman,
Jordan). It is
not the best – or most satisfying way of operating – but it is the best one can
do under the circumstances. It’s like learning to shoot your pictures through
the thick plated glass of an armored jeep, because you can’t open a window and
you can’t stop and get out to take a photograph. But you can actually get some
good photos. On that score, given how hard it is to send the photos by email, I
have posted several albums on Facebook. To go see, you go to www.facebook.com. If anyone needs help in
accessing Facebook – or finding my photos once you have – drop me a note and
I’ll help.
Since I’ve been in Afghanistan, I have visited five
different areas of the country – Herat
in the West, Kandhar in the South, Gardez in the southeast., Kunduz in the
Northeast and Mazar-i-Sharif in the North. I’ve also made a few local trips
around Kabul –
and I was able to go to the Panjser
Valley (home of the
northern Commander and national martyr, Ahmad Shah Massoud) – a spectacular
drive and where I could actually take some photos. As well, in Gardez – though
I violated our security rules – I was able to go up to the
castle/fortifications in the centre and overlooking the city, and to take a
short walk through the market. Even more spectacular was the village of Qarabator, high up in the mountains in Kunduz; and the village of Omakai in Zare district of Mazar – where
people need to go by donke.y – 4 hours there and back – to get drinkable water.
I have still not visited Bamyan – site of the destroyed Buddhas in the Central
Highlands, but I hope to do that some time in June, and Jalalabad in the South,
also a trip in the planning
Sadly, freedom of movement in the country is sharply
curtailed because of the threat of kidnappings and abductions as well as
suicide bombers. So, in too many cases, we can go just between our office and
guesthouse – and/or other MOSS (Minimum Operating Security Standards) compliant
guesthouses or compounds. In Kabul, after the bombing of the Serena Hotel
(which happened a week before I arrived, and where a UNHCR vehicle, with three
of my current colleagues inside) were trapped at the entrance, with bullets
flying around them – we could no longer go to Chicken Street or Flower Street
(where all the shops that sell carpets and jewelry and crafts are located), or
to any hotels or restaurants, or to any of the major supermarkets. We could do
point-to-point shopping, which means the armored jeep takes you to a store and
waits outside while you do your shopping and then takes you back. It is a
strange existence in which you live insulated and isolated from the people you
are there to assist.
But, you do get used to it. To the compounds that are all
behind high walls, many with barbered wire. All compounds have armed guards
(police or private security forces) and also “chokidors” – men who open the gates for you, who can fill the
bukaris (the kerosene stoves that heat the houses in the winter), who go and
get bread – the flat round or 3 feet long Afghan breads that are the staple
here. (My Iranian colleague tells me that they are undercooked in Afghanistan, by
comparison to Iran
– where they are much crisper – because it takes less wood to bake them.) We
also have, in our guesthouses, a cleaner who makes the bed, cleans the house
and your room, and does your laundry. In some guesthouses, there are also
cooks, though I prefer to do my own cooking. Fortunately, there is a corner
store, just around the corner – and I now go there on my own to get basics and
vegetables. And the restrictions have been somewhat eased. Although today –
Mujahaddin Day (celebrating the defeat of the Russians), the parade ground
where the President and other officials were speaking was mortar attacked
resulting in several deaths – though not the dignitaries – and we went into
lock-up for a few hours.
It turns out, too, now that I have been here awhile and
gotten to know my colleagues – that we have a number of gourmet cooks among us.
There is Josep from Spain who has made a superb gazpacho and chicken and
aubergine stew; there is Monica, who has taught me how to make sun-dried
tomatoes in olive oil with garlic, capers and anchovies (doesn’t sound great
but it is fantastic); Guiseppe in Hirat, who has shared his mothers recipe for
Sicilian pasta with fennel, herring and pinenuts (interestingly, you can get
fresh pinenuts here, but then you need to peel them, quite a challenge);
Barbara, who makes a walnut torte and a salad with spinach and blue cheese; and
Ann, who turns out brownies and oatmeal cookies, that have done my waistline no
good at all. But then, there are salsa dancing sessions and some very good DJs
and an amazing collection of music. And a gym, which I don’t go to often enough
– but which does have a tread mill and weights and mats, and I try to get there
a few times a week.
With the lifting of Chicken
Street and the ISAF market – where the traders bring their jewelry, carpets,
antiques, and whatnots – I have managed
to buy a great deal in a very short time including some Buzkari whips (that’s
Afghan polo, played with the body of dead cow or goat – THE national sport) for
the grandsons, and a Nuristan knife for Jesse’s knife collection. (One day, I
hope to see a Buszkari match, but…..) Also Kuchi jewelry – to hang on the wall
rather than to wear. And of course, a few carpets … because how can you not do
so.
So – that’s a bit of the flavor of my days here. Recently, my
TOR has also been changed and my mission extended from 6 months to 12 months so
that I can head the Protection Cluster that is just being introduced here, a
lot of coordination work. But I think I will enjoy it.
And one of the perks of the work here is that, every 6
weeks, we get one week off and out of the country – with Islamabad, Dubai or Bangkok as paid destinations – and from there
we can, of course, go anywhere we want to at our own expense. So I have had one
R+R in Phuket, Thailand, and I have leave on my second
one tomorrow – to join Jesse and Roxanna in Iran. It was a struggle to get the
visa, but I did, and I have a ticket – so, “inshallah” as they say here – I
catch a plane to Tehran
in the morning.
I also have a very brief visit to Geneva end of May to attend a workshop there,
and in the second week of June I intend to fly to Canada to attend my nephew Mikey’s
wedding.
So – I hope I haven’t bored you. Write me when you get the
chance.
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