Judge Judy...Afghan style

As we attempt to solve the puzzle that is Afghanistan, one of the primary pieces is rule of law.  If the country is going to be able to stand on it's own two feet and if the people of Afghanistan are going to have a lasting trust in their country, then they are going to have to believe in the rule of law and a modern style of justice that involves lawyers, judges and courtrooms.  For centuries they have relied on honor killings, vengence and the word of the tribal elders who would gather and mete out justice.  Kunar, for all of the other problems it faces, has been the standard bearer for modern justice over the past couple of years.  They have been having public trials with prosecutors and defense attorneys and judges just as the system is suppose to work.  In fact, the pride and joy of Asadabad is the new three story courthouse that just opened in May (courtesy of PRT Kunar thank you very much).  Even with all the success and the commitment shown to the rule of law, the past still confronts the future in most cases as was shown the other day when I had the opportunity to observe a murder trial at the new courthouse.  To showcase how successful Kunar has been, our rule of law expert at the PRT, Abe Sutherland (who has been here for over a year and a half and hopefully will stay longer) invited some dignitaries from Kabul to observe the trial also.  So on the morning of the trial we greeted a Brigadier General from the embassy along with an Afghan Supreme Court Justice and representatives from their Attorney General's office and Ministry of the Interior (which is much different from our Interior...instead of being in charge of national parks they own the police and border patrol).  After tea with the Governor, the entire entourage, including the Governor, walked the block and a half from the Governor's Compound to the courthouse.  It was like a little parade with the police lining the streets and the crowds gathering to see who was blocking traffic and our security forces surrounding the VIPs.  It was a very short walk but it is always interesting to walk the streets of Asadabad.

So the case was this:  About a month ago a man was getting out of his car near the traffic circle that we had to walk through to get to the courthouse.  He spied a man across the street who had killed his father and uncle over twenty years before, when he was only two.  According to the suspect, the killer of his father saw him and went back to his car to retrieve a gun.  But before he could get there, the suspect avenged the death of his father and uncle by shooting the man in the neck, killing him there in the street.  He then went to the nearest policeman and surrendered himself.  Vengeance has no statute of limitations in Afghanistan, especially with Pashtuns.  As we entered the courthouse, we had to climb the stairs to the third floor where the courtroom is located.  The room is fairly small, probably only holding about 100 people.  When I entered the room it was practically full, but my good friend Akbar came to the rescue.  Akbar was one of two interpreters who worked with the team when we were in Indiana for three months.  Hadi and Akbar lived with us in the open bay barracks and participated in all the training we went through at Camp Atterbury.  Hadi was nice enough to come visit me in Washington state when I was home on leave.  Akbar, who actually grew up in Asadabad, was in Afghanistan visiting his family and had come by the base the day before to say hello.  I invited him to the trial and he actually brought a couple of his friends.  Akbar always took care of me and today was no exception, as he kicked some people out of a couple of chairs in the back and made room for me and Sami, my governance advisor.  Akbar is a good man.  The room was hot and humid with a hundred bodies and little air conditioning.  It was 100 degrees outside and probably worse inside so everyone was soaked.

As the trial began three judges complete with robes and beautiful white turbans with tails that fell over their shoulders, entered the courtroom.  After the charges were read the prosecutor claimed it was a cold-blooded honor killing while the defense attorney claimed it was self-defense.  The man on trial stood at the front of the courtroom wearing a lime-green button down shirt and looking more relaxed than I would have expected.  He leaned on the railing much of the time and drank from a bottle of water.  When he spoke he said it was him or the victim as the victim was going for a gun.  His mother (who was only in the room when she testified and the only woman in the room except for an American public affairs rep from the State Department) testified that many years before, while she held her son in her arms, her husband and brother were shot and killed by the victim.  She said she brought it up to the mujahadeen when they were in power but nothing was done.  Then when the Taliban was in power she brought it up to them and still the man remained free.  She grew tired of bringing it to the authorities because no one wanted to help.  She pleaded with the court to free her son as he was her only means of support and she would be destitute without him.  After the mother testified, what seemed like their entire village lined up to testify that yes, the victim had killed this poor man's father and uncle many years ago and that he had suffered enough so please free him.  For some of the witnesses the judges asked them how old they were when it happened and some of them were only two or three at the time.  Because of the lack of records in Afghanistan, some had to guess at their age.  One said he had fasted for three years at Ramadan at the time of the shooting.  the judges made fun of him because it would have been much easier to say "seventeen" (people start fasting at Ramadan at fifteen).  After about twenty people testified, the judges said no more, even though there was probably another fifteen or so waiting to say the same things.  The trial was more about the twenty year old murder than the month old one.  The point of the people was that it was justified and honorable so let him go and allow him to take care of his mother. 

The judges asked the prosecutor what he wanted and the prosecutor told them he was asking for execution of the suspect.  The Defense Attorney asked for him to be set free, providing the judges the entire spectrum of punishments to choose from.  While they were out of the courtroom deliberating, I asked Akbar and Sami what they thought and they both thought he would be set free (as did much of the rest of the room).  The judges were only gone for about fifteen or twenty minutes when they came back and read their verdict....guilty, with a sentence of six years in prison.  The room was silent...no outcries or complaints.  Just quiet acceptance of the verdict.  I was looking at the young man as the verdict was read and their was no visible sign of relief or dissapointment.  He remained stoic, although perhaps a bit less relaxed than before.  The funny thing is, he will most likely be safer in prison since it will make it more difficult for the victim's family to exact revenge on the young man.  None of the victim's family was present at the trial...perhaps because they did not want to legitimize the proceedings by their presence.  In all likelihood they will be patient and wait for the man to get out of prison before they seek vengence as the honor code of pashtunwali would call for.  If they had been their they would have been saying "we accept the findings of the court and the punishment given to the man and we accept that justice has been served."  Of course all of this is theory on my part.

So, as the man was led, in shackles, back to prison, we sat down to lunch on the second floor of the courthouse to celebrate another successful example of modern rule of law.  Then, after a few meetings in the courthouse we took the entourage back to the Governor's Compound and transported the VIPs back to the base where they jumped on a helo back to Kabul.  It was a good day because it was a step in the right direction.  The judges did not bend to the pressure of the endless village testimony but also respected the reasonings behind the killing...a blend of past and future that will hopefully be just another small step in allowing Afghanistan to stand on their own two feet and for us to get home.

Don't Make Fun of People...Karma Will Get You

So, a couple of days ago I entered the restroom right outside my room to throw away some empty water bottles.  It was first thing in the morning and I was just starting my day.  As I left the restroom I felt something on the back of my head followed by a sharp pain...stung again.  I have no doubt it was amusing for the Afghan gentleman who was watching me hit myself on the back of the head repeatedly with my own hat trying to make sure there wasn't some kind of bug attached to my head.  Oh yeah, I was also somewhere between yelling and screaming because of the shock of the moment and the searing pain in my head.  I never did see what stung me but I figure it was most likely karma.  A couple of days before our senior chief had to go down to Jalalabad for some training, and while he was there he was stung in the back of the head.  Only he swelled up and went into anphlaxtic shock.  I guess I shouldn't have made fun of him.  We do have wasps here...orange wasps that make their nests all over the place.  They usually don't bother you and you almost get used to them flying around.  Of course they also have centipedes.  One of our guys was stung on the arm by a centipede but he was fine (although I guess the little sucker didn't want to let go for a few seconds). I made fun of him too (karma again).  Not sure what stung me but I immediately went to medical where they gave me some little white pills.  Doc said it wouldn't make me as sleepy as benadryl which is good because my boss happened to be flying out to spend the day at our lovely base, so obviously I couldn't be out of it.  I'm certainly glad Doc didn't give me benadryl because the little white pill he gave me kicked my butt.  Just thirty minutes before the visit, I was loopy as an amusement park ride and could barely hold my head up (not to mention my head still hurt).  Luckily I was able to make it through, and if anything it relaxed me through the visit.  Later that evening, after the boss had left,  we had some excitement when we learned the meaning of the phrase "the rockets red glare."  Thankfully everyone was safe and we responded well.  Just another crazy day in Kunar...more later.

Catching Up

Alright, so the reason I started this blog in the first place was to keep family and friends up to date on what I was up to during my adventure to Afghanistan.  I wrote fairly regularly during the training leading up to the deployment, but as soon as I got here everything stopped...sorry about that.  So, tonight I will attempt to get back on track.  It is a shame really, because a day does not go by that something happens and I think to myself that I should write about it.  But as time rolls on more interesting things get added to the list and it becomes overwhelming to the point where I just do not write anything.  One of the problems I often face is trying to figure out what I can write and what I should write.  There are obviously things that go on that I cannot write about because of security and classification so that is easy.  There are other times where I have to take into account those that might read it so I don't unduly worry anyone even though I am perfectly safe.  Sometimes, when you write about experiences it may be a bit worrisome for the folks at home.  I have to filter some things so people don't jump to conclusions or get the wrong idea. Anyway, let's jump back into it.

We arrived at Camp Wright three weeks ago after a long trip that took us from Indiana to Germany (two hour layover) to Manas, Kyrgyzstan to Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan to Jalalabad to Camp Wright.  Some quick impressions of each stop:

    -Manas.  It was strange to be in a place that used to be part of the Soviet Union.  We spent three days at a transit base there waiting for further transportation.  We were not allowed to leave the base but I spoke with some Raytheon contractors who live out on town.  One of the guys said that a delicacy around there was horse milk.  He tried it once and said it was nasty.  I asked him if he drank it cold or warm and he just shook his head and said it was just plain nasty.  What I want to know is who is milking the horses?  I am so glad horse milk was not a delicacy back when we had a barn full of horses.  I can just see me and Dad putting the pail under the old buckskin mare named Cindy and trying to milk her...okay, wipe that thought out of your mind.  Anyway, the other memory I will have of Manas is the grasshoppers.  Thousands and thousands of grasshoppers flying around.  At dusk they are all around the lampposts eating the smaller bugs until they get their fill.  But then they are so gorged and fat that they can't move anymore.  So when the sun comes up in the morning the sidewalk is full of shmushed grasshoppers that got stepped on by people walking by.  That is all my scientific theory of course, take it or leave it.  I am pretty sure we brought a few to Afghanistan with us because they were crawling all over our bags right before we left.

    -Bagram.  I am not a big fan of Bagram.  The first time I was there was in February when we arrived in the middle of a snowstorm with the biggest, fattest, wettest flakes I have ever seen.  It snowed for three days and we were stuck there for four days.  Coming back in June it was just hot.  We were placed in a tent big enough for Barnum and Bailey Circus.  It must have had 300 to 400 bunks in it, and the with no lights or ac it was dark and sweltering.  Luckily we were able to get out of there in less than a day. 

    -Jalalabad.  We arrived in Jalalabad after a quick layover in Kandahar.  For awhile there we thought we were going to get stuck in Kandahar, which would have been my worst nightmare.  Luckily they loaded us back up and we were able to make it to Jalalabad.  That place is just simply hot.  One memory that has always stayed with me was when I flew from Seattle to Bangkok and arrived in the middle of the night.  I remember stepping off the plane to walk down the stairs and on to the tarmac and feeling the heat sizzling my brain.  Arriving in Jalalabad gave me the same feeling.  It was intensified when we stepped out the back of the C130 and had to walk behind the engines.  It was, without a doubt, the hottest I have ever felt...similar to putting my face on a burner.  Once we passed behind the plane that sensation went away but it was still 110 degrees.  I lucked out and was able to get on a helo to Camp Wright just three hours after arriving.  I preceded the rest of my team, as they had to wait one night in Jalalabad before  coming up the next day. 

Asadabad.  If you have to be stationed in Asadabad, Forward Operating Base (FOB Wright) is the place to be.  It is small yet has most of the amenities you would want.  Good food, good facilities and in a beautiful setting.  Just a few minutes away from downtown Asadabad, the FOB sits in a valley not far from the Kunar River, surrounded by hills and mountains that perhaps in another lifetime will be an outdoor paradise.  It would be a great place to hike and fish if there weren't bad guys in the hills and pollution in the river from the waste that drains into it.  It was great to see the team arrive the next day because they all seemed to be thrilled to finally be here and pleasantly surprised by the accommodations.  I guess after spending all that time in Indiana, Manas, Bagram and Jalalabad, it made Camp Wright look pretty good.

It has been a week and a half since we had a turnover ceremony and the old team left.  Since then we have been going through a few growing pains here and there as we establish a rhythm and figure out the best way to do things.  Although not as hot as Jalalabad, this place is hot in it's own right, hovering around 105 most days.  Even in the evenings the air is just hot and heavy.  When the wind blows sometimes it just feels like you opened the oven and that initial blast of heat hits your face. 

Alright, so not very interesting, but I will write much more often (and shorter) so we can keep in touch.  There is much more to report and many interesting things happening every day.  More later...