In the waning minutes of 2011 I figured I would provide one more post to give a very quick view of the year. It is cold and my heater isn't working so I can't sit here to long without freezing. January 2011 found me in Washington DC, finishing up my last month of Pashto training and enjoying my last real month of freedom before the deployment started in earnest. It was the last month that I had regular hours and was able to come and go as I wished, not having to run around in a convoy of Mad Max vehicles, or locked down in an open bay barracks in a state I hope to never visit again. I was living in the basement of a former Assistant Secretary of Commerce sharing it with one of my classmates and four cats. I was close enough that I could visit my brother David and his wonderful wife and daughter Marybeth and Emma for some family time and a hot meal. Most of my time was studying a language I still haven't mastered and never will. My closest friend was a calico cat named Dandelion.
February I made my first trip to Afghanistan to visit Kunar and get a feel for what challenges lay ahead for the team I had yet to meet. I remember the first time I climbed into one of the massive armored trucks and rolled out of the base and on to the roads of Kunar. "So this is what I have to look forward too...hmmm." The trip to Afghanistan, and the month, went by quickly even with the snowstorm in Bagram that kept us stranded for four days unable to go anywhere. Before I knew it March came around and I was home for just a few days before heading back to Camp Atterbury, Indiana. I actually spent the first week of February there with the small group of PRT COs, but when we returned our teams had started to form. March was filled with meeting the team and getting to know everyone as we started our training. By the end of the month the entire team was together. April, May and the first part of June are a blur as we "formed the tribe" learned how to be soldiers, shot lots of weapons and lived in open bay barracks together. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't pleasant and more than anything we just wanted to get out of there so we could start the deployment. Having already been to Kunar I knew our living conditions would be better in Afghanistan. It was sometimes difficult for them to believe that, so it was great to see their eyes light up and their smiles light their faces as they arrived.
But, before we left for Kunar, we were allowed to go home for a week. As luck would have it that was the week Bob graduated from Oregon State. It was wonderful to see him in the ceremony. I was more nervous and excited for him heading off on his adventure to Los Angeles than I was for my deployment. He has done so well, I couldn't be prouder. The week at home culminated in a graduation party at the beautiful home of my sister Molly and her husband Steve. It was nice to see everyone celebrating Bob and Rachel's graduation. It was a good way to finish the trip. Going to the airport with Midori and Sara, I was a blubbering fool. It was difficult to walk away from them and head to the plane...what was I doing?
Since July everything has run together. This has been the toughest job I have ever had, although it has changed a bit since returning from R&R. The leadership challenges have been endless and never have I questioned myself or my abilities than I did in the first six months. My leadership style changed...for a variety of reasons, and now I kick myself for not trusting my instincts and doing what I know how to do. Now, I am more calm and can see more clearly what I need to do. There is still plenty of fog, but I can see my way through it now (with the help of a great team). Some of the stories will have to wait to be told until I get home...it is just better that way.
Christmas day I spent most of the time up on our observation post eating a Christmas lunch with our squad that is up there keeping us safe. The Sergeant Major and I spent about three and a half hours with them before the helo came and took us back down to the base. Later my boss flew in to join us for Christmas dinner. We spent the first hour serving up dinner for the troops. I was responsible for the ham and the cheesiest macaroni and cheese I have ever seen. After dinner the boss stayed for a little bit and then we put him on a helo and he was off. The evening ended standing around the fire pit enjoying the company of a few Soldiers and Sailors who weren't quite ready to call in a night.
Jumping back to November, I believe the greatest moment of the entire year was walking into my house for the first time and having Midori leap into my arms. I wasn't sure what her reaction would be when I surprised her...it was better than anything I could imagine. The worst moment was perhaps when I realized how much time I wasted during the two weeks I was home. I was sick the first three or four days and then made Midori sick. Once I was healthy I should have spent more quality time with both Midori and Sean. Instead I was in a daze for most of it, doing as little as possible and wasting precious time. Regrets suck.
So that brings us to the last hour of the year. There is a lame party at the USO building but I will probably go out and join the gang standing around the fire pit again. Better than sitting at the computer in this cold room I suppose. All in all it has been a good year...challenging, educational, frustrating. I have made some lifelong friends, that is certain. I look forward to new challenges in the year to come...Happy New Year.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Once More into the Breach
I have been back in Afghanistan for a little over a week now. I arrived back in Kunar last Thursday afternoon. I sat down with my executive officer and sergeant major for about an hour and received a quick update before retiring to my room to settle down to a long winter's nap. I started fresh the next morning after the best sleep in a week after traveling from Seattle to Atlanta to Kuwait to Bagram to Jalalabad to Asadabad. The next day I was back at it.
When I started my travel, I wondered how I would feel coming back. To spend five months in this place, then go home for a short time knowing all along I would have to come back, was a little strange while I was home. But once I arrived it was just like riding a bike. This place, after all, is where I work. This is my job and I have committed to seeing it through. For the first few days of course I heard "welcome back" over and over and answered the questions about how my leave was and how the family was. I didn't mind it, and actually appreciated it, but did not feel completely back into it until that eventually subsided. It was great to see all the members of the team and I was excited to start working to put a dent in this difficult mission.
By the second full day I was jumping on a helicopter to take a very short trip to another FOB so that I could walk over to the Governor's compound to attend a large gathering. Since our guys already had training scheduled on the FOB, Abe (our Rule of Law guy) and I decided to catch a quick flight so we could attend without disrupting the schedule of the guys who would normally drive us over. The meeting was the culmination of an effort that had been going on for years to bring to an end a major feud between two families in Kunar. As the story goes it started over a woman over 35 years ago. Ever since then they had been at war with each other. The two families are from the same tribe and both are prominent in the province. One family was headed by Malik Zarin who was the top elder in Kunar until a child with a suicide vest killed him back in April. The other family includes a member of Parliament. So there was quite a bit of power and it was in everyone's best interest to end the feud.
So, about three months ago a 45 man jirga was appointed and started in earnest on brokering a peace agreement. They created a document that both families would be required to sign and honor. The agreement included compensation on both sides for injustices that may have taken place over the years. Throughout the feud at least 20 family members had been killed with many more injured or caught in the crossfire. A jirga (I knew you were wondering) is a group of elders that decide on legal or tribal issues. Pashtunwali is the code that all Pashtuns live by with a very specific set of principles that cover everything that includes providing shelter to strangers, revenge, honor, loyalty, etc. Because this jirga had come up with the agreement and because the heads of the two families signed it, the feud is now over. Everyone we spoke to said that the entire families would respect the agreement and no more blood would be spilled. They would now live as brothers. The meeting was attended my parliamentarians and ministers from Kabul and what seemed like every elder in Kunar. The shura hall probably held 300 people and the courtyard in the governor's compound was full of hundreds more listening to the speeches. The culminating event was literally bringing family members up on the stage to hug each other in a show of brotherhood. Thirty-five years of strife ended in one day and sealed with hugs.
So, I am back in the grind. My XO headed home for his leave (which means I am busier than usual) and I have settled back into the same battle rhythm I was in before I went home. Now, it is time to put a dent in this mission we have been tasked with and get this team home on time.
When I started my travel, I wondered how I would feel coming back. To spend five months in this place, then go home for a short time knowing all along I would have to come back, was a little strange while I was home. But once I arrived it was just like riding a bike. This place, after all, is where I work. This is my job and I have committed to seeing it through. For the first few days of course I heard "welcome back" over and over and answered the questions about how my leave was and how the family was. I didn't mind it, and actually appreciated it, but did not feel completely back into it until that eventually subsided. It was great to see all the members of the team and I was excited to start working to put a dent in this difficult mission.
By the second full day I was jumping on a helicopter to take a very short trip to another FOB so that I could walk over to the Governor's compound to attend a large gathering. Since our guys already had training scheduled on the FOB, Abe (our Rule of Law guy) and I decided to catch a quick flight so we could attend without disrupting the schedule of the guys who would normally drive us over. The meeting was the culmination of an effort that had been going on for years to bring to an end a major feud between two families in Kunar. As the story goes it started over a woman over 35 years ago. Ever since then they had been at war with each other. The two families are from the same tribe and both are prominent in the province. One family was headed by Malik Zarin who was the top elder in Kunar until a child with a suicide vest killed him back in April. The other family includes a member of Parliament. So there was quite a bit of power and it was in everyone's best interest to end the feud.
So, about three months ago a 45 man jirga was appointed and started in earnest on brokering a peace agreement. They created a document that both families would be required to sign and honor. The agreement included compensation on both sides for injustices that may have taken place over the years. Throughout the feud at least 20 family members had been killed with many more injured or caught in the crossfire. A jirga (I knew you were wondering) is a group of elders that decide on legal or tribal issues. Pashtunwali is the code that all Pashtuns live by with a very specific set of principles that cover everything that includes providing shelter to strangers, revenge, honor, loyalty, etc. Because this jirga had come up with the agreement and because the heads of the two families signed it, the feud is now over. Everyone we spoke to said that the entire families would respect the agreement and no more blood would be spilled. They would now live as brothers. The meeting was attended my parliamentarians and ministers from Kabul and what seemed like every elder in Kunar. The shura hall probably held 300 people and the courtyard in the governor's compound was full of hundreds more listening to the speeches. The culminating event was literally bringing family members up on the stage to hug each other in a show of brotherhood. Thirty-five years of strife ended in one day and sealed with hugs.
So, I am back in the grind. My XO headed home for his leave (which means I am busier than usual) and I have settled back into the same battle rhythm I was in before I went home. Now, it is time to put a dent in this mission we have been tasked with and get this team home on time.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
R&R Comes to an end
I knew, way back when this journey started, that there was an opportunity for everyone to get home for two weeks of rest and relaxation (R&R). But it was difficult for me to wrap my mind around. In the Navy, when the ship leaves on deployment, everyone is there throughout the deployment. We don't send people home unless it is for an emergency. It was especially foreign to me to leave the command as the commanding officer. To leave the command in the middle of deployment seemed like a betrayal of the team and was not sure how much "rest and relaxation" would happen knowing the team was continuing to go into harm's way without me.
But deploying to a war zone on the ground is not the same as deploying on a ship. At least on the ship there is the occasional respite from duty each time they pull into some exotic port and enjoy a few days of liberty. In Afghanistan, there is no break, no exotic ports, no liberty. I realized in October that not only did I need to use my R&R, but the team needed me to use it. I needed to decompress and they needed to continue the mission without me for awhile. My Executive Officer needed to have the opportunity to develop by running the show and participating in missions.
So, on the 14th of November I stepped onboard a helo and started the long journey home. The first leg was a thirty minute flight to Jalalabad. It did not start out well, as five minutes into the flight I realized my butt was too comfortable (what)? I was sitting evenly on the canvas seat in the helicopter, which was a bad sign. I reached down with my right hand and confirmed my suspicion...and my heart fell. Moments before leaving I had changed my uniform pants to a clean pair. Their are eight pockets in the pants, so it is always a process to move everything over from the old pair to the new pair. As luck would happen, I checked seven pockets when I switched out. Sitting in the bottom of the cabinet in my room was a dirty pair of camouflage pants with a wallet in the back pocket...idiot. I wasn't going to get anywhere without my ID card which was sitting in that wallet which was in the back pocket of the camouflage pants in the bottom of the cabinet in my room. This was not starting well.
As luck would have it, one of my guys was on another flight later in the morning. There were four of us leaving on R&R but only three of us were manifested on the early flight, so I knew Petty Officer Ruiz was going to be leaving the base within a couple of hours. As soon the the helo landed in Jalalabad, I called back to my Operations Officer. The call went something like this:
Where are you right now?
I am outside behind the headquarters building sir.
Do me a favor and walk over to my room. Tell me when you are there.
Alright sir, I am here.
Enter this code into the cipher lock ****. Let me know when you are in.
I'm in sir.
Walk forward to the cabinet on your right, open up the door on the left.
Okay, got it.
Do you see a pair of pants laying there unfolded?
Yes sir.
Pick them up, and take the wallet out of the back pocket.
(Snickering and laughter)got it sir.
Please take the wallet and give it to Petty Officer Ruiz before he jumps on the helo.
No problem, consider it done.
Once again my guys came through in the clutch. Petty Officer Ruiz delivered the wallet just a couple of hours later and we were all able to fly out of Jalalabad later that day. The next leg took us to Bagram Airfield where we would catch a flight to Kuwait. While two of the guys were able to get out to Kuwait early the next morning, I was stuck in Bagram for about thirty six hours before getting on a C-130 in the middle of the night, packed like sardines in uncomfortable seats (sitting sideways) for about five and a half hours. After arriving in Kuwait, we were told that we would be flying out of Kuwait in a couple of days so to get comfortable and come back for a Friday flight ( I had started traveling on Monday and this was now Wednesday). I had taken a minimalist packing tact and brought only a back pack with a few changes of underwear and my computer. Once I realized I was going to be there for a couple of days, I went to the exchange and bought a pair of running shoes. I figured I might as well work out for a couple of days rather than laying around. But on Thursday morning, before I could even try on the shoes they called our flight number over the loudspeaker. So we all assembled and were told we had 45 minutes to gather our stuff and report with our bags to catch an earlier flight. I wasn't going to complain. That night we were heading on the long, long journey to Atlanta. I was squeezed into a middle seat all the way from Kuwait to Ireland and Ireland to Atlanta...lovely.
Once in Atlanta, since no one knew I was coming home, I decided I better try and connect with someone at home to pick me up. It is great having a brother living in the area, so I pulled out my stateside phone and attempted to call Mike, but quickly found out my phone was no longer activated. Bummer. I went to a pay as you go email station and stuck a five dollar bill in the slot which gave me about five minutes to write an email to Mike and ask him to pick me up in Seattle later that afternoon. Later, I spied a Major who had been on the same journey with me from Kuwait waiting at my gate. He was nice enough to lend me his phone and I was able to connect with Mike. Before the flight left I stopped by the gift store and bought myself some Nyquil since I felt my head and chest filling up with crud and my general health plummeting. The Nyquil knocked me out on the flight to Seattle.
Of course (time to cut this short), it was all worth it when I walked through the door and Midori jumped into my arms. It has been a great trip despite being sick for the first few days (and then giving Midori my cold). A great Thanksgiving at Molly's and a nice visit to Oregon. The time spent with my family and with old friends was a great way to recharge the batteries. Now it is time to get a haircut, pack up and head back for the final three months of a rewarding but very challenging tour...hope I remember my wallet.
But deploying to a war zone on the ground is not the same as deploying on a ship. At least on the ship there is the occasional respite from duty each time they pull into some exotic port and enjoy a few days of liberty. In Afghanistan, there is no break, no exotic ports, no liberty. I realized in October that not only did I need to use my R&R, but the team needed me to use it. I needed to decompress and they needed to continue the mission without me for awhile. My Executive Officer needed to have the opportunity to develop by running the show and participating in missions.
So, on the 14th of November I stepped onboard a helo and started the long journey home. The first leg was a thirty minute flight to Jalalabad. It did not start out well, as five minutes into the flight I realized my butt was too comfortable (what)? I was sitting evenly on the canvas seat in the helicopter, which was a bad sign. I reached down with my right hand and confirmed my suspicion...and my heart fell. Moments before leaving I had changed my uniform pants to a clean pair. Their are eight pockets in the pants, so it is always a process to move everything over from the old pair to the new pair. As luck would happen, I checked seven pockets when I switched out. Sitting in the bottom of the cabinet in my room was a dirty pair of camouflage pants with a wallet in the back pocket...idiot. I wasn't going to get anywhere without my ID card which was sitting in that wallet which was in the back pocket of the camouflage pants in the bottom of the cabinet in my room. This was not starting well.
As luck would have it, one of my guys was on another flight later in the morning. There were four of us leaving on R&R but only three of us were manifested on the early flight, so I knew Petty Officer Ruiz was going to be leaving the base within a couple of hours. As soon the the helo landed in Jalalabad, I called back to my Operations Officer. The call went something like this:
Where are you right now?
I am outside behind the headquarters building sir.
Do me a favor and walk over to my room. Tell me when you are there.
Alright sir, I am here.
Enter this code into the cipher lock ****. Let me know when you are in.
I'm in sir.
Walk forward to the cabinet on your right, open up the door on the left.
Okay, got it.
Do you see a pair of pants laying there unfolded?
Yes sir.
Pick them up, and take the wallet out of the back pocket.
(Snickering and laughter)got it sir.
Please take the wallet and give it to Petty Officer Ruiz before he jumps on the helo.
No problem, consider it done.
Once again my guys came through in the clutch. Petty Officer Ruiz delivered the wallet just a couple of hours later and we were all able to fly out of Jalalabad later that day. The next leg took us to Bagram Airfield where we would catch a flight to Kuwait. While two of the guys were able to get out to Kuwait early the next morning, I was stuck in Bagram for about thirty six hours before getting on a C-130 in the middle of the night, packed like sardines in uncomfortable seats (sitting sideways) for about five and a half hours. After arriving in Kuwait, we were told that we would be flying out of Kuwait in a couple of days so to get comfortable and come back for a Friday flight ( I had started traveling on Monday and this was now Wednesday). I had taken a minimalist packing tact and brought only a back pack with a few changes of underwear and my computer. Once I realized I was going to be there for a couple of days, I went to the exchange and bought a pair of running shoes. I figured I might as well work out for a couple of days rather than laying around. But on Thursday morning, before I could even try on the shoes they called our flight number over the loudspeaker. So we all assembled and were told we had 45 minutes to gather our stuff and report with our bags to catch an earlier flight. I wasn't going to complain. That night we were heading on the long, long journey to Atlanta. I was squeezed into a middle seat all the way from Kuwait to Ireland and Ireland to Atlanta...lovely.
Once in Atlanta, since no one knew I was coming home, I decided I better try and connect with someone at home to pick me up. It is great having a brother living in the area, so I pulled out my stateside phone and attempted to call Mike, but quickly found out my phone was no longer activated. Bummer. I went to a pay as you go email station and stuck a five dollar bill in the slot which gave me about five minutes to write an email to Mike and ask him to pick me up in Seattle later that afternoon. Later, I spied a Major who had been on the same journey with me from Kuwait waiting at my gate. He was nice enough to lend me his phone and I was able to connect with Mike. Before the flight left I stopped by the gift store and bought myself some Nyquil since I felt my head and chest filling up with crud and my general health plummeting. The Nyquil knocked me out on the flight to Seattle.
Of course (time to cut this short), it was all worth it when I walked through the door and Midori jumped into my arms. It has been a great trip despite being sick for the first few days (and then giving Midori my cold). A great Thanksgiving at Molly's and a nice visit to Oregon. The time spent with my family and with old friends was a great way to recharge the batteries. Now it is time to get a haircut, pack up and head back for the final three months of a rewarding but very challenging tour...hope I remember my wallet.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Comforts of Home
I always tell people that FOB Wright is the best kept secret in Afghanistan. Compared to other Forward Operating Bases, or large airfields for that matter, Wright is plush. We have good food, good berthing and we are small so everyone know everyone unlike some of the other bases that have thousands of people. Plus, being tucked into the base of the mountains, the scenery is breathtaking. We are so close to the hills and mountains that lately the sun goes behind the peaks around three in the afternoon.
So, when the job requires traveling to other bases, the standard of living goes down considerably. Last week I had to go to Kabul for a conference. I flew in a Blackhawk helicopter from Jalalabad toKabul with the Commanding Officer of PRT Nangarhar. It was a revealing trip as we flew over eastern Afghanistan. For most of the trip from Jalalabad to Kabul it was like flying over the moon...no life, no vegetation, just brown and uninhabitated. Once in Kabul we were led to a transit tent where we would be staying, quite a downgrade from my accomodations at Wright. The tent was cold and dank with about twelve bunkbeds. As we arrived there was a British officer who was just leaving. He recommended we use the restroom that was further away, because, the one that was right outside the tent was pretty nasty. He blamed it on the Lithuanians who evidently have yet to grasp the concept of sitting on a toilet, and would rather stand on the toilet seat and squat down to do their business (this is the same issue we have with the Afghans unfortunately). When I say restroom, it is actually a couple of Conex boxes with toilets, sinks and showers installed. Usually the showers don't work well or put out cold water only and you usually walk out feeling dirtier than when you went in. I had a close call when I took a shower and my micro-fiber towel (which is similar to a shamwow but is thin enough to put in a backpack) fell off the hook and traveled downward towards the slimy, dirty standing water on the floor. Using the soccer skills of bygone days, I stuck my foot out just before it hit the floor, saving me from a very uncomfortable situation. One of my fellow PRT COs was not so lucky and he ended up having to towel himself off with the only dry corner of his soaked towel.
The other problem that comes with leaving Kunar is getting back in a timely manner. Because most travel is via helicopters and C130s the ability to get a flight is a combination of luck and timing. The morning after the conference ended, we were scheduled to jump on a Blackhawk and fly back to Jalalabad. From there I would have to find a ride back to Kunar. When we jumped on the helo we settled in for what should have been a quick 30-40 minute flight to Jalalabad. Instead we ended up flying to a FOB I had never heard of in the middle of nowhere. After taking some more passengers, we headed out to....some other base where we picked up some French officers. Off we went to some FOB on the top of a mountain where we dropped off some of our fellow passengers. Finally we completed our tour of Afghanistan. After two and a half hours of flying we landed safely in…Bagram. Not where we wanted to go. So we spent the night there and caught a flight back to Jalalabad the next day. After a few hours there I hopped on a helo bound for FOB Wright. A welcome sight it was, including my own room, the clean restroom, good food and the wonderful people that make up the team. There’s no place like home.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Dollar Signs
I have met some great people during my time in Afghanistan. Some are courageous and patriotic, doing all they can to bring peace to their country after thirty years of war and strife. Some do not ask for a thing and understand that it is on them to find a way forward. Others do not hold out much hope for peace after we leave. When I ask what they think will happen after we leave, they talk of civil war and continued pain and suffering.
I have moments where I start to feel a connection with some of them. I have made friends since I have been here and I am genuinely happy to see them and converse in whatever way we can. Often times though, the feeling of brotherhood fades away as the conversation inevitably leads to money. Can the PRT do this for us, can they do that for us, build this, build that, pay for this, pay for that. For so long, the pursestrings at the PRT were wide open and the PRT had projects all over Kunar. Now, we have shifted to mentoring and guiding them to use their own resources within their own government. Only they still have yet to make that transition. They don't trust their government and they still believe that the only way anything will get done is with PRT money.
I remember a month or so ago I was at the governor's compound with Sami, my trusted governance advisor. He is a good man, just 22 years old, who has high aspirations to hold office some day. But for now he is my right hand man, as we navigate through the process of getting the provincial government to use the processes that are there for them. Sami and I were standing in a courtyard talking to a couple of other gentleman I had grown fond of. Inside I was feeling good about the whole scene. In all this madness of war I had come halfway across the world and now was having a normal conversation with some people who were working hard for peace. But, as normal, the conversation was directed toward a clinic in their district that had the solar panels stolen from the roof. So the clinic now had no power and the level of medical care had dropped. Speaking to Sami in Pashto (my Pashto is not good enough to have an involved conversation) they told him to ask me to replace the solar panels. He asked them if they had talked to the Public Health Director to see if he would replace them. They told them to just be a good interpretor and just tell me what they were asking. He argued that he was not an interpretor, he was my governance advisor. They laughed at him and told him to translate. When Sami relayed the conversation to me I said the same thing he did, ask the Public Health Director...use your system that is in place. They argued that the director would not do anything and that he didn't care about them. I told them I would talk to the director but they just shook their heads, looking at it as a dead end. I made sure they knew that Sami was not my linguist and that he answered them in that way because he and I are on the same page.
Alright, one more example. I know this is running long, but I am making up for lost time. About two weeks ago we attended an opening ceremony for a new school (the one with the infamous poop minefields). The governor was going to attend so we were waiting for his arrival along with hundreds of students that, until now had been taking their lessons under the trees in the courtyards. During my last visit I had a great conversation with the headmaster of the school, sitting in his dark, dingy office in the old school that was being replaced. We had talked about everything from education to cricket while drinking Mountain Dew (the national drink of Afghanistan). I greeted the headmaster on the day of the ceremony and we shared our excitement for opening the doors to the school and providing the students a great place to learn.
As we continued to wait I saw a man I recognized to be the foreman on a road project we were funding nearby. He said he was there because this was his village and he had brothers and his own children attending this school. Again we had a nice conversation, although I started to feel uneasy because I was staring at what looked to be the barrel of a gun poking out from his shirt. I asked him nicely what he had under his shirt and he confirmed that it was his gun. He pulled out his permit but I told him I didn't need to see that, but it made me nervous since it was pointing right at my face. He adjusted his holster and we continued our conversation. A bit later (the governor was over an hour late), one of the elders took me outside the wall to show me where they wanted a culvert and small bridge built across a small stream that crossed right in front of the entrance to the school. There was a very small and unstable log crossing the stream, maybe five or six feet above the trickle of water. The elder explained that it was very unsafe for the kids and something had to be done.
What a great opportunity, I thought to myself, as I grabbed the construction foreman and showed him the issue. Yes, he said, this would be a very simple job that would take no more than a week. If you hire me to do the job, it would be very easy. No, no, no, he was missing the point. Perhaps if you got together with your fellow villagers you could all make this happen yourselves, without our help. That would be a great victory for your village. No, he said, it is a very difficult job, too difficult for us to do. What?
Later, after the governor arrived and the ceremony was over, I bid farewell to the headmaster and looked forward to seeing him again. Yes, he said, we have many more requests for you....(sigh).
So, I am getting a glimpse into the world of the rich and famous where you never know if they appreciate you for yourself or just for your money. I'm pretty sure my bright, shiny personality isn't winning anyone over. Dollar signs, unfortunately, are driving their affection for the tall American. By the way, two days after the ceremony, the foreman with the gun poking out of his shirt was shot in the leg three times while driving home.
I have moments where I start to feel a connection with some of them. I have made friends since I have been here and I am genuinely happy to see them and converse in whatever way we can. Often times though, the feeling of brotherhood fades away as the conversation inevitably leads to money. Can the PRT do this for us, can they do that for us, build this, build that, pay for this, pay for that. For so long, the pursestrings at the PRT were wide open and the PRT had projects all over Kunar. Now, we have shifted to mentoring and guiding them to use their own resources within their own government. Only they still have yet to make that transition. They don't trust their government and they still believe that the only way anything will get done is with PRT money.
I remember a month or so ago I was at the governor's compound with Sami, my trusted governance advisor. He is a good man, just 22 years old, who has high aspirations to hold office some day. But for now he is my right hand man, as we navigate through the process of getting the provincial government to use the processes that are there for them. Sami and I were standing in a courtyard talking to a couple of other gentleman I had grown fond of. Inside I was feeling good about the whole scene. In all this madness of war I had come halfway across the world and now was having a normal conversation with some people who were working hard for peace. But, as normal, the conversation was directed toward a clinic in their district that had the solar panels stolen from the roof. So the clinic now had no power and the level of medical care had dropped. Speaking to Sami in Pashto (my Pashto is not good enough to have an involved conversation) they told him to ask me to replace the solar panels. He asked them if they had talked to the Public Health Director to see if he would replace them. They told them to just be a good interpretor and just tell me what they were asking. He argued that he was not an interpretor, he was my governance advisor. They laughed at him and told him to translate. When Sami relayed the conversation to me I said the same thing he did, ask the Public Health Director...use your system that is in place. They argued that the director would not do anything and that he didn't care about them. I told them I would talk to the director but they just shook their heads, looking at it as a dead end. I made sure they knew that Sami was not my linguist and that he answered them in that way because he and I are on the same page.
Alright, one more example. I know this is running long, but I am making up for lost time. About two weeks ago we attended an opening ceremony for a new school (the one with the infamous poop minefields). The governor was going to attend so we were waiting for his arrival along with hundreds of students that, until now had been taking their lessons under the trees in the courtyards. During my last visit I had a great conversation with the headmaster of the school, sitting in his dark, dingy office in the old school that was being replaced. We had talked about everything from education to cricket while drinking Mountain Dew (the national drink of Afghanistan). I greeted the headmaster on the day of the ceremony and we shared our excitement for opening the doors to the school and providing the students a great place to learn.
As we continued to wait I saw a man I recognized to be the foreman on a road project we were funding nearby. He said he was there because this was his village and he had brothers and his own children attending this school. Again we had a nice conversation, although I started to feel uneasy because I was staring at what looked to be the barrel of a gun poking out from his shirt. I asked him nicely what he had under his shirt and he confirmed that it was his gun. He pulled out his permit but I told him I didn't need to see that, but it made me nervous since it was pointing right at my face. He adjusted his holster and we continued our conversation. A bit later (the governor was over an hour late), one of the elders took me outside the wall to show me where they wanted a culvert and small bridge built across a small stream that crossed right in front of the entrance to the school. There was a very small and unstable log crossing the stream, maybe five or six feet above the trickle of water. The elder explained that it was very unsafe for the kids and something had to be done.
What a great opportunity, I thought to myself, as I grabbed the construction foreman and showed him the issue. Yes, he said, this would be a very simple job that would take no more than a week. If you hire me to do the job, it would be very easy. No, no, no, he was missing the point. Perhaps if you got together with your fellow villagers you could all make this happen yourselves, without our help. That would be a great victory for your village. No, he said, it is a very difficult job, too difficult for us to do. What?
Later, after the governor arrived and the ceremony was over, I bid farewell to the headmaster and looked forward to seeing him again. Yes, he said, we have many more requests for you....(sigh).
So, I am getting a glimpse into the world of the rich and famous where you never know if they appreciate you for yourself or just for your money. I'm pretty sure my bright, shiny personality isn't winning anyone over. Dollar signs, unfortunately, are driving their affection for the tall American. By the way, two days after the ceremony, the foreman with the gun poking out of his shirt was shot in the leg three times while driving home.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Basic Hygiene
Alright, this is a little disgusting, but I have to write about it. When I say we build schools, we actually just pay for the schools. We work with the Provincial Education Directorate to determine what their priorities are and then we propose school projects up the chain of command. Once they are approved we go through the bidding process, calling for contract bids from local contractors. Once a contractor is selected a contract is signed and the work begins. We place conditions in the contract that require the contractor to hire locally providing employment opportunities to the local villages rather than bringing in workers from another district or province (which is a recipe for disaster). While the school is being built, our job is to visit the work site on a regular basis and conduct quality control inspections to ensure the workmanship is up to standards and that they are maintaining the timeline to complete the project on time.
For some of the schools, when we visit there are already studying under the trees or in the corner of the courtyard. Teachers will bring chalkboards outside, prop them up against the tree and have the kids sit on blankets in the shade while they teach the lesson. It is good to see such a hunger for education.
But let me get to the point. When they build the schools, they always build the restrooms as separate buildings. Each restroom will have maybe six or seven stalls. Depending on the contractor, some restrooms will include porcelain and plumbing. Others will consist of a hole in the floor. The buildings are basically permanent port-a-potties since the holes don't lead to any piping system. We have made a couple of visits to a school that is getting ready to open. The students have been sitting under the trees for quite some time, waiting for the school to be finished. As I walked into the restroom to check on the construction I ran into a mine field, with piles and piles of poop all over the floor. The concrete floor was also stained with urine and the air was stagnant and thick. The first time I saw this I told the foreman they needed to clean up the restroom. The foreman explained that all the kids get a break at the same time so the first six or seven kids get the stalls and the rest just squat and do their business wherever they can. What?!? The next time we visited one of the restrooms had been cleaned up and locked. The other one, however still had poop mines. Walking around the side of the building the ground was covered with piles of poop as kids would go behind the building to do their business. I spoke to the principal about teaching the kids proper hygiene and the importance of avoiding disease. He looked at me and said "Oh, this is the girls' restroom." Okay...and your point is....what exactly? I guess since they are girls they can figure it out for themselves. He assured me that once the school was actually open and the kids were out from under the trees and in the building they would be taught the proper way to use the restroom. I'm not sure why he wants to wait to get them in the building but we will see.
This is just another example of the struggle to bring them into the 21st Century and the importance of education, not only for the kids, but for the parents the teachers and the future leaders of the country.
For some of the schools, when we visit there are already studying under the trees or in the corner of the courtyard. Teachers will bring chalkboards outside, prop them up against the tree and have the kids sit on blankets in the shade while they teach the lesson. It is good to see such a hunger for education.
But let me get to the point. When they build the schools, they always build the restrooms as separate buildings. Each restroom will have maybe six or seven stalls. Depending on the contractor, some restrooms will include porcelain and plumbing. Others will consist of a hole in the floor. The buildings are basically permanent port-a-potties since the holes don't lead to any piping system. We have made a couple of visits to a school that is getting ready to open. The students have been sitting under the trees for quite some time, waiting for the school to be finished. As I walked into the restroom to check on the construction I ran into a mine field, with piles and piles of poop all over the floor. The concrete floor was also stained with urine and the air was stagnant and thick. The first time I saw this I told the foreman they needed to clean up the restroom. The foreman explained that all the kids get a break at the same time so the first six or seven kids get the stalls and the rest just squat and do their business wherever they can. What?!? The next time we visited one of the restrooms had been cleaned up and locked. The other one, however still had poop mines. Walking around the side of the building the ground was covered with piles of poop as kids would go behind the building to do their business. I spoke to the principal about teaching the kids proper hygiene and the importance of avoiding disease. He looked at me and said "Oh, this is the girls' restroom." Okay...and your point is....what exactly? I guess since they are girls they can figure it out for themselves. He assured me that once the school was actually open and the kids were out from under the trees and in the building they would be taught the proper way to use the restroom. I'm not sure why he wants to wait to get them in the building but we will see.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Observations
I know, I know, it has been way too long between posts. I am pretty sure I have already lost my sixteen loyal readers. I have many posts in my head that never quite make it to the computer. The key is to have shorter, more frequent posts rather than trying to duplicate War and Peace every time I write something. So, here I sit at 6:45 in the morning watching the first game of the World Series. I was up at 5:30 and still missed the first three innings. Between watching the playoffs and catching an NFL game on Sunday nights/Monday mornings my body clock is getting seriously screwed up.
I'm not sure who I am rooting for. When I have no vested interest in the teams I just go with my gut. Last year I was rooting for Texas because I have an intense dislike for Tim Lincecum. Watching this first game my gut is telling me St. Louis...but that could change.
The weather is becoming cooler now...almost perfect. Before the sun finds it's way over the mountains the air is cool and still. Once the sun comes up it consistently makes the mid-80s which is nothing after months of temperatures over 100.
With the cooler temperatures comes a threat I was not aware of until just a few days ago...snakes. Although I have not seen one yet, I have heard of two vipers and a cobra being seen or killed on the base. Really? Isn't it bad enough that we have bad guys up in the hills, now we have to watch where we walk because there are snakes running around (slithering around)? As luck would have it pretty much all snakes in Afghanistan are posionous...sweet.
Having said that, the Afghan Jungle Cats are still around. Looking at their size, I am not too sure they are built to take on the snakes. Instead it looks like the cats and the snakes will be competing for the mice that have taken residence on the base.
This has been, perhaps, the most challenging leadership experience I have ever faced.
I have had the honor of meeting some great people...both Afghan and American.
They need more variety in their food. If the Afghans opened a good Italian restaurant, a Mexican joint or even a Chinese buffet I believe all their "sad brothers" as they refer to the Taliban would come down from their caves and enjoy a new and exciting dining experience. Before long they would forget what they were fighting about and peace would be at hand.
I have seen the fish that come out of the Kunar River and I have seen what else is in the Kunar River...a sushi place is not an option.
I believe they have already forgotten what the fighting is all about.
Yesterday I came out of a meeting at the Governor's Compound. There was literally a line waiting to ask me for something. As I walked out I could see they were nicely spaced about every ten yards or so along the path they knew I had to take to get back to my vehicle. I would speak to one group/person, walk about ten yards and be stopped by the next request. Everything from tribal elders asking about a road to the Cricket Association asking about outfitting their teams with new equipment. Who will they wait in line for when we are gone?
St. Louis won Game One. I am good with that.
More later...
I'm not sure who I am rooting for. When I have no vested interest in the teams I just go with my gut. Last year I was rooting for Texas because I have an intense dislike for Tim Lincecum. Watching this first game my gut is telling me St. Louis...but that could change.
The weather is becoming cooler now...almost perfect. Before the sun finds it's way over the mountains the air is cool and still. Once the sun comes up it consistently makes the mid-80s which is nothing after months of temperatures over 100.
With the cooler temperatures comes a threat I was not aware of until just a few days ago...snakes. Although I have not seen one yet, I have heard of two vipers and a cobra being seen or killed on the base. Really? Isn't it bad enough that we have bad guys up in the hills, now we have to watch where we walk because there are snakes running around (slithering around)? As luck would have it pretty much all snakes in Afghanistan are posionous...sweet.
Having said that, the Afghan Jungle Cats are still around. Looking at their size, I am not too sure they are built to take on the snakes. Instead it looks like the cats and the snakes will be competing for the mice that have taken residence on the base.
This has been, perhaps, the most challenging leadership experience I have ever faced.
I have had the honor of meeting some great people...both Afghan and American.
They need more variety in their food. If the Afghans opened a good Italian restaurant, a Mexican joint or even a Chinese buffet I believe all their "sad brothers" as they refer to the Taliban would come down from their caves and enjoy a new and exciting dining experience. Before long they would forget what they were fighting about and peace would be at hand.
I have seen the fish that come out of the Kunar River and I have seen what else is in the Kunar River...a sushi place is not an option.
I believe they have already forgotten what the fighting is all about.
Yesterday I came out of a meeting at the Governor's Compound. There was literally a line waiting to ask me for something. As I walked out I could see they were nicely spaced about every ten yards or so along the path they knew I had to take to get back to my vehicle. I would speak to one group/person, walk about ten yards and be stopped by the next request. Everything from tribal elders asking about a road to the Cricket Association asking about outfitting their teams with new equipment. Who will they wait in line for when we are gone?
St. Louis won Game One. I am good with that.
More later...
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