Graveyard of Empires

Afghanistan has been described in many ways, with a tendency to focus on the "medieval" or "biblical" character of their development, or to take note of the fiercely independent, xenophobic and indefatiguable spirit of the Afghan warrior. This is perhaps most aptly, or at least most often conveyed by describing Afghanistan as the "Graveyard of Empires" - in reference to the repeated failure of great powers (England and Russia most recently) to absorb Afghanistan into their spheres of influence.

Whether this is a historically accurate claim, and whether the U.S. is in line for the next funeral is a topic that fuels many debates with my warrior/scholar colleagues (who BTW tend to be as well or better read on such things than any of my friends in the foreign service). Suffice to say, it's just not that simple.

Nonetheless, the phrase certainly came to mind when I was bouncing along the valley floor of one of the most problematic areas of the provinces, and the crumbling remains of a fortress allegedly built by Alexander the Great loomed above us.

On the return trip, the monument felt even more meaningful, as our KLE/meeting up the valley had left me feeling like many of the problems they faced had probably been around since the time that fortress was built.  Not enough water, neglect/disenfranchisement by central government, and challenges with agricultural yields and pricing. While courteous, the leaders were both wary of us and weary of what they saw as a long series of unfulfilled promises.

View Looking the Other Way

(and no I didn't take this picture)

Nonetheless, it was great to be out and about - even in what a friend aptly calls a "rolling bank vault".  Still, watching these timeless villages roll by, and passing donkey carts with our massive and thundering convoy, I couldn't shake the sense of not belonging, and the more sobering/relevant sense of being too distant to understand. It is the same sense of having an unbridgeable gap that could come to the surface when I talked to Cameroonian villagers and found only the most tenuous connection to bridge the yawning gaps in language, clothes, custom etc.  Food, children, music and similar topics could help open the door to shared humanity, but those are hard to come by as we roll along, briefly stopping, trying desperately to understand and help - often hoping that the smiles and thumbs-up signs which have become commonplace are sufficient to convey our intent.

City Hall - Note Snowcaps behind

Rolling in the Rain

It is always nice to get out, even when the weather isn't great.  No matter how big the base you are on, how much personal space you have, etc. there is something very visceral about the need to just get out and walk in a place not contained within walls.  While most people I know seem to share this feeling there are some who seem to have been vaccinated against cabin fever, and who are perfectly content to seldom or never go "outside the wire". In milspeak they are known as "Fobbits" (Hobbits who live on a FOB)

Bridge Over Troubled Water

While I have no desire to meet up with any bad guys, I am also very, very glad to have a chance to get out and see a bit of the country and talk to people in their own environment.  One of the most challenging things of the job is trying to make sound judgments and decisions with very little information. We take for granted how much information and context we gather just in doing our daily business, and it can be daunting in the extreme to try and contribute to efforts to say promote economic growth when you don't know from personal experience what products are sold in the markets, whether prices have been stable, or even what currency is being used (afghans often use Pakistani currency as well as their own). 

Anyhow, it was a cool and rainy day, but a good one, since it was a day outside - spent visiting USG funded projects.  First stop was hospital that is mostly complete - where we were checking on whether deficiencies noted before were being addressed correctly or not. The engineering aspect was outside both my skill set and interest, but I did have a very interesting conversation with some locals which helped explain that the surrounding village of perhaps 200 families had effectively no local employment, and was dependent on the young men who went to the bigger cities to look for work, most often in the army or police. 

Typical Middle Class Homes in Salang

This is typical for many places, and there were clear signs that while the village was not wealthy, it was growing and thriving - with plenty of kids running around (it was a local holiday). Using probably the oldest consular trick in the book, I paid particular attention to the quality of shoes, and by that standard, the kids were being pretty well looked after. On the other hand, it was a bit depressing that the main source of income seemed to be the oversized security forces of Afghanistan, which will be sustained through international assistance for a while, but which is of a size and cost that will make it hard to sustain in the long-term on the very small tax base of the Afghan state.

Not the Most Auspicious Lawn Ornament for a new Hospital...

As we left the hospital we took a moment to do some touristy things, like posing in front of an old Soviet tank that graces the front lawn of the hospital.  Then it was off to the hydroelectric plant I've mentioned before to check on progress there. It was great to see significant change (with significant work still left to do) and fun to stop by the old plant which looked like a set for Frankenstein with oversize transformers and WWII style lighting.

Old Hydroelectric Facility - Built to Last

 

Can I Get You More Rice? Or Perhaps an AK?

In perhaps my deepest dive yet into the realm of the surreal I found myself at the crossroads of two seemingly contradictory elements of the Afghan experience - hospitality and violence.

I was thoroughly enjoying a delicious and seemingly bottomless plate of rice, flatbread, chicken, and spicy soup (without fish), with a charming man with the gentle demeanor, twinkling eyes and snowy beard of Santa Claus and having a good laugh over a popular Afghan topic - firearms.

Looking out windows made of plastic wrap, because the glass had been blown out 2 months before during an attack by suicide bombers, my friend was joking about how he was glad the U.S. soldiers who had been present weren't more heavily armed at the time as they probably would have shot the compound guards instead of the intruders (who had used a time-honored ploy of dressing as Afghan police). Then his demeanor turned more serious and we waited for the translation, which turned out to be the story of how his own weapon was destroyed in the fire that followed the attack. Fortunately for me, he was looking at my military colleagues who had more instinctive empathy for the loss (and who immediately understood that the weapon in question cost about 6K - or more than many houses in Afghanistan). I was still wrapping my head around the idea that Santa was accustomed to packing heat...

Then the conversation turned to my taste in weaponry, and I explained that was not allowed to carry a weapon. This revelation produced the customary gasps of dismay and sympathy. Undeterred by a policy so foreign I'm not sure he even beleived it to be true (it is) - my solicitous host immediately offered with total sincerity to obtain an appropriate weapon for me. Surreal and tragi-comic as it was, the spontaneous generosity and concern was touching, and made for one of the highlights of my tour so far.

For the record, I declined politely and said I would borrow one from the governor if the need arose, since he is apparently now in the habit of having both the local favorite AK 47, and the standard US issue "long arm" M4 rifle. My military colleagues have also been looking out for me - and make a habit of carrying a handgun that is "battle bling" at best, but is really nothing but extra weight on a pack that can weigh up to 100 lbs already.  However, it is an accessory I am authorized to borrow if lead starts flying. I'm not sure if I am more appreciative of the extra effort they make for me, or the implication that they seem to trust me to avoid a "friendly fire" incident. Also for the record, my goal and expectation is to never find myself in need of a loan.

Lest you feel there is no hope left when guests are set at ease by the presence of firearms, I also had a pre-lunch with an Afghan general (I love that it is impolite to turn down offers of food).  When asked his age (not by me), he said, "I am 58, and have been fighting for over 40 years, but I will be young if Afghanistan can have peace".

Pilgrimage to Panjshir

It was my good fortune and pleasure to have a legitimate business reason to go to the Panjshir valley

The Panjshir valley is probably best known for its prodigal son Ahmad Massoud, who earned the title of the "Lion of the Panjshir" for the losses he inflicted on Soviet troops which made the mistake of coming into his valley.  As the leader of the anti-Taliban Northern Alliance he was widely expected to govern Afghanistan. Sadly, Al Qaeda assassinated him on September 9th 2001, making him a martyr, whose face adorns offices and windshields throughout the country.

Panjshir is also an emerging tourist destination (yes your heard me right) - based largely on the cult of personality that has built up around him, and the newly constructed Massoud's Monument (and tomb).

See - trees, water, nice road - what more can you ask for?

Paradise - complete with a Koi pond

Some of the Soviet equipment that never made it out of the valley

We were there to discuss the "transition" - which is the handover of security responsibility from the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) - to Afghan control.  In other words, we take a step back, Afghans take a step forward and take back full control of their country and destiny. Simple to say, hard to do, but there are positive things happening.

Ironically, one of the signs of success was a recent unsuccessful attack on the base. While it succeeded in sowing doubts and concerns about how the Taliban could strike deep within territory that is famously hostile towards them, the attack itself was a failure, just like the attack on the U.S. Embassy in Kabul which did resulted only in cosmetic damage but captured headlines for weeks.

Anyhow - the change in venue was invigorating, and while I've pretty well mastered the tricks of getting in and out of the 4 point harness, I still can't get in a helo and feel the ground fall away and the green fields and brown mountain tops open up without taking a mental picture (and often a regular one) and thanking the higher power for having landed such an awesome job.

The most upsetting damage for residents was to the b-ball hoop

 

Winter on its way

From Elephants to Cell Phones - Amazing Progress Underway

As Americans and children of the electronic age we are hard-wired to expect progress to be rapid, measurable and almost visible. Raised in the age of "planned obsolescence" we expect our cell phone to need an update on a monthly basis and to last a year or two before it is hopelessly outdated.

It should therefore not be a surprise that a country that I have had described to me as "biblical" will create frustrations for soldiers and civilians who drop in for 6-12 months with a burning desire to "fix" things. Perhaps it is also because of a very human desire to assign a deep meaning to a trip that implies hardships of separation and anxiety. As is often the case, such things are viewed clearly most through the lense of youth, and my 10 year old son captured this expectation perfectly with his optimistic observation that "it sounds like you’re saving the country Dad". I was both deeply touched and a bit depressed as I wondered if this vision of my omnipotence stemmed from my effort to describe my visit to a local village irrigation project in terms he would grasp, but had perhaps come out like Rudyard Kipling's "white mans burden". On the other hand, it could be his own amplification of the tasks I face and the certainty of "success" which help him justify my absence. Regardless - it is difficult to find the right mental framework for living and working in Afghanistan, as it should be realistic about our place and role as outsiders, while still serving to explain things to "the homefront".

For similar reasons it is easy to overlook the positives here, and the ten year increase in life expectancy and tenfold increase in the number of students in school that has occured over the last decade are often overlooked. As we give our full effort to "victory" we struggle to understand why many Afghans live in mud dwellings and practice subsistence agriculture, and watch the ongoing struggle with ambivalence towards both the government and the various insurgent groups waging a violent but intermittent struggle which ebbs and flows with weather, harvest season, and other mundane concerns that take precedence over engaging the enemy.

Accordingly, it was a genuine pleasure to visit a development project that suggested the pace of progress is really quite remarkable. At the end of the 19th century the government of Afghanistan decided to develop a hydropower plant in Jabul Saraj (a few miles up the road from my base) to power what would become a major industrial center for Afghanistan, sporting textile manufacturing, agricultural processing facilities, and other light manufacturing industries.

The four massive turbines manufactured in Schenectady, NY were shipped to Pakistan, brought overland by the same routes used by NATO supply convoys, and up to the border of Afghanistan. From there, the roads and vehicles were unable to handle the multi-ton machines, which were then loaded onto a team of elephants to take them over several hundred miles of rugged terrain. After their arrival and installation they have been in service for a century with only rudimentary and erratic maintenance, though their output eroded steadily to a point where only minor residential needs are now met by the facility.

Don't Build 'em Like They Used To...

Just below the old plant a new structure is rising which will hold five new turbines, each of which is capable of producing a fairly modest 500 kw - or enough to power the same number of U.S. homes. Nonetheless, if it were hooked up to the current electrical grid this output would literally melt the wires and blow out the nearest transformers - as it represents a 50 fold increase from the current flow.

Given that a key factor in the evaporation of industrial activity in the area was the loss of reliable and affordable electricity - it is exciting to be part of bringing back an essential ingredient for economic growth. The harder part will fall to Afghan investors and leaders to harness, channel and maintain the energy flow, but that has happened before and is underway now.

Anyhow - I'm missing the pics for this outing - but am going to throw it on anyhow - and plan to clean things up later so my momentum keeps up...

New Favorite Acronym

First – a big thanks to the nameless, but wonderfully ego-inflating reader who kindly asked “what happened?”

Luckily, R+R happened. That would be Rest and Recovery, or Rest and Relaxation, or Regroup and Recharge or any other two R words that imply getting out and chilling out.

Suffice to say that I accomplished all the R’s above and a few more to boot. That said, there is a reason why R+R exists, and why I’m already planning my next one. I will also note that while extremely generous (thank you again dear taxpayers) my R+R did started well after my last blog, and ended well before this one.

My Other Home Sweet Home

First, paradoxically, R+R becomes more needed after the effort needed to go on R+R.  As I’ve alluded to before, I am something of an “Army of One” in this job, and the very process of going on leave and making arrangements (in most cases) for ongoing activities was exhausting and required whatever diplomatic finesse I might have acquired in the last decade plus of my experience in the Foreign Service.

Secondly, the military axiom that “tactics are for amateurs but logistics is for professionals” was doubly true for me as I had a series of trips and events leading up to my departure which made for an insanely complicated pattern of moving from truck to helo to truck, dropping a bag, hopping another truck, grabbing pre-packed luggage, another truck, another helo and finally a plane to Kabul where my commercial flight picked up.  Being the semi-professional that I have become, I was glad that I had laid fallback plans, as it was plan C that finally got me on my way out at the last possible hour before I would have lost my flight and been back to zero.

Suffice to say that it was surreal to start the journey sitting in a Blackhawk helicopter waiting for an F-16 to clear the runway to looking out over the manicured lawns and pools of suburbia.  The trip back was equally frenzied with various events leading me to spend each of my first five nights back in Afghanistan in a different location. Luckily, while it is impossible to ever truly master the shifting labyrinth of systems and personalities that make up my work world, and which allow me to move from place to place – it was refreshing to return to Kabul, Bagram, and my own PRT and knowing how and where to find a meal and a shower, and who I needed to talk to get a ride to my next destination, or (more importantly) a cup of coffee…

Sadly, the war was not won (or lost) in my absence, but the seasons marched on and “fighting season” is drawing to a close as the snowcaps that now dot the horizon start to creep downward.  The wind is also back with a vengeance, and I expect that the soccer games and afternoon walks will soon be a thing of the past.

Coming Soon to a FOB near you - snow
 

Anyhow,  despite the wicked work hangover it was great to recharge, remember what we have, and come back with new energy and perspective.

Up next – the story of elephants, New England and Cap’n Crunch.



Who'd a Thunk?

As I may have mentioned before, life here often borders on the surreal - and occasionally goes deep into that territory as it did today.

This morning I found myself sitting next to Afghan villagers in the front row of a viewing pavillion overlooking a soccer field where Korean soldiers were putting on a welcoming ceremony featuring traditional drums and Tae Kwon Doo dancing as the pre-game show. In the background huge armored vehicles rolled along, bringing in US soldiers from a neighboring base who came to tailgate (they had plenty of steak, but no real beer). After the kick-off, the traditional "olay, olay olay olay olay" song was put on the speakers (you know the one I mean) -  followed by traditional afghan music, while the sidelines buzzed with fans, most notably a rowdy group of Korean soldiers with an afghan flag who decided (or perhaps had been ordered) to cheer for the visiting team...

Needless to say, I had a blast - and enjoyed watching a great match that ended in a 1:1 tie.

Traitors!!!  or maybe just nice guys

It was great to see the soldiers enjoying themselves as well, as the security posture here tends to be quite high.  That's a nice way of saying that on the spectrum of bored minimum wage stadim guy checking for beer bottles and power tools on one end to TSA: Xtreme Edition cavity mappers on the other. We tend towards the latter. They made a lot of effort to bridge a huge cultural gap, and the afghans were visibly pleased.

As something of a third-party to the basically Afghan-Korean exchange, I had the chance to observe some of the more amusing aspects of the day. My favorite was the reaction of the afghans to the korean food that was offered alongside a traditional (and more appealing) afghan lunch of naan (flatbread) and lamb kabob. While the sticky Korean rice and (to my surprise) the kimchi was well-received, each and every afghan I saw was having a polite laugh over the spicy seafood noodle dish. They pointed at the chunks asking me to explain, in Dari, what the ingredients (octopus and shrimp) were. Regrettably, neither of these animals is among the 20-30 vocabulary words I have mastered - so I was pretty happy that with a lot of gesturing and emphasis on "big, big water" -  they eventually understood that shellfish are not native to Afghanistan.

My second favorite moment was watching the afghans watching the two female members of the Korean Tae Kwon Doo team. While somewhat more discrete than the likewise appreciative US audience, (who I have known to show their cultural sensitivity by cat-calling based on glimpses of ankles) more than one afghan stood to get a better view, and may not have blinked during the entire show.

Tricks and HIGH Kicks

In short - it was a really enjoyable day - far preferable than the one had by my colleagues in Kabul who (thank you for asking/checking) are all fine - but who spent their afternoon/evening in "hardened structures" while the attack/publicity stunt was resolved.

In closing, I would note for the record that cat-calling, however enthusiastic and colorful it may be, is generally ineffective when done from inside an MRAP.

The Afghans also seem to like the "Fighting" pose

Getting in Good with the Green Suits

I've had a chance to spend some extra time with my green suit friends off the Korean PRT, and while I miss Tae Kwon Doo class, and the sticky rice at every meal (that is actually not tongue-in-cheek-BTW) it has been tremendously satisfying to bond with my fellow americans - particularly since I'm a diplomatic island among a sea of gun-toting green suits.

Dinner with New Korean Colleagues



I am convinced that by embracing and decoding two central tenets of military life I have somehow become more acceptable to my colleagues. As my faithful readers know, and any new readers can see in the side column, I have dedicated myself to mastering the art of acronymology. Additionally, while I am still in need of the 3 day training course (again not kidding) that my military colleagues got on PowerPoint, I have practiced working on my "slide decks" - mostly by stealing from the immense numbers of crazy-good presentations that are in circulation.  My epiphany came last night as I was struggling through what I must confess was a pretty lame slide trying to cram my verbiage into the proper box using the regulation sized font. Without even noticing it I dropped some juicy acronyms IOT make the text fit. Then I realized that the acronym addiction is actually a defense mechanism that has evolved ISO PowerPoint... IOW the poor guys are just trying to get the dumb slide done and can't do that Hemingway-style.

Anyhow, it's a lot of fun to hang out here as an only slightly-persecuted minority. The military has a good sense of humor, and (witness the photo) keeps a surprisingly Feng Shui environment. It is tiring to share the same few hundred square feet, seeing the same people in the cube next to you, at the dining hall, in the gym, by the shower, and next to you at the "internet cafe" which is the skype (and blog) bridge to the outside world.  Of necessity, they are very good at being friendly and engaged 95% of the time, and studiously oblivious/disengaged when their neighbor is having an emotional chat with family, arguing with a credit card company, doing some ahhh personal shopping online, or otherwise in need of personal space. In the absence of actual privacy, it is instead created by the unspoken agreement and comraderie of the troops. It's pretty effective actually - though I see it is vulnerable to ruination by a bad apple or two.

Feng Shui Meets Afghanistan



At any rate - I'm happy to have the variety of companionship, and as a joint US-Afghan facility I have the bonus opportunity to spend more time with "real afghans" - which is rewarding in both personally and professionally. More on that later.

Typical Meeting with GIRoA

Beautiful Rain

As I approached my two month mark in Afghanistan I decided that while I'm all for sunny days, I am also in favor of clouds and rain.  I know there are far hotter, sandier, dustier places all around me, and feel lucky to have landed in the relatively temperate climate I live in. Nonetheless, I was still very glad when my first Afghan raindrops began to fall. After turning my face to the clouds and feeling the cool moisture I realized that it was full of dirt and pollution from nearby Kabul, and I headed inside. The day of rain both dropped the temperature and removed the haze of dust that hangs over what I am coming to think of as my valley. 

Before

After

(and JICUWW that's an Afghan Police vehicle not my ride)

Luckily, I had a chance to head up into the mountains before the dust cloud rises again, and enjoy the notably greener scenery. It was an enjoyable ride with my U.S. military colleagues who have won their place as my preferred escort service (please don't take that the wrong way) by A: enjoying the ride themselves and keeping up a steady stream of comprehensible if often nonsensical commentary B: always having some tunes running in the background.  As is often the case I was crashing their party, making use of their transport to get to places and people that are of interest to me in my focus on governance and development (gov/dev). However, the line between security and gov/dev gets blurred early and often here, and I'm often able to pick up useful gov/deve information from "security" contacts, and pass on information of use to my military colleagues that I picked up from gov/dev contacts.  While things are never perfect and there are times when information doesn't flow - I have been extremely pleased and impressed with the effort and results of the USG here in sharing resources, information, contacts and "airtime" during KLEs to help each other get their respective (and interlocking) jobs done.

My Colleagues at Work

One of the more interesting questions we face is how to support the efforts of GIRoA in places where their hold on authority is tenuous (or worse). There is a constant pressure and temptation to offer solutions and resources, and an equal and opposite pressure to apply a rigorous reality/sanity check on those good intentions we have given both the lessons of history and the reality of our limitations and end goal of supporting GIRoA not supplanting them.

I continue to hope that I will not use my (now stale) previous training as an EMT, but in my dealings here I HAVE found myself clinging to the mantra of first responders.

 "First do no harm"

Getting Ready to Dismount 

Final note for my valued colleagues: JICUWW = just in case you were wondering

A Day in the Life

I've got a few things I've been meaning to write about, but I lack both the intellectual energy, and the right photos to go along.

Consequently, you're getting stuck with a boring post about a regular day - and the fun, frustration and monotony that make it Afghanistan.

An average day starts at 0600 on the irregular occasions when I have the mental discipline to get up when my alarm goes off.  More often I torture the other residents of my building (which is surrounded by rocket-proof cement barriers, but has pretty flimsy inside walls) by hitting the snooze until somewhere between 0700 and 0730.

On a day of good mental discipline, I will get out for a run, circling the large compound and trying to psych myself up for the substantial slope that is really a gratuitous insult given that we are already at over 5,000 feet.  By 0530 you need sunglasses, and by 0730 you (by which I mean I) don't want to be starting a run, as it's getting over 90 and the wind is kicking up.

View On a Clear Day

By 0800 I've usually gotten full enjoyment from what, I will simply call generous arrangements for handling my daily ablutions, during which time I take pity on colleagues who walk substantial distances (uphill both ways barefoot in the snow) to use less functional facilities. Then I start my commute to work.

Approximately 47 seconds later I have unlocked my office door and settled into my office.

 A More Average Day - but a Better Viewing Angle

I then start the process of trolling through four, yes four, different computer systems plus additional databases to collect and disseminate information. There are actually good reasons for this, and I can't complain too much, since a good portion of what I "bring to the fight" is an ability to access, prioritize, analyze and utilize information from these various sources to provide new insights and guide decisions on how we promote governance and development in my AOR (Area of Responsibility).

The "fog of war" can most definitely extend to the areas of governance and development which I cover, so sorting out what is a worthwhile endeavor and what is a an attractive sounding, but ultimately fruitless effort can be quite difficult. With challenges in moving around, people changing jobs, and speaking various languages, getting the government, a community, and the foreign entity and associated military contingent on "the same sheet of music" can be taxing. Luckily, there's not that much else to do. 

Garden Art

One of the nicer things to do is eat, which I do regularly. The astute reader will notice that I didn't mention breakfast at the cafeteria.  I can explain in three words.  Banana soy milk.  OK, it's not much of an explanation, but my morning is based on BSM (I am now creating acronyms for the sole purpose of confusing military colleagues who are so accustomed to not knowing an acronym that they usually just nod along). BSM is a heavenly concoction that arrives by the case, and which is NOT favored by my green-suited brethren who prefer the vanilla and chocolate varieties. As a result, I have an unlimited supply, which I use to put on my breakfast cereal, and in my morning coffee.

Lunch and dinner I'm at the DFAC without fail - chopstix in hand. There is rice at every meal (including the breakfast I usually skip) which I always have, and soup, which I'm sorry to report I only rarely have. Having never been much of a soup guy, not gotten the "fish bug", and often having no need to add calories by the time I reach the soup station at the end of the buffet, I only take advantage when I can A: accurately identify the contents as non-fish, non-intestine, non-kneecap gristle, you get the point - and B: confirm that the spice they almost always put in it is four alarm or below...  Soup issues aside, I have not yet struck out in the buffet lottery, and there is usually one or more exceptional dish, most often featuring my youngest son's favorite delicacy, shrimp.

Working day part 1 usually runs to about 1600 - when it is time for PT.  I am now in the enviable position of having two excellent PT options that not only provide good exercise, they offer the far more critical social pressure to show up and do the exercise. My long-term commitment is to a Tae Kwon Doo class with an excellent and very patient instructor who is gracious enough to offer the instruction in return for nothing more than some pointers on his strong, but occassionally accented english. The alternative is an afternoon soccer match with the ROK military.  Despite my miserable soccer skills, this is an enjoyable alternative, as it both broadens my ridiculously small social circle here, and helps develop civ-mil relationships. As bad as my ball handling is, I can still outrun most of the others, and at least get myself between the ball and the goal.  Of course the end result of that during the last game was accidentally getting my hand in the way of the ball and giving the opposition a penalty shot and goal...  Oh well

Anyhow - after exercise, a shower and dinner, work phase 2 kicks in, with a review and report of the day and preparation for events the next day.  Phase 2 is livened up by calls home, working on personal projects (like this one), and general goofing off.  On weekends (which I declare and cancel arbitrarily for myself) I catch a flick using a projector intended to stave off withdrawal symptoms among my military colleagues whose addiction to PowerPoint is something I am slowly coming to admire.

Then it's back to my hooch for a bit of reading, and lights out.  G'nite

 I just like this picture

Training Time

Out of order - but you were warned...

Many of my friends have asked about the training we get before going to Afghanistan - something that I have a neglected to fully report. Before getting to the sexier field training, we have two weeks of more normal classroom fare.

After the first hour or two of class the novelty of talking about going to a conflict zone begins to wear off, and the usual dynamics take over (you start plotting the next cup of coffee, question whether you can get away with a little texting during a boring lecture etc.).  The class members themselves kept the boredom factor to a minimum, as there was a huge array of ages, agencies and ranks represented, with State and DOD being the majority stakeholders. While there was no single stereotype, there were definitely some groupings, including a repeat offender group of civilians who had been to Iraq and or Afghanistan, often several times, then the friendly farmer types (that I'd group myself in) of folks (often from USDA) who were more comfortable in jeans getting their hands dirty than behind a desk, the military of course played to its type, excellent posture, serious demeanor when posing 3 point questions, obligatory jokes about competing services, clearly bemused and sometimes frustrated by their civilian counterparts, but friendly and accessible during breaks.  As different a group as we were, I am convinced that one of our most gung-ho Marine colleagues spoke for the vast majority of the more constrained "suits" when he made an impromptu speech about his conviction that being American meant trying to help this struggling nation.  In short, it was a stirring and comforting feeling to be part of an immensely talented group of people undertaking this mission, and a gratifying but sobering one that the vast majority of speakers began or concluded their presentation by thanking us for our service.

This rousing speech bouyed my spirits until we got to the invasion of Afghanistan by the Mongol Hordes, which is a good thousand years worth of misfortune, exploitation and foreign occupation.  Sadly, the history of this unfortunate country continued in the same vein for another millenia or so, with only short pauses in the nearly constant skirmishing that happened either because of Afghanistans position along major geo-political fault lines (stuck as a buffer between major powers), due to ethnic feuding, or between the "central government" (defined as Kabul) and tribesman when the government attempted to exert real governing control.  Then came recent history - which sounds entirely too much like the old song played in fast forward.

While genuinely disheartening, the history lesson has also proven more useful and relevant than in many past postings.  It also plays a role in why it is so hard to answer questions about whether Afghanistan is advancing/stabilizing/developing (add adjective of choice). It is country that has survived and repelled the invasions of great powers, but which has seldom had governance outside the capital in a form recognizable to most Americans. This makes for big questions, such as how to interact with and support institutions that occupy the political space we instinctively think of as state and local governments, but which have neither a history of performing the function of those entities, nor a clear political mandate or capability to do so.

In discussing my assignment I am often struck by impatience I hear, and the implicit or explicit question of why the Karzai government is as dysfunctional as say, Congress and the President negotiating a budget deal :)  But really, we would do well to remember that the Constitution that we are so (justifiably) proud of and quick to propose as a solution to other countries problems, was ratified thirteen years after the Declaration of Independence, and after our first governmental structure (Articles of Confederation) had proven unworkable. I'm not saying that is the case in Afghanistan, I'm just reminding my countrymen that our own history, with armed rebellions against central authority (Shay's Rebellion) suggests that patience is needed in any endeavor of this scope.

OK off the soap box. In short, the training featured an impressive array of speakers with very helpful information, together with the occasional death-by-PowerPoint session.  One of the more memorable segments was done by our medical unit, who noted that the stress, confinement and seperation from family often causes distinctive behavioral patterns. It seems that there are five possible outcomes from an assignment.  One normally becomes one of the following:

CHUNK 

(overeating - or eating like you're 25 and exercising 3 hours a day)

HUNK

(stress relief via vigorous exercise)

(this is what we diplomats would call a "notional" picture)

SKUNK

(letting it all hang out)

DRUNK

(spending all your time hanging out - best I could do...)

MONK

(hangin out all alone - which is A-OK when you've just been supplied with an awesome Lego fighter kit!)

I roundly rejected the hypothesis, and have instead become a SCHMONK (it helps that FOB-Tiger is "dry")

Perhaps the most impressive feature of the training program is related to the administrative nightmare that is part of any move/job transfer. Some wise and kind soul had the idea that folks going to Afghanistan, Iraq and similar posts have enough to deal with in preparing for their assignment, getting family established and saying farewell, dealing with shipping cars, pets etc. etc. etc. - and could use a bit of help in dealing with the huge number of additional complications that come with these assignments.  These include extra training, complications with "bidding" (obtaining our next assignment), multiple visa applications, arranging travel to military installations, and a raft of human resources paperwork dealing with everything from "danger pay", to completing a Dept of Defense mandated "Internet Security for Dummies" course - which closely resembles the Dept of State "Internet Security for Over-Educated People who Should Know Better -But Regularly Prove They Do Not" program. 

So - this unsung bureaucrat set up an HR SWAT team that deals with us troublesome "AIP" (Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan) folks. We are all assigned a "technician" who responds quickly and in comprehensible english to our key concerns, like whether the ban by the United Arab Emirates on any knives or military-style equipment applies to an heirloom straight edge razor. (not my question if you're wondering). However, the key to the program is an afternoon paperwork blitzkrieg, in which they assemble about 20 of us in a room and hammer out a dozen or so forms that we would normally either deal with ourselves or complete after arriving at post.

What is really remarkable about the program of course, is that it is remarkable, and not a standard way to handle transfers.  Oh well, I'll chalk it up as another perk of the assignment, with a big thanks to my rock star of a tech, who contributed greatly to preventing a case of pre-deployment PTSD.  THANK YOU!

Back to School

As a parent, one of the great joys in life is watching your children go to school (and knowing that you no longer have to).

Nowhere is this more true than in Afghanistan, where a full generation was basically without educational options, particularly if you were a girl.  Since the fall of the Taliban, the focus on education has been intense, and the needs overwhelming. As security takes hold, and development begins to happen the ravenous appetite for knowledge has exploded, and families make huge sacrifices to offer their children what they hope will be a path to a better life.

Outdoor Classroom

Overall, education is one of the unsung victories here, and massive progress has been made. Afghanistan is not only full of new classrooms, desks, and other school supplies, but has trained a huge cadre of teachers and been developing an administration to manage the huge task of educating something like half of its population which (if I remember the statistic correctly) is under the age of 15.

Accordingly, it was a genuine pleasure to visit a girls school that the ROK PRT had selected as a project. Currently, the school is comprised of ten connex's (shipping containers), a handful of tarps, twenty teachers, and a collection of battered benches and desks. The 1200 students come in two shifts, walking up to four kilometers to school, and quentching their thirst by scooping muddy water from an irrigation canal behind the facility. 

Crossing Guards - Afghanistan style

We met with the principal and local officials and elders who were eager to begin construction, but who were unfailingly polite and gracious hosts. They explained one of the challenges facing them, which is that as security improves more children stay in school longer, generating intense demand.  Although they had concerns, they proudly reported that they had the first graduation in the history of the school with 90 students completing their studies, and expected that number to rise rapidly in coming years.

The community had pooled their resources to purchase land for the school, and was pleased to give us a tour. As I hope the pictures show - it is stark but a beautiful site, with the mountains to one side and dusty farms on the other. If all goes according to plan a school that will provide for 2000 students could be ready by the end of 2012.

As you would expect, our MRAPs and soldiers drew a crowd of curious children (and adults) who we tried with varying success to engage in small conversation, torn between the desire to try to "show the flag" and gain some understanding of local perceptions and dynamics, and the urge to be a tourist and take pictures of the adorable kids, quaint donkey-drawn carts etc. etc. Mostly, I tried to stick by an interpreter, and use the zoom to grab some shots when there was a lull in conversation or we moved from place to place.

School Site

Soon enough we piled back into our extra thick tin cans, and started the long and uncomfortable ride back to base, where we had a quick huddle, gave a cheer I understood not a word of, and took a group photo Korean style - which is to do the first photo with a simple smile and the second with upraised fist. (I haven't found the photographer yet, but I'm certain this blog will be well stocked with shots featuring the "fighting" pose).

On the Road Again

After the disturbing tragedy of the "complex" attack on the governor's compound in nearby Charikar, and the scramble to ensure that my local employees who have been working there were safe (they were) and have everything we can provide to help them deal with the situation I was pretty tired.  However, in light of the courage and dedication they have shown in forging ahead and denying the Taliban even the victory of delaying their work, I felt a duty to continue as well, and hit the road again.

Pushing out into new territory, I had a chance to see more of the stunning valleys and rivers that allow Afghans to carve a living out of the rocks and dirt that dominate the landscape of Afghanistan.  We follow the thin green belt along the valley floor, keeping watch, and sometimes being watched from the sheer rock faces that rise to the sides.

Although the scenery is breathtaking (despite the fact I get it only in tiny snippets from my position in the back of the monstrous vehicles we travel in), travelling is slow, hot, bumpy and generally seems designed to remind me that I am no longer in my twenties, (nor thirties).  On the positive side, as I was again out with my "fellow 'mericans" I could enjoy the good-natured teasing, joking, insulting among the crew that resembles the dynamics on sports teams, fraternities, firefighters etc. whose sometimes relentless harassment of their colleagues is a form of what is known in our home as "boy love" - where affection is also known to take the shape of a fist... Fortunately for me, as I am something of a novelty for them being both a civilian and a generation or so removed from many of them, I am spared both the teasing, which I wouldn't mind, and any physical abuse they may inflict on each other, which could be fatal to those of use whose biceps are not measured in feet.

Anyhow - I was glad to have a competent and cohesive squad to ride with, and appreciated their musical choices, even if the sing-along wasn't quite up to American Idol standards.  As sometimes happens, a random song change jolted me from the experience of rolling with my new homies to suddenly being almost overwhelmed by memories of grooving out in the kitchen with the family to "I'm a Be".  I chose to think of it as bringing along those homeboys (and girl) along on the adventure.

Some highlights:

My Basic "Battle Rattle"

which I hope never to field test, and which is heavier than it looks

Typical Hills in Afghanistan

the white line is a road

Curious Kids at the Corner Grocery Store

Abandoned Tanks from Soviet Invasion

(Yes It's Hard not to Dwell on Afghanistan's Reputation as the "Graveyard of Empires") 

will try to get better pictures another time

Summertime at the Riverfront

Hard to see, but kids from the village to the left are swimming in the river.