Dear Friends,
I am home from Kabul. By the time I left, we had three major security incidents, one earthquake tremor, and I came home with ghardia (nasty little stomach thing - had to take at least one souvenir home from AF). As for redemption, it didn't happen (see post below). It will still take a Mighty Thundering Voice to get me back to Kabul - and He will have to send a chariot of fire to collect me. On a positive note, there were some good things. I got to spend quality time with my friend. It meant a lot to her that I was there - and she expressed this in words that almost made me cry. I also made some new friends - a couple with two children who will be living in Kabul, a retired English lady who lived in Kabul for 16 years and tells the most fascinating stories, and another British girl who does psychological assessments of communities. And finally, being in Kubal made me come to see how much I have come to call Pakistan home. I am so happy to be home - for many reasons but mostly just because it is home. As Dorthory says, there's no place like home. Of course, she was referring to Kanasas but I am sure she would have like Pakistan - I do.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
New List
I am a list person. Usually I make lists of things I need to do, things I need, etc. But I am starting another one - places I will never vacation again. So far I have one entry on my list - Kabul. Just in time for true confessions, I am here right now. So this vacation is not yet over - there is time for redemption but I am doubtful. I have been here a week tomorrow. I came for a wedding and a conference. The wedding has not happened yet and the conference is cancelled. I am on lock down at the guesthouse where I am staying because there have been two major security incidents in less than a week. The final straw came a little before 6 this morning. I was roused out of a sound sleep to feel the bed shaking. In a haze of sleep, I thought it was near neighbors dragging their luggage down the stairs. Then I thought my cat (safely in Pakistan at the moment) had jumped on the bed. Then I heard the word 'earthquake.' Fortunately, it was just a tremor but it was enough to make me decide that I am never coming back here again - sans a word from God and a flaming chariot to get me here. Someone commented to me before I came that Afghanistan has a mystique about it - well, I am still waiting to feel the mystique - hopefully sometime before the next earthquake hits.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
A Year in Repose
I have been thinking about this post for a while. I have an anniversary pending. On November 1st, I will have lived in Pakistan for 1 year. On November 1, 2007, I arrived in Pakistan. There were so many unknowns - where I would live, how I would do with the language, who my new friends would be.... At the age of 36, I was starting over again. I had moved many times but always within America, never internationally. So, in this life filled with adventures, this was a new one, unlike nothing I had ever done before.
So, in repose, how has the year been? It has been hard in some ways. I have come to accept that I live in a place where stepping outside my own front door is always a risk. I have come to accept that there will always be a gender divide in this place. I have learned to hope that someday it will not be as great as it is now. I have learned where the streets go - at least some of them. Stephen King said, "A place is yours when you know where all the roads go." This place is not fully mine, but enshallah, one day it will be. I have learned how to tell a taxi driver to go strait. I have learned to miss my new language, even as badly as I speak it, when I travel. I have learned to bargain and to walk away when I don't get the price I want. I have learned to remember that one does not go strait to the final price - and sometimes a cup of tea is necessary before you do business. I have learned to wear a chuddar - and to love and to hate it. I love it in the winter when it is like wearing a big blanket. I love the safety of being able to cover my face when men stare. I hate it in the summer when sweat drips and I think of the freedom that men have from this. I hate it when it slips from my head at the most inconvenient times.
I have learned to love this people for their hospitality and their kindness to a stranger. I have cherished the words of the friend who said to me "you're part of our family now" on the first night we met. I have learned to appreciate, if not always understand, the interdependence that governs these complicated family relationships. I have to come to cherish the endless cups of tea and the special status of guest in their country.
I have learned to leave this place - and to live with the risk that someday, in minutes or hours, my world here might end. I have learned to travel - to deal with foreign currency, to hail taxis various parts of the world, to listen for the best places to shop, to wear what the natives wear so I will not be hailed immediately as a foreigner. All these things take skill and time to learn - and I have just begun.
But, today, I am a little homesick. I long for a place where the currency is green and white and I know the faces on the bills, a place where my language is accepted without question. I long to be in a place where my family doesn't worry about my safety, where I can look men in the eye and still be thought of as a good woman. This things are of my home, and while I have learned to love the soil upon which I now reside, a stranger still I am.
So, in repose, how has the year been? It has been hard in some ways. I have come to accept that I live in a place where stepping outside my own front door is always a risk. I have come to accept that there will always be a gender divide in this place. I have learned to hope that someday it will not be as great as it is now. I have learned where the streets go - at least some of them. Stephen King said, "A place is yours when you know where all the roads go." This place is not fully mine, but enshallah, one day it will be. I have learned how to tell a taxi driver to go strait. I have learned to miss my new language, even as badly as I speak it, when I travel. I have learned to bargain and to walk away when I don't get the price I want. I have learned to remember that one does not go strait to the final price - and sometimes a cup of tea is necessary before you do business. I have learned to wear a chuddar - and to love and to hate it. I love it in the winter when it is like wearing a big blanket. I love the safety of being able to cover my face when men stare. I hate it in the summer when sweat drips and I think of the freedom that men have from this. I hate it when it slips from my head at the most inconvenient times.
I have learned to love this people for their hospitality and their kindness to a stranger. I have cherished the words of the friend who said to me "you're part of our family now" on the first night we met. I have learned to appreciate, if not always understand, the interdependence that governs these complicated family relationships. I have to come to cherish the endless cups of tea and the special status of guest in their country.
I have learned to leave this place - and to live with the risk that someday, in minutes or hours, my world here might end. I have learned to travel - to deal with foreign currency, to hail taxis various parts of the world, to listen for the best places to shop, to wear what the natives wear so I will not be hailed immediately as a foreigner. All these things take skill and time to learn - and I have just begun.
But, today, I am a little homesick. I long for a place where the currency is green and white and I know the faces on the bills, a place where my language is accepted without question. I long to be in a place where my family doesn't worry about my safety, where I can look men in the eye and still be thought of as a good woman. This things are of my home, and while I have learned to love the soil upon which I now reside, a stranger still I am.
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