And another national day

Sitting in the car yesterday night, travelling home from work, still reflecting on the international book day, I was alerted by BBC that it's actually not just the international book day, but also the German National Day of the Beer that is celebrated on the 23rd of April. Prost.

Yippie! Another International Day

I am over and over again astonished by the sheer endless amount of international days, and the amazing creativity which is put into the identification of new international days. As I just got to know by flipping through my Alertnet expresso news, today is the World Book Day . As somebody addicted to books (and to rooms with book shelves that touch the ceiling), seeing books as the subject of the day made me actually quite happy. However, seeing yet another international day also made me think a bit...

Some time ago, after stumbling over the international day for the African child, the international day for water and the world AIDS day, I went to the web to look for a complete list with international days. I managed to get a complete list of all days, weeks, and decades, featuring quite exotic days such as the world meteorological day, world no tobacco day, united nations public service day, international day of cooperatives, international day for the preservation of the ozone layer, world space week, and the international mountain day.

From my time in Somaliland I remember that some local NGOS truly specialized in facilitating the celebration of international days on behalf of the international NGOS and UN agencies, who never ever failed to provide the necessary money for these meaningful celebrations. The program was always the same, regardless of whether it was the international women's day, children's day or something else: A march through the city, spearheaded by Hargeisas' only policy band, followed by few kids with pre-fabricated banners (in English, so avoid that messages could penetrate the minds of the public...), some speeches (depending how much you paid, you could also get ministers to contribute their voice to it), a drama group (performing some acrobatics - always managed to attract a huge crowed of street kids) and of course, not to forget, the obligatory T-shirts and posters, which you would then see for a while on the streets (the only lasting effect of the day). Interestingly enough, though it was always exactly the same program, it never ever ever was implemented without delay, problems, something not working out, ...

It seems, that at least one additional international day is declared each year. But than again, who wonders - after all, our world isn't getting that much better, so maybe reminding citizens of the bad and evil in this world and how to fight it is the way to go ahead.

What I am personally really waiting for is the day when the world leaders declare the "day of the international day" ;)

Truly a success story?

Few days ago a friend of mine has drawn my attention towards an article published in the Washington post recently, talking about the success of the American success story in Khost, a province south of Kabul, on the border to Pakistan. The article, written by Richard Holbrooke, a former Ambassador to the United Nations, starts with the following paragraph:

"KHOST, Afghanistan -- This former Taliban stronghold, where Osama bin Laden spent time planning the Sept. 11 attacks, has become an American success story. The Taliban is being pushed out, and a government presence is extending into previously hostile territory. At NATO headquarters in Kabul, most of Khost has been moved out of the "red" column -- at least for now"

The article continues elaborating on the warfare tactic applied by US troops to win the hearts and the minds of the people of Khost, and concludes that more such success stories will be seen accross Afghanistan once additional Nato troops arrive in the country.

Personally, I am slightly astonished by the article. As the organization I am working for is having interventions in Khost, I know a bit about the difficulties and insecurity that prevails parts of this province, to an extend that it would be worth reconsidering keeping our people down there. Two district offices of non governmental organizations, in charge of facilitating the implementation of the NSP (National Solidarity Program, the flagship program of the Afghanistan Government, aiming at setting up community development councils in villages all accross Afghanistan), have been burned down. Staff members working on the NSP program receive threatening letters because of their support for a government program; in the same week, one school has attacked and one burned down and three guards kidnapped, besides numerous other incidents. The picture that other sources paint of Khost is a slightly different one from Richard Holbrookes glamouros depiction of the success story Khost. As written in a weekly report, "Khost continues to be volatile with most AOG activity centered in Khost Matun and Sabari Districts. For the last six months most attacks have targeted security forces, however, recent incidents and the attacks on the NSP program indicate that AOG may be beginning a campaign against humanitarian projects in the area. NGOs should consider that their acceptance has been generally compromised in these areas, especially those involved in implementing government related programs"

So, how can it be a success to "conquere" a province with foreign troops, while the government of Afghanistan is enjoying hardly any support? How sustainable can that be?

Extreme tourism

A slightly more crazy way to show the outside world that Afghanistan has many faces ... extreme tourism promo video - check the link, it's worth having a look at it!

Extreme tourism is a project of two friends of mine, featuring the unique experience of a tourist in Afghanistan. Among the highlights: BBQ with Osama (he didn't confirm his attendence yet, but my friends are working hard on convincing him about this unique opportunity of having BBQ with two crazy guys and Arsenal T-shirts for free) and a visit to Tora Bora.

Will keep you updated on the progress of the film project!

Knowing why you are here

Today I had an interview with a journalist from a local newspaper in Italy, about my stay and work in Afghanistan, my future plans and past adventures. The inevitable question during the interview was: why am I in Afghanistan? Am I here to help? To work? To run from something? To learn something? It’s a question I have been asking myself many times, without a definite answer so far.

Reading today’s news, I don’t seem to be the only one to ask “why am I here?” An interview with Jacob Kellenberger, president of the ICRC, touched on his recent visit to the US military prison in Bagram, not far from Kabul. During his visit, many of the over 600 detainees complained that they are held without knowing why for; “they do not know what the future brings, how long they will be there, and under which conditions they will be released” – he stated in the interview. Recently, an “enemy combat review board” was established, which will meet every six months to review the future of the detainees. But the body does not allow any evidence from outside, nor are hearings open to the public; the list of the detainees in Bagram is kept secret, so are the offences against which they are held in prison. Unlike Guantanamo, the Bagram military base does not allow any journalists to visit the prison. The only window to the outside world is a video conferencing system, with which detainees can communicate with their families. I wonder how that will work? Do they set up temporary video conference centers in the remote villages where these prisoners might come from? Dingle with a mobile cinema through the country?

Why are we here? At least I can choose to leave, if I don’t find the answer to these question. Prisoners, if held innocently, will have to wait for the decision of the enemy combat review board. I wonder on which grounds and evidence this board is basing its decisions.

A busdrivers' contribution to peace in Afghanistan

Schweizer Deutsch in Afghanistan

Hardly ever do I meet somebody who actually knows about this tiny place in Italy, where I am originating from, and where people speak German. We are a breed that most people have difficulties to grasp. Somehow, despite globalization and the gradual blur of culture and identities, only few people actually manage to get acquainted to the idea of Italians who speak German as a first language and Italian with a unmistakable German accent; with the result that at least once a day, I turn into a amateur history teacher, explaining in exactly five sentences the history behind my broken Italian and my Italian passport.

Waiting for the glorious moment and question to happen, I yesterday stepped into the reception of the IOM office in Kabul. For one or the other reason, receptionist love asking questions. I was there early; the person I was supposed to meet was still out for lunch. So, I sat down opposite the receptionist and two other guys who seemed to have no specific purpose in being there. So, what do you do if you have no specific task to look after? You ask the one opposite you some innocent questions. First: what’s your name? Easy: Johanna, with the J pronounced like a Y. Second question: Whom do you work for? IRC, the ones with the black arrow on a yellow background. Third question: Where you’re from? Italy. Five seconds pass by; I can feel the three guys opposite me thinking, their faces getting a surprised expression. And than the inevitable forth question: But you’re accent sounds German! Yes, that’s because I am from the German speaking part of Italy. Do you want to hear the whole story? Usually, the answer is a vague nod and a glimmer of disbelief in the eyes. Not so today. Instead of the disbelief, the guy opposite me starts smiling and replies in broad Schweizerdeutsch “Bist von Bozen?” Now it is me whose eyes nearly drop out of my face. There is this Afghan man sitting opposite me, comfortably wrapped into the Shalma Kamiz, smiling and asking in broadest Swiss German if I am from Bolzano. As it turns out, he left Afghanistan seven years ago, traveled to Zuerich, got a job in a hotel as night watchman, moved on to another Hotel and up the ladder, and is now working as night portier in a well known Zuerich Hotel, the Schweizer Hof, making more money than I do here in Afghanistan. Then he embarked in an analysis of the Swiss People. Though he likes the salary and living conditions, he thinks that Swiss people are too tight, proud and angry most of the time. Italians, on the other hand, he thinks are more like the Afghans. A bit relaxed, friendly, sometimes a bit too loud, but at the same time friend with everybody. His recommendation to the Swiss is to loosen up a bit, a message he spreads to clients during his nightshifts at the hotel. Other than that, he points out the beauty of the Zuericher lake, the craziness of the street parade, and the languages he speaks (un poco italiano, a bit of French, the German he picked up in the street, and of course his own language, Dari). With an “Aufwiedersehen”, spiked with up and downs like valleys and mountains of Switzerland, he waves me good bye, as the lady with whom I am supposed to discuss return programs for qualified afghan enters the room to pick me up.

Where gossip grows like bad weed (and were good work is hard to come by)

Few months ago, back home in Italy, I sat in a bus, listened to two old ladies talking and chatting about XYZ in our community. Interested in this phenomenon, I was at the same time quite released not to be part of these in-depth reflections on who is who and who is with whom and who is not any longer with whom (not to forget about who was born and who died). How wrong I was thinking that in a town 6000 km away from my home I could successfully dive into a pool of cool, light blue anonymity. My plan to remain a stranger outside the gossip world obviously failed. Though I spend most of my evenings with comparatively little adventeruos activities such as reading, writing or working, my early mornings with sport, and my days with desktop work and meetings, my weekends with some walks and the occasional coffee, I still seem to be unprotected from gossip. Without doing anything, I suddenly found myself dragged into ridicolous stories (will keep the details for myself). Sometimes I wonder how much more boring my life (in terms of social interactions) must get before I am finally out of this swamp of invented stories. I also wonder, if people have nothing better to do than gossip about each other in a country that isn't quite animating (at least not me) for unserious talk. Who knows, maybe its exactly this desperation that surrounds us that creates the temptation to involve in easy gossip about each others lifes, instead of focusing on the much harder task of doing serious work that actually has an impact.

All in all, I am happy that there is no vodoo in Afghanistan. Otherwise I would be really afraid, instaed of just annoyed by what other people think...

Bollywood lunch in Kabul

I know I should be working in this very moment (its 5:45) instead of writing nonsense on my blog. There is one huge proposal waiting to be polished, printed out and eventually submitted to the donor on Thursday. There are several emails I should reply to. My table is covered with papers I haven't sorted out. There is the departmental strategy I should at least attempt to get down on paper. And then, of course, there is the good old topic of my five year life plan (that one I actually happen to work on almost every night before falling asleep, just to throw it out all again and start a new the next night before falling asleep-maybe the reason why I am frequently tortured by nightmares? ;) . But what am I doing instead? I am finding any excuse not to look into above mentioned issues. For instance my lunch experience today:
Afghanistan is not the most progressive country when it comes to dress code for women, with majority of the female population still walking around behind blue curtains. Fascinatingly enough, what seems to be a tabu in the real life, is totally ok on TV. Regardless of the decades of conflict, elements of indians subcontinental movie scene and pockets of technology have reached out to Afghanistan (or at least Kabul), resulting in a combination of seminaked women and macho looking men dancing and flirting on huge plasma screens in ordinary lunch restaurants in Kabul. I call it the "Bollywood lunch". I am not a particular fan of Bollywood, but having these movies spicing up my lunch in Kabul while watching women in burka walking by the window is bizarre enough to put it on my blog - and successfully distract myself from work. How comes that we add such different standards and rules to real life and what we allow to be screened on TV? Anyhow, back to work....