Dont have much time to write what happened in between two weeks ago and now, but this text below at least gives you some idea of how I felt two weeks into my new assignment...
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After an odyssey of travels from Somaliland via Kenya to Italy I have – just over two weeks after my departure from Hargeisa - reached Kabul last Monday. An enormity of new images, vivid and intense like the colors of autumn, is swirling through my mind. Though I don’t really know how to get them down on paper (or better into the computer…), I nonetheless think its actually about time to send some updates to Somaliland, Kenya and beyond.
Leaving Somaliland was as difficult as it was liberating – difficult, since I had lived there for two years and the country, its people, its “Somaliness” (explanations to this term on my blog), my work, etc have really grown on me; liberating, because after two years, the closeness of the international community, the lack of privacy, limited opportunities to move around, lack of recreational opportunities, and so on, have become a bit too much for my own taste....
Thus, when flying out of Hargeisa, a weird mix of melancholy, lightness, excitement and relief made me laugh, while at the same time causing few lonely tears running down my cheeks. Most of the three hours in the plane I spend watching out of the window, reflecting over the two past years, and observing the constantly changing cloud formations on the sky and the dry empty river beds, that creep like endless snakes over the vast landscape between the Somalia and Kenya (one thing I never got tired off, even after tens of flights between the two countries). Looking back, I felt happy to have had the opportunity to live in a country so unique that I don’t even try to compare it with any other place I have been to.
The two days which I had in Kenya were mainly filled with going through my few belongings (foremost books) and dividing them into which should go straight to Afghanistan and which should go to Europe. Getting the woman at the post office understand the difference between Afghanistan and Pakistan (obviously she was only aware about one “stan” country, unfortunately the Pakistan “stan”) was another adventure. I must admit that I am not quite sure if my books will ever reach Kabul – I left the post office with a big Insha Allah in mind…
My stay in Italy was just nice. It had been the first time in four years that I got a chance to visit Italy at this time of the year, and extensive walks through the forest and vineyards made me realize that I have truly missed out on many things by not visiting Italy in Autumn: millions of different red, yellow, orange and green colors, sweet grapes, chestnuts, new wine, just to name some.
The pleasure was, unfortunately, of short duration: after one week only I moved on to Dubai and from there to Kabul. The flight to Kabul with KAM air (no idea what KAM stands for…) was much more comfortable than I had expected, and flying into Kabul was just gorgeous: steep mountains, wherever I looked, with the city spread like a carpet between them. The airport itself is one big construction site, but the huge amount of military stuff (helicopters, planes, etc) standing around does not really stress the reconstruction of country…
During my first drive to town I was, admittedly, a bit nervous. After all, there are hardly any good news that have made it out of Afghanistan over the last months. Without wanting it, I looked at everybody and everything in a suspicious way. Fortunately, I have since then not have had time again to think about potential dangers: from the airport I was brought straight to the office to be introduced to my staff, from there I went to the guesthouse (a beautiful building from the seventies, with huge windows, huge rooms, and interesting furniture), and over the last days I have spent most of the time trying to get a first understanding of IRCs (international rescue committee, the org I am working with) interventions in Afghanistan, to get an overview over structure and scope of my project, and to simply realize that I am here, in Kabul, and not anymore in Hargeisa. Two nights agoI had my first introduction into the expatriate scene of Kabul during a party (dear friends from Somaliland, believe it or not, they even have live bands here, and parties are attended by over 200 people!). Yesterday I had a first bargain with a carpet dealer (I eventually bought a carpet for thirty dollar, and got a picture of him for free – see attachment). My first meeting with our donors (we are actually getting money from World Bank, through the Ministry of Labor, a quite interesting set up to work with) went well, today, and in the evening I got a glimpse of Afghan Kitsch during a wedding ceremony of a national staff member: a truly bizarre mixture of Vegas, Bollywood and pieces of other things such as flower girls, never ending picture sessions, and a bit of machoism…
There are still hundreds of things I am not used to, such as living in my “own” house, in a decent distance to the office (the past two years in Somaliland I had office and guesthouse in the same compound), doing a “radio check” every evening at eight and every time I move out of the office/ guesthouse (confirming that I am still alive, I guess…) or being able to somewhat blend in simply by covering my head (there seem to be two type of styles for women here in town: trousers in combination with a short dress and head scarf, and the burka – sadly still quite widespread). I also still have to get used to head a program with thirty national staff members (luckily, they only asked me for my marital status and nationality, but avoided asking for my age!). Being able to chose between roughly twenty different restaurants if I want to have dinner out is another exciting thing. Unfamiliar so far are all these Americans who seem to flood the NGO scene of Kabul, infiltrating a – for me – new vocabulary such as “touching base” (seems to be the top runner, every second sentence contains a “lets touch base”… ;-). One thing that strikes me most, though, are the military camps spread over the town, surrounded by enormous walls and mashed wire. Today we went shopping into one of the ISAF camps, and seeing all these young guys and girls, running around in their uniforms and armed made me think about all these different angles that people have here in Kabul. Surely, they have a different perspective on Kabul than the crowd of development workers.
Before I come to an end, some updates on my blog: tough I didn’t find time yet, I am committed to continue blogging about my new duty station. I am not sure how I will call my blog, I am somehow biased towards “www.kabulog.blogspot.com”, but “www.johannistan.blogspot.com” is also quite tempting…. Or maybe www.blogistan.blogspot.com? Ah, will let you know once I have settled for one of them.
Apologies again for the long mail – congratulations for those who reached up to here – you will get a free copy if I ever write & publish a book… J
xox
to all of you & keep in touch (who knows, maybe we even manage to “touch base” one of these fine days ;-)
Johanna
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