In Lincolnshire

7:10pm-12:06am

On Afghan Suffering

I'm with Maria and Quan. Lovely British town.
Amongst beauty, centuries old art, buildings, sites.
A castle. A cathedral. Boutiques.
A family. A home. Coziness.
Garden. Flowers.
Walks. Talks. Inner peace.


Then there's everything I came with, everything Afghan.
I came to take a break, to get away.
Is that really possible?
Isn't it just like trying to cover the sun with my index finger?

Afghan suffering.
People suffering.
Women suffering.
Children suffering.
Men suffering.
A nation suffering.
Ruins, so much in ruins.
Indifference. So much indifference.
All heavy like syrup. All heavy and sticky.

I just watched an amazing documentary on life in Afghanistan during the Taleban time as well
as Post-Taleban.
It breaks me in half.
Brings me to my knees.
Makes me taste my own tears.
Makes me run to God, weep in God's arms.

Have I been too comfortable in Afghanistan?
Am I overlooking what's real?
Have I secluded myself in a bubble?

How do I focus on seeing life as clear as a water drop?
In Herat I got to see first hand villages of returned Afghan refugees who'd been living in Iran.
In Kabul I have gone out to work with associations with women members full of grief in each crease of their faces and hands.
Each wrinkle folds a story of pain and despair.
Life is truly so harsh.

Where do I come in?
What does it all mean?
What does it mean to be amongst a suffering nation? Me the outsider, the one who can always run away to a better, safer,
cleaner, spacious place?

My Father keeps me still.
He claims I am there to walk amongst them.
But who am I to get the priviledge to walk amongst those who suffer the most?
What entitles me? How dare I?

I am painfully aware of how undeserving I am to walk amongst the suffering.
I am painfully weak and easily broken.
Do my good intentions matter?
Am I part of something that provides healing?

My hope.
That is all I can bring.
That is all I can give.
Yet it seems so hard to keep it.
So easy to lose it.

So I turn to my Lord. I plead, hold my hands. Steady my steps.
I cannot carry this burden by myself.
Lead me to share. Take me to the place.
Give me peace. Keep your fire burning in me.
Let me return and be with them.

Return from Herat

Last Wednesday I flew to Herat with Nasreen Jan.
We were told the flight was at 7am. I got up at 4am, got picked up by Tor at 515, picked up Nasreen and by 6am was at the airport. We were ready for the adventure, and for me, my first time outside Kabul.
I'd been told repeated times I'd love it.
We got a man to carry our bags from the gravel parking lot(parking lot number 3) to the entrance of the airport which is a looong way if you have to carry bags yourself. You have to go though 3 parking lots on foot.
We got to the 2nd gate, at the end of the 2nd parking lot and were told to wait, there was no one at the Kam air check in counter yet. So we're stading there. After about 8 minutes, the guard at the gate announces to us the flight has been moved to 2pm. Welcome to Kabul!!!
This is just how things run around here.
So we dropped Nasreen home, then Tor took me to the office and I worked all morning. It was actually kinda good because I got a lot of other pending things done.
At 1pm we went back to the aiport and by 3pm were taking off.
We arrived in Herat.
Another world. The real Afghanistan.
Village after village made out of mud, in wonderful shapes, dome-like roofs, they are so in sync with nature and their lives just blend right in with it.
The city itself is so much more organized than Kabul. They even have many products that are almost non-existent in Kabul. There isn't a single art supply store in Kabul and I found a most amazing one in Herat which carried everything we need for our work. Needless to say we came back with excess luggage(liek 50 kgs extra) which we didn't pay for to the airline as the person in charge just asked for 200 afghans(4 dollars) which he gave to the guard to let us go through. One more example of how things work around here. Although this time, this kind of thing worked in the benefit of our work.
This was the first week in which I could go everywhere I wanted, at any time I wanted. We went to the bazaars, did materials sourcing, went to mini-mall, the antique shops around the famous blue mosque, spent time redesigning some local Herati fabric, hand-woven by the most beautiful man I've ever seen(ok this has nothing to do with what I am talking about). I mean I just went around freely. It felt so absolutely great.
The city is clean, full of trees, and things seem to run a lot more smootly than in Kabul.
I could definately live in this city.
We gave training to over 30 women for 2 days, elements of design and color theory.
Then I spent time creating collections out of samples Darleen had ordered during her time there in July.
The food's great, I got to try Irani food as Iran is 1 hour from Herat, and we just well, had a great time.
Right now I am sitting on the couch at the CIPE compound, and I do feel happy to beback in Kabul. At the airport I felt good to be back home.
This friday I am off to London but I have a ton of things to do before that day.