Farewell

So today I wrap up my 2 and a half week journey to Afghanistan and head back to Canada this afternoon. I can't say that I've gotten a full taste of Afghanistan, but I hope that I've at least gotten one step closer. On my last day, I decided to wander the city and be amongst the people of Afghanistan (at least those of Kabul). It is hear that poverty is most rampant, and where international aid seldom ever reaches. Despite the poverty and cold weather, people are out in the markets and streets creating opportunity for themselves. The Kabul river cuts the middle of the city, and it a shocking sight. It is so horribly filled with garbage that garbage rather water constitutes the majority of the river. And yet the river is still used for everyday activities such as cleaning (I won't go as far as to saying for drinking). A most interesting sight I saw was a person's house at the side of the river, amongst all the pollution.

The further into the market one gets, the more removed one becomes from the upper echelons of Afghan society. Here people sell even pieces of toilet rolls to make money. Kabul's main mosque is near the market and though it is a decent structure, its surroundings are in a terrible state of disrepair - I can't tell whether it is natural or from the many wars, though I would venture to guess it is a mixture of both. Life may be a day to day ordeal, but it is one where people get by.

The people Afghanistan, as my guesthouse worker told me, are like a person's fingers - all different in sizes and expectations. Historically, Afghan people have been known for their hospitality, and though there are those who cause trouble, one can't simply brush aside the good nature of the former. It's clear that I've been very fortunate in my trip in meeting generally good and hospitable people, including those people in the village on my way to the North (who constitute some of Afghanistan's poorest people). I pray for this country, and hope that its people's aspirations can rebuild the nations after so many generations of war, and I am cautiously hopeful. A paradise can be reborn.

At Work

The majority of my days are spent in the office, so I thought it would be just fair to speak of the work that goes on.

As I mentioned earlier, the organization I work at is called the Women and Children's Legal Research Foundation. It focuses on research on back practices affecting women and children as well as advocacy to spread awareness to the women who are affected. The work progresses slowly but steady. The office research life is definitely a huge difference from the faced paced, dangerous on-the-ground work that needs to be done to secure peace (and dialogue) in the south where the fighting continues. However, the work we do is necessary for eventual change, and thus has kept me on board for my time here. The work uncovers a never-ending pile hugely atrocious problems. Here are a few (don't worry, I'll try to have a point afterwards). In one case, a husband got angry at his wife for going to a party (which she had gotten permission from him to go to earlier) so he saved her head bald, and then cut off her hears and nose. In another instance, a man killed someone over a water dispute and so his niece was given to the deceased family - a practice known as bad. After three years, she escaped but was later capture by the father-in-law and then murdered. In yet another case, a shepherd was not fully able to protect an owner's sheep which were attacked and killed by wolves, and since he did not have enough to repay the owner, he gave his sister to the owner.

The first step to solving a problem is identifying the problem, and the getting to into roots so in can be uprooted (rather than a surface approach). Generation after generation, tribal tradition pass down. The pervasive tribal law is largely viewed the sharia itself (though the practices it endorses may go wholly against it). Tradition, especially with rampant illiteracy and of course vested interests, can be terribly difficult to alter. Next, it must be recognized that there is no one set tribal law. The practice of bad is not practiced by all groups - it is more dominant in the southern Pashtun dominated Afghanistan versus in the center of the country. The frequency of problematic practices cannot really be ascertained without any large estimation since many tribal norms are virtually impermeable to external scrutiny - there isn't even a systematic analysis of the tribal and customary laws that exists in any writing. However, with education more statistics are being created. One research project I worked on concerned divorce. With a new Afghan Independent Human Right Commission and Family Court in each province, women can are now more able to go to court and institute a judicial divorce. Of course, the courts are often very patriarchal, and moreover there are huge social implication of divorcing. So change is slow and needs to be comprehensive, respecting the idiosyncrasies the complexity of the situation.

Corruption makes things doubly difficult. Last night a pair of police wanted to get money off of myself and a friend (Afghani at that) since... well since it was the thing to do... luckily one police changed his mind soon thereafter. Though the country as a whole doesn't face such good luck. In my short time here I've see so much corruption here that I try not to think of it too much or else I'll get lost in confusion. The rule of law is simply not present as a mindset. Well, that's an issue that will need to be tackled, one step at a time. (on a lighter note, what unique office heating system they have ;-)...).

Video: Problems Women and Children Face

Video - Hope for Improvement

Video - Problems of Afghanistan

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Video - Mazar Sharif

Video - Heading North

The North

On Friday I began my 400 km (8 hour) voyage to northern Afghanistan.

I'm not going to lie and say it was extremely dangerous, nor will I say it was ride in the park. It was what it was - a trip to northern Afghanistan. One thing I've learned about traveling is that it best to co-opt the help of local individuals who are native to the area where one is traveling. If a native of the area gives one save passage, then one can be assured one will be safe amongst that group (and the rest is in God's hands).

My driver and his son, Amed, were friends of one of my co-workers, and they were truly traditional Afghanis to the bone. They had been to Mazar Sharif (the city in the north) a number of times and were fully acquainted with the terrain. Our journey began at 6am in the morning twilight. As we left Kabul and entered into the surrounding mountainous areas, civilization very quickly disappeared. It is hear beyond the walls of the city that Afghanistan's true character begins to show. The mountains are treacherous region, mostly because of the harsh (and freezing) living conditions, and only secondarily because of fighting warlords. The mountains are dotted with dilapidated mud houses, sheltering the rural families within. Every few kilometers, the men and children gather around the roadside in search of any work available from the passing traffic. It is in these regions where the government laws of Afghanistan scarcely reach.

As we tunneled our way out of the mountainous region, we reached more pleasant terrain resembling fields of muddy and rock, occasionally hosting the odd remains of Soviet tanks and heavy artillery. Along the way, we crossed hosts of Afghani villages with their mud houses, the women (some wearing the burqa and some not) occasionally making their presences. The rural areas are far poorer off then the city centers, not unlike most underdeveloped countries. Every few hours, we would pass a convoy of international force with "ISAF" (International Security Assistance Force) draw clearly on their side of the vehicles. I thought it someone amusing that both of us (myself and those in the ISAF vehicles) were internationals; however, their convoy really stuck out like a soar thumb in the rural Afghan terrain.

The city of Mazar Sharif (our northern destination) was not particularly impressive, but I guess everything is relative. One word describes it all - COLD (in our $50 USD room we still had to sleep with our winter jackets on at night). The city has a rich history and is a major center of the country's folklore. In the middle of the city is a mosque like structure which claims to be the burial site of "Hazrat Ali" (whereas the rest of the world views Ali, the fourth caliph of Islam, to be buried somewhere in Iraq, Afghan folklore hold him to be buried in Mazar Sharif). And asking around, the people firmly believed so. Perhaps with all the unrest, believing created a sense of relief (and in any case, I wasn't interested in a heated discussion but rather decided to give tolerance the upper hand). I have to admit that at every step of my trip, the Afghanis I encountered (perhaps with the exception of some of the security forces) where very hospitable people, regardless of the ethnic group from which they hailed from.

Video - Landmines and Disability

Afghanistan suffers but dreams

Sorry if I could not respond to people individually - I really would like to but the internet situation doesn't quite allow it.

In one of my previous posts, I mentioned how the remains of war were not immediately apparent. Well, I take that back entirely. Once one steps out of the shoes of a foreigner and into the shoes of the an Afghani, war, instability, and suffering become all too present. I think I skipped over the point on electricity too quickly last time. In Afghanistan, stable electricity is non-existent. One of my colleagues gets 4 hours of electricity every two days, and my other colleague gets a luxurious 10 hours each day. This may have been manageable except for the fact that the temperature is always below zero. I have my hotel heater on around the clock, and I still sometimes need more heat. Without electricity, live become far more complicated.

I still pass the garbage dumb twice a day where I can be certain a small child or a burqa clad women will be roaming of anything that can be salvaged. As I was taken around the city, one begins to see a pattern of the rows of houses that are bullet ridden and in a deeply mired state. These houses have been damage by either the Soviet war some 15 years ago or by the more recent war to oust the Taliban. The house owners, poor and hardworking Afghans, lack the fund to make any repairs, and so the houses have remind in its state of disrepair until today. Amongst those begging on the street are the "war veterans" with their prosthetic limbs from mines and other forms of warfare. Unfortunately, not only do they not get a warm war veteran's reception, but there is not a single stable organization whose function it is to support these individuals handicapped by the war. Speaking with an individual who is engaged in de-mining activities, the countries is still polluted with landmines that go as far back as 20 years (interview attached). These mines still pose a potential threat and disable thousands of people each year.

One incredible place I got to visit was Kabul University. It was so amazing because within the poorly lit rooms and freezing temperatures, one could see high aspirations contained within the premise. The university population is about 75000 students. The conditions of the building range from decent to abysmal. Schools and universities have their holiday during the winter because there is no heating in the university. Walking through the icy library, I couldn't imagine how study would be possible in such conditions. The university has a large number of faculties such as law, Islamic law, economics, english, farsi, dari, Turkish, medicine, engineering, etc. The better off faculties are those that are funded by outside countries. Thus Turkish department gets funding from Turkey and has decent resources, whereas the english department gets no such funds and is thus a sore sight indeed.

(Pictures from top: (1) houses in the snowy mountains (2) Soviet war remains (3) a colleague in the Turkish department (4) decrepit English department)