Keeping Promises

Tuesday, June 30th, 10:51 am

When I first went to Afghanistan in 2003, I was asked to develop a social marketing strategy that would improve women's health. Afghanstan has one of the highest infant/maternal mortality rates in the world. One out of four women dies in childbirth and many children in Afghanistan don't live past the age of four. Those are the worst health indicators in the world.

With cultural challenges everywhere it was important to get a base-line on what was happening. An entire generation of women had not been out of the house. So it was really difficult to figure out how or if women were getting health services. It was even difficult to determine what was a clinic and what wasn't. The literacy rate was about 1% and men were still terrified to touch a woman - even to administer health services. So we travelled around the country conducting meetings about what was needed. In every clinic, in every village, in every community there were only male (men) community health workers. Many of the men were in tears trying to explain that they wanted to help the women in their villages. We all knew the answer was to train a new generation of female community health workers.

In one of the outreach sessions I asked the men to raise their hands if they would agree to go home and encourage their sisters, mothers and wives to become health workers. They all raised their hands. I wonder where they are now. I wonder if women are health workers now. I wonder if we made any impact at all.

A Happy Boy

June 29th, 2009 6:00pm
I am remembering a little boy I watched in Kabul several years ago. He was the housekeeper's son. He played joyeously in the courtyard while his mother cleaned the rooms. He had no toys, no music, no video games ... just his imagination. He danced through the trees and the rose bushes. He seemed to be the image of hope and laughter and love. I wonder where he is now. I hope he is still happy.

Thoughts about the up-coming trip

Sunday Morning, June 28th - 11:20am

... My first thought is about my last trip to Afghanistan in 2004. It was a stressful trip that ended in a spectactularly strange manner. But it paled in comparison to the events that unfolded six months later when my entire staff was killed outside of Herat as they were completing the work I had started. Since those days I have been grief-stricken, angry, confused, determined, hopeful, desparaging, proud, ashamed, anxious and calm. I've thought about the magnificent mountain views and the lavish picnics we took on our field outings. I've thought about the lovely Afghan people, the honorable community health workers, the savory food, the wild green eyes of children, the sidewalks made with cement and crushed lapiz ... and how after it rains in Kabul the sidewalks are glistening blue ...

But my memories are clouded by a feeling of guilt about the deaths of my colleagues. One of the young women was from my home town. I recruited her. Why I survived and she didn't will haunt me forever. I've also never understood how the firm that sent us all to Afghanistan five years ago could look at itself in the mirror ... much less use the deaths of these three young women to promote their business. It's been appalling to me. But that's their business now. I've moved on.

I am heading out to Kabul next week to work through a larger strategy for developing social marketing programs. This is an area where I know I can add value. I have more experience, a different team and time to reflect on lessons learned.

Today though, I need to figure out how to break the news to my mother that I am going back to Afghanistan.