Kabul
I had a frustrating day. My feet are cracked and dry and permanently dirty. No matter how many showers I take I am always filthy. Kabul has no clean sewage system. So the best we can do is add chlorine in our water tanks. But the fecal content of the water is outrageous. So even when I turn on the shower it smells like poop.
Meeting with my American colleague today didn't help. They are in analysis paralysis and have begun snarling at each other. Their 'debates' have taken on a nasty tone. A funny thing happens to ex-pat consultants in the field - particularly in war zones. At about the third week everyone starts snapping. The slightest thing triggers an argument. I know for me, I've suddenly become pissed off about the weird crown molding in my room. The fact that I'm hot-flashing every fifteen minutes, I have had diarreah since I arrived, my feet hurt, I'm dressed like a sack of potatoes every day and am followed by heavily armed guards doesn't help. But really, I feel a bit off today.
By stark contrast, the Afghans here continue on like gracious, articulate, gentle, humanitarians. We must seem like the Keystone Cops to them. I mean look at these guys! Poya and Omer continue coming up with creative ideas for how to end domestic violence. They translate all our meetings, write our Power-Point presentations, schedule our meetings and basically do everything. And they get paid peanuts. Yet they remain positive hopeful and professional. Every time I think about my stinky feet and the poopy water I need think about these lovely young Afghans. They show up clean, calm and well mannered every day and they go through immense challenges every day here. I hope tomorrow brings a new perspective.
