Content

I am content here. I have learned here how to be content no matter what the situation is around me. This is not something I could possibly do on my own. No, there are many people praying and in truth, Jesus is really the one giving me contentment. But here are a few things he has showed me about how to do it.

*Enjoy life. There are way too many horribly sad things to dwell on. War, oppression, poverty. But there is also always something good to enjoy while you are working to improve the bad things. Like dancing and flowers and sweet pomegranites.

*Things change. I am working with Philippinos and Koreans here. And both cultures have told me that the situations in the Philippines and Korea were very similar to Afghanistan 50 years ago. Things will change if we continue working for change.

*Always be thankful. If you can't find anything good to be thankful for, be thankful for the bad things. I once read about two sisters who were imprisoned in a concentration camp during WWII. They had just about the worst lives imaginable. But one of the sisters decided to be thankful for the fleas that were in her bed. So she just spent some time focusing on those fleas and how thankful she was for them. The sisters had some very precious, illegal things hidden in their bunks that were never discovered. Later, they found out that the reason the Nazi's didn't discover their parephenalia was because the bunks were infested with fleas and the Nazis didn't want to touch them.

So sometimes even the things that you wish didn't exist turn out for your benefit.

Holiday

Last week was the "kochiney axter"- The Little Eid- the three days of feasting after a month of fasting. The first three days, men will visit relatives and other men friends. But for the whole month after that, it is the women's Eid. I have been to lots of new houses during this time. The picture isn't great but it is an example of what they lay out whenever you come to a house. Would you believe, all this was for just three people, me and two friends.

Everyone also has to wear new clothes and the sound of gunfire is heard for the whole Eid. This time its not the war- that's also how they like to party here. (Party, fight... any reason to fire a gun will do.) I have thought about going to the neighbor's house to ask if I can shoot their kashalnikov... but then, the shots often kill or injure people when the bullets come back down so I'm holding off for now. 

Brrr

The water (and the weather) is cooling down! 

Landscape

A friend asked for some pictures of the landscape and I have just now had the chance to take a few. We don't travel outside of our part of the city very much. But the other day I went to the American base again and here is a picture I would have shown you about the way this country seems.



Barren, dry, dusty, brown. Unforgiving. Those are the main adjectives that would stick in your mind if you visited here. And it doesn't even include the filth you usually see all over the regular streets. This is what I thought all the pictures of the landscape were going to look like.

But then, as we were driving home, we took a back road, and I saw a completely different southern Afghanistan. Before that day, I had never seen a field here, or anything that in the slightest way looked fresh and green. But then we saw this...




There were all these green fields. And clouds! There are rarely clouds here. And it was the biggest holiday of the year, so everyone was wearing brand new, fresh-looking clothes. And instead of everything being dirty and brown and depressing... for the first time, it seemed like the city had hope. It was just so beautiful. And I had to remind myself that it wasn't something we want for the future of Afghanistan... this was something we really saw! And so it was an encouraging day.



Here are the camels! Also, forgive me, all the pictures were taken while driving about forty mph. 

Henna

They do the most beautiful henna here. This is my friend who had hers done just before returning to the States. Right now I also have henna on my hands. It takes about two or three weeks to wash off. When I come home I'm bringing a lot back, so if you want yours done just let me know! 

The Hole

A few days ago, there was this giant hole in my front yard. This is the Hole.



Now the Hole is gone. After being partially filled with cement and gravel, along with four cement pillars, the hole is now well on its way to becoming the foundation for a 90 foot cellphone tower.

And why is a gigantic cellphone tower being built in our extremely tiny front yard? I'm still working on that one. But mostly because our landlord is being paid $500 USD per month to have it there, and just because this is Afghanistan. Why not? 

The Test

I want to photograph the faces of my two English students so badly and put them on here. I love these girls so much. They are the daughter and daughter-in-law of my landlord, and I spend most nights of the week with them. But they won't let me take pictures of their faces. Here is one they did let me take...



This is a picture during their big exam. After a few weeks of classes, they practically begged me to give them an exam. The funny thing is, neither of them did very well, and I have no idea why they wanted one so badly. Except that after the test, their first question was, "Who was victorious?" They really wanted to know who won. Another insight into this culture and how important honor is to them. But then I tried to talk to them about how it doesn't matter who did better, what matters is that they both learn to speak English. They ended up shaking their heads; hopefully they agreed inside, too. 

Stress

So many things are stressful here. This is just a stressful place to live. Not only the war, but also working with another culture, having many technical problems communicating with home, not to mention all the differences in the way this country operates as opposed to the way we're used to our country operating. Please be praying for me. I am not invincible and this place is just plain hard sometimes.

What to Wear...

When one of my married friends moved here, she decided that she would forsake her life as a housewife and become a ninja. It seemed better than wearing a polyester tent with eyeholes. So she started wearing this. And when she began learning the language, she found other women asking her with shock, "Your husband lets you show your eyes??"

Sorry guys, there's may be little too much EYE showing in this picture. 

My House

This is where we live. We share a house with an Afghan family. They live in most of it and we rent two rooms and a huge basement from them. Dr. H, her husband, and the J-man live downstairs, and I live in one of the side rooms upstairs. The window on the right is my room.

Many of the little streets and alleys here are really narrow, as you can see from our house. 

The Center

So what have Dr. H and I been doing? We have been seeing patients in their homes and our home while the business we are working with finishes the process of starting a center SOLELY for Afghan women. Here in this city, there is no foreign organization that offers this type of care solely for women. However, that is a huge need here. Many women in this city are not allowed to see male doctors and so sometimes no care, or only very poor care, is available to them.

Above is a picture of the building rented for the center. We are in the process of getting the center ready for business and hiring and training the Afghan women who will staff the center, while continuing to see Dr. H's regular patients. The center should open for business before I return to the States and I am very excited to see it up and running. I will post more pictures when that happens. 

For Mom

I love you Mom. 

Abuse

A few weeks ago, Dr. H was examining our landlady for disurea and she found bruises all over her legs. The night before, we heard lots of shouting through the wall and come to find out, our landlord- who I thought was a great guy- beats her. Not only this, last night I'd just finished giving her daughter-in-law an English lesson and the girl (who is about twenty) told me, "Every man beats his wife, Nazanine. Every man." I explained to her that in America, if a man beats his wife and she goes to the police, they can take him to jail. My dear friend was shocked.

The strange thing is seeing how accepting they have become of the abuse. They still laugh with their husbands, joke around with them, and by all appearances, it seems like they love them. I guess they are not that different from many battered wives in the US. Except that in Afghanistan, there is nowhere for them to go.

What's In a Name?

Here in Afghanistan I have six names. Erin is hard for them to pronounce, and everyone I've met has just given me a different Afghan name. I haven't found one that I like enough to introduce myself by it to other people, and so I am known as Nooria, Nazaka, Ghotul, Nazanine, Hamdiya, and sometimes Erin.

So, if I come home and you feel like making up a name and calling me me it, that's fine. I will just be happy if it is prettier than Ghotul.

Afghan Star

Have you ever considered auditioning for American Idol? If you have, but have been too shy, I would like to suggest an alternative that might guarantee success. Just come to Afghanistan and try the Afghan version- you could be the next AFGHAN IDOL! First of all, there are no women, (not in this city's show) so ladies, you are probably sure to win... secondly, you will be the only one singing instead of chanting about Allah... and thirdly, doesn't being judged by men in turbans sound like an interesting experience regardless? I mean, what will their comments about your singing really be?

How I wish you could have seen it. It was priceless. The funny thing when I saw this show was when a man came up to chant that they thought was really bad. And just like the real American Idol, the turbaned judges were laughing and making fun of him the whole time he was chanting, and cut him off early with, "That's enough.... that's enough!" I have since been told by Afghans that there is a version of American Idol in many nearby countries. Who knew!