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!

Unexpected

Many things are unexpected here. Things that when you wake up, never cross your mind. Like…

Coming home four days ago to find a snake that we think was a cobra outside our front door, with its hood up, doing its little dance. Dr. H’s husband killed it with a rock. It was a little one. Then finding bigger snake trails when we started looking.

And getting electrocuted while taking a shower this morning was a real shock. (That’s for you, Rob Shelton.) Sure, it was over pretty quickly, and my lesson’s learned: Never pour a cup of water over your head BEFORE unplugging the portable water heater from the 220 volt outlet and sticking your hand back in the bucket at the same time. Did I really graduate from college?

Driving

Stud

"Well, here I am. What were your other two wishes?"

Little America

It was a quick trip, but I spent two days in America this weekend. (Thursday and Friday are the weekend here.) I drove a car, ate Burger King, shopped for index cards and Hershey's kisses... and saw tons of other Americans. Yes, this is all 100% true!

I went to the Coalition base on Thursday. Three American friends and I found out that for some reason, right now, anyone with an American passport can get on. This is not usually the case- sometimes you have to be (literally) dying to get onto the base. But in the chance that it was true and we could actually eat American fast food... we spent our free day driving out there in the hopes they would let us on for no good reason. And our plan succeeded! I ate a hamburger and fries from Burger King, chocolate soft serve ice cream, and a Starbuck's-like iced coffee drink, all while seeing people either dressed in shorts and t-shirts or in military fatigues with guns slung around their shoulders. Not only this, but we were wearing jeans and t-shirts with our hair down. Yay! It was so refreshing- just like being home for a few hours.

Unfortunately I found out later that something I did on the base qualifies for me to have been shot on the spot. Luckily, I didn't know at the time and it wasn't a big deal.

Before this trip, I'd never been to a military base before. It really suprised me. I thought it would look more permanent. I don't think I'm supposed to give out a lot of information so it will suffice to say that after going, I have an extreme amount of respect for the soldiers who are serving here. While we were sitting there eating ice cream, having a blast, it suddenly occurred to me that the men we were seeing walk past could very well leave the base in a few hours and be shot. Their service here is so much more dangerous than ours. We have the luxury of blending into the community and not being recognized. They are moving targets from the moment they leave the base.

I was almost in awe of them. Although its a completely different strategy for helping the people, with a very different political motivation, I feel a deep sense of respect and compassion for these men and women who were called up for service here- some of whom are giving up their lives, and all of them risking it, without the majority of America giving them the recognition they deserve for the war they are fighting and the courage they've shown in this country.

The second day in America happened when these same friends and I went to a barbeque here held by a business. You see, there are two types of organizations in this city. Those of us who are working for NGOs and basically volunteer, and then there are those who are making lots and LOTS of money to be here. And the two groups, up until yesterday, didn't really even know about the presence of the other individuals. My friends who have been here for years met other expats last night who have been here for years, and for these years, they have never known of the other's coexistence. But somehow the two groups were introduced recently and we all got together to have Western steaks. It was like being home- but also felt very strange. Part of me thinks all of us at that party were crazy. What on earth are we all doing here? But crazy people are also pretty interesting. For instance, it was interesting meeting the correspondents for the New York Times and the Guardian having just returned from the front line where all the fighting recently ceased.

It was just the little break I needed... now back to Afghanistan.

War

Sometimes I forget that there really is a war here. For the first four weeks I was here, the sounds of war were fairly common, especially at night. For a long time, I didn't even realize what I was hearing. However, the large military operation that has been going on just west of the city finished a few days ago and now, by the sound of it, you would think there is relative peace. But what is peaceful here?

Just a few days ago, the coalition governments were handing out compensation through an Afghan NGO- compensation for families whose homes were destroyed in the military operations. We hear that there are many refugees in the city now and I met some at a home we visited yesterday. Everyone is trying to get out of the villages which are unstable right now. We also heard from Western media that over 500 people were killed in the operations. Maybe they were Taliban, maybe they were Pakistanis, maybe they were Arabs, maybe they were Afghan civilians. The Taliban denies that many were killed. Who will ever know the truth? But rumors like these remind me that people's lives are being destroyed all around us.

Yesterday, our language teacher was searching for a word to describe Afghanistan to us and he ended up saying, "What word do you use when there IS no government?" So we settled on anarchy. The situation is very complex but basically... the government in the capital really has very little power of most of the southern part of this country. The international forces are trying to maintain stability, and it is admirable, but there are so many deep, systemic problems in this country that it will really take years of persistent change to make a lasting difference.

Stars

Tonight I had a unique experience. I can count on one hand the number of times I've gone outside without a veil in these last six weeks. Actually on two fingers. And one of them was tonight… I ate dinner at a friend's house, and when it was over, instead of taking a rickshaw like normal, her driver drove me home in their car. This meant that I could ride with my veil up since it was dark outside. As we were driving along, the air-conditioning blew on my face and I happened to look up and see the stars. I started crying because it just felt so normal and free. And it was so beautiful. The air is not polluted here and I haven't seen anything that beautiful in some time. And my heart was also crying for the women who rarely see anything without the veil here. Something I've realized is that I don't even notice it anymore. I don't even notice what I'm missing. Its no wonder they don't either.

The Wedding

These little girls were so precious. The one in the blue lives in the other half of our house.



Weddings are also separated by gender, and only the groom and little boys are allowed at the women's wedding. These are wearing the tradional Afghan dress. The one on the left has his embroidered- the embroidery in this part of Afghanistan is some of the finest in the world.



Afghans love flowers, and the little girls at the wedding picked almost a hundred flowers for me!

Sorry there are no other pictures of women, I was the only woman at the wedding would allow me to take a picture. But here are some cute faces...



They are giving thumbs up because we're American. (The orange on their thumbs is henna.) They begged me to teach them English, which resulted in me saying a body part of number, and them enthusiastically repeating it in unison. Who can help but love these little kids??

Dr. H

This is Dr. H.

(Besides the burqa (or chaderi), women here often wear this Iranian headpiece with two flaps. One flap covers the back of your head and one flap covers the front but can be easily pulled back. The upside of this type of chaddar is that you have peripheral vision and can breath much more easily. The downside is that at night you cannot see a darn thing.)

Dr. H is really an amazing woman. It is hard to see the things she sees on a daily basis and to continue living and working here without getting burned out or frustrated. Way to go, Dr. H!

Medicating in Afghanistan

Working with Dr. H has really opened my eyes to the reality of life here for the ordinary Afghan. Usually, the sequence of events for a patient is as follows:

1) Symptoms arise. Patient goes to a cheap local doctor.
2) Doctor gives at least ten prescriptions to patient.
3) Patient fills prescriptions and problems persist.
4) Patient goes to a mullah.
5) Mullah does a somewhat mystical ritual.
6) Problem persists.
7) Patient goes to a more expensive foreign doctor.
8) Doctor is horrified at previous diagnoses and prescriptions and has to try to convince uneducated patient that he is correct in diagnosing the real problem.

The picture above is of medication given to one of Dr. H's patients. This woman went to a local doctor for infertility. The doctor, without taking a history, prescribed four drugs contraintdicated for pregnant women, two antibiotics, iron, a cream for vaginal irritation, an antifungal, ibuprofen, naproxen, and told her to rub Dettol on her stomach (which is a surface disinfectant). One drug was also prescribed to increase the number of eggs released during ovulation.

However, after coming to our house, Dr. H found that this girl's real problem was her educated husband. He didn't want a child, and was refusing intercourse during her fertile period. Although there could be other problems, it may have been as simple as that. We also recently saw a woman who has been to many doctors over the years for chronic backpain, but after a simple five-minute examination, it became obvious to Dr. H that this woman had scoliosis. None of the other doctors ever checked for that. It is the frequency of such malpractice that is really disturbing here. People are rarely ever correctly diagnosed and treated by local doctors, some of whom have simply read a medical book from Pakistan and opened a stall in the bazaar.

J-man

This is the J-man. He lives with me. Although he's only three years old, J-man is very, very smart. For only being three, he has a huge vocabulary. For two weeks, J-man wouldn't talk to me at all and the only face I saw was frowning. But after a few weeks of tickling (he only threw up once!) he has warmed up some and now calls me Ate Erin (Ate means big sister in Tegolag).



He posed with his gun for this shot.



Since he knows lots of words, we played Scrabble.

Outside My House

This is the view for men from right outside our gate.



And this is the view for women.

The View From Inside

So what does it look like from inside the chaderi? This is generally what the women here see when they go outside.



And now here's the view looking down...



And if your eyeholes get moved, you can't see at all and that's the worst.

Crazy

Life has been so crazy. I wish I could explain everything! Where to start...

Many things happened at home in the States these last few weeks, and I don't think a public blog is an acceptable forum to broadcast them on. But they were very sad. Heartbreaking. The fragility of happiness hits home at such times. The good news is that nothing is all bad. Good can come out of anything and I am sure it is going to come out of even the sad things taking place back home.

The good news is that everything here is wonderful. Really. I don't think there could have been better timing for me to be here (other than that I can't be with my family now). We are getting into our daily routines, which include: language lessons, working in a midwifery clinic, and cultural experiences galore. Last night, I went to a wedding. Wow. There's no way I can even describe what it was like. The women here are so beautiful and they love to dress up. So it was, along with being one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, one of the most fun nights of my life. This is definitely a land of contrasts and I find that true in my own life here as well. More to come later. Above is a picture from the wedding.