The drive to Sarband from Kulob was beautiful with the flowers of spring appearing the countryside looked like it was painted with a rainbow of spilt paint. Along our journey we passed several large trucks hauling Russian tanks and soldiers on their way to areas for military maneuvers. Many of the villages we saw were constructed of mud and grass homes again reminding us how much of a miracle it was that the Tajik children in fact attended any school at all. Upon our arrival at the ILC in Sarband Zebo the ILC manager, two recent RI exchange students to the U.S. and her other students greeted us with the traditional Tajik nan and salt. For me I felt like I was returning home to a very familiar place. Linda and Laura also felt that the Sarband ILC visit was very much like a homecoming. The students had prepared several skits and dances for us about the importance of spring and Navrooz. They also gave us an early look at their Earth Day research for April 21. They pointed out that the people of the world can do just 6 simple things to make the world a better place to live. They are: 1. plant a tree, 2. rides a bike, 3. conserve electricity (turn off lights and TVs when not in the room), 4. save water, 5. organize community clean-ups, and 6. recycle. And then they had prepared the game “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” for us to answer questions about Tajikistan. The game was a funny display of what we have learned while traveling around Tajikistan about the culture, geography, and history of the country. Lunch was taken at one of Zebo’s students’ home that was close enough to the school that we walked. We to walk knowing that we would need to walk back to wear off all the food that would be offered, and our instincts were right. Along the way we passed a park in Sarband that still has a viewing stand with Lenin’s statue. Before eating lunch a neighbor has prepared the traditional Tajik outside nan oven for us to bake our own nan. We started by stoking the fire and creating the coals necessary to bake the bread. Then we each flattened a dough ball into what looked like a pizza and placed it on a soft cushion with a handle on the other side to hold onto. When the coals were ready we each then leaned over and into the hot oven and smacked out the dough on the side of the oven where it stuck and then cooked for approximately 20 minutes. Imagine sticking your hands and part of your body into an oven that is over 500 degrees and then making sure that the dough is in the right place for what seems like minutes but is only seconds. After the nan baking we then sat on a raised platform to eat another multi-course Tajik meal. The food just kept coming. The students sat on the ground next to us and it was fun to watch how much they behaved like U.S. students that same cute juvenile goofiness. After two hours of eating it was time to head back to the school for more presentations. This time there was lots of dancing to their Tajik Shakira. We also planted a cherry tree of friendship together in front of the school. After which the student begged us to play volleyball with them. So it was off to the gym to play volleyball with the students. Their gym looks like an old hay barn converted to a gym. The game turned out to be a very entertaining 30-40 minutes. Interestingly the girls and guys divided into two different teams of boys vs. girls. It seems the battle of the sexes knows no boundaries of culture or continents. Who won? We can’t tell you officially because no one kept any real score. However, the game did draw a large crowd of spectators who watch and were greatly entertained. After spending the day at Zebo’s ILC with her students it was time to go to her parents for our overnight homestay. Their apartment is an old Soviet flat located on the fourth floor that was fun to navigate to in a stairway with no lights. Zebo’s mother greeted Steve as one of her son’s. Once again it was time for more food and fellowship. There is no end to the hospitality of the Tajik people. We dined with Zebo, her father and mother, Ibrahim (our interpreter and U.S. teenager), Murot (our driver), Zebo’s sister, and several of Zebo’s students. Dinner was served in the traditional Tajik manner with the table set on the floor in the middle of the room surrounded by pads for seating. Later Daniyor and a friend arrived with our passports that had finally been returned with a multiple entry Visa into Afghanistan. So now we know we are headed to Afghanistan tomorrow. We slept in another Soviet apartment in the building next door. We were told the apartment used to belong to a Russian family who abandoned it when the Civil War started. They went back to Russia leaving behind most of their belongings, which still occupied the apartment. There was no running water in the apartment and any water had to be brought up the three flights of stairs once again unlit. Linda and Laura were lucky enough to share a bed while the guys slept in what looked like a living room on the floor with mats. Ibrahim and Murot discussed the safety concerns we had about entering Afghanistan with what looked like a jerry-rigged multiple-entry Visa. They assured me that the Visas would work, however we still have my doubts about getting back into Tajikistan.
April 11, 2007 Beginning the Uncertain Part of the Journey
Leaving Tajikistan….We awoke at 5AM for an early breakfast at Zebo’s parents home followed by our departure for the border at 6:45AM. It was important to arrive at the border by 9AM to catch the ferry to Afghanistan. We stopped at a bazaar where Murot took us shopping for hand cream and scarves for the women and hats for Steve and Murot. Laura and Linda bought scarves that turned Laura into Sister Mary Martini (hers was white) and Linda into a big lavender Easter egg. We had to ask the women shop keepers to help us put on the head coverings. The older ones didn’t know how but a young girl wandered along and put our new purchases on our heads. Laura tried doing it herself but started to choke. Everyone laughed, especially the women who were selling the head coverings. It was a light-hearted moment for us as we were getting apprehensive as we approached the border feeling much concern for what was coming next….Afghanistan. Along the way we passed beautiful fields of vivid red poppies and other wild flowers in the mountains. We stopped to take pictures before we got to the border crossing. The views were amazing and incredibly scenic and yet we were sad as we knew we were leaving our friends in Tajikistan for Afghanistan a place we mostly knew about from the news reports in the U.S. Being dropped off at the border was scary and we were definitely apprenhensive. We all put our cameras away to avoid any trouble from border personnel. The border was in the middle of desolation as the landscape had changed dramatically as we approached the Punji River. Murot and Ibrahim helped us carry our many bags, including the two projectors that had been with us since LA, to the doorway of the first checkpoint room. We hugged our Tajik friends and said our goodbyes. The first checkpoint person asked a few questions and had us open our luggage. Only one person was allowed in the room at a time so we didn’t have the support of our trusty group of three if we needed help. The next checkpoint asked a few more questions. After lugging the two LCD projectors half way around the planet it appeared that they may not make it into Afghanistan as the Tajik Customs Officer was seriously questioning them and what their purpose was. Steve explained repeatedly as best he could because of the language barrier that they were for schools in Afghanistan. Finally after some serious consideration on the Tajik Custom’s Officers part they reluctantly allowed him to continue. Language was a problem, but some guy happened to pass by and help out. After that we were all directed to stand outside in the hot sun and wait for the van to arrive for our ride to the river. When the van arrived we crammed 15 people and their luggage inside a van made for 6. Steve was in the back of the van with luggage, packages, and boxes packed around him. The last guy to board brought a running machine and it was crammed in on top of everything else. Laura and Linda were in front and Steve was totally invisible in the far back. Sardines in a can had more room. A bumpy, dusty ride through more desolation resulted in our arrival at the banks of the Punji River where we were checked in for the third time to have our passports inspected. There was much activity at the river crossing area, as a cargo boat filled with bags of potatoes was being off-loaded---12 bags at a time---a slow process. The rickety ferry arrived which turned out to be a small boat pulling a barge containing 7 big cargo trucks. The boat looked like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. It was amazing that it even floated; there was so much rust and patches on it that it looked like Swiss cheese! Everyone going to Afghanistan crossed the truck barge and hopped into the ferry. Before departing, the shakedown began. A guy told us to pay $10 for our trip across the river. They collected money from we three Americans, but no one else. We didn’t argue as we needed to cross that river. We’d come too far to blow it now. Talk about taking a risk, OSHA would have had a field day writing citations for safety violations. There were no life preservers; no fire extinguishers….there weren’t any seats either. One thing it did have was an excess of passengers. Landing on the Afghan side of the river was quite a landing. There was no dock and the boat simply edged up to a small overhang of land so people could jump off with their baggage and boxes. It was remarkable that no one fell into the Punji River. We were immediately greeted by Mumtaza and her RI staff. It was amazing how three Americans crossing a remote checkpoint from Tajikistan to Afghanistan could draw such a large crowd of spectators. Fortunately, one of the RI staff was related to the customs officer so he looked at our passports and handed it to a uniformed passport control official who nodded “okay”. So our processing was very quick…only a few minutes…as opposed to the two hour ordeal getting out of Tajikistan. The quick processing would have serious consequences later. This connection also saved us from having to walk one kilometer up a steep hill with all our baggage because the RI truck was allowed to drive down to the river bank to pick us and our luggage. The trip from the border to Taloqan was 180 kilometers. We now know that the roads and driving conditions that seemed amusement park like in Tajikistan were really the “kiddie rides.” If we survive our driver, the roads, and the driving conditions in Afghanistan, it will be a true miracle. Our driver didn’t seem to like his side of the road and drove down the middle and honked at on-coming vehicles, or whatever got in his way. It is hard to imagine how close we came to head-on collisions. He also had a “lead foot” and we thought he was trying to impress us with his driving skills by showing off recklessly. We are already looking forward to getting back to our fantastic Tajik drivers: Murot and Daniyor. The topography changed dramatically just crossing the river from Tajikistan into Afghanistan. Sheep with a sprinkling of camels, donkeys, cattle, dogs, kids, and tent villages dot the sandy grassy hillsides. The journey has become much more surreal. We are either in a Chekhov novel or a Dali painting we cannot decide which it is. The minute we entered Afghanistan the military presence became quite obvious as we almost crashed into military vehicles moving as recklessly down the highway as we were. The road from Shir Khan Bandar border to Taloqan was littered with Afghan tent cities of sheep herders. Thousands of sheep dotted the countryside. Everywhere were sticks with colorful flags that were grave markers. We passed many remnants of the wars that have taken place. Burned out Russian tanks and buildings with many flags posted marked the victims of these conflicts. The structures in Afghanistan are almost exclusively clay like adobe with grass or tent roofs as opposed to the Russian concrete buildings and homes in Tajikistan. We are staying at the Agha Khan guest house in Taloqan. It is an NGO working throughout Central Asia on water quality, food production and education projects. We stopped in Shir Khan Bandar city so the RI staff could get something to eat while we sat in the vehicle waiting we discovered another major difference from Tajikistan. Many poor beggars in burkas approached the truck asking for money. We could give it as it would have created a mob scene so the staff were constantly shooing them off. The police in Tajikistan do not carry weapons. The police in Afghanistan are very well armed. Sitting on the street waiting for the RI staff made us very aware of how exposed we were and nervous. It was a relief once we were moving again towards Taloqan. We arrived at the Agha Khan guest house, unpacked and had lunch before heading to the RI ILC located along with a Women’s Development Center where more formal introductions took place. Then we went to the Bazaar where Linda looked for cool clothes with the assistance of many Afghan men who had never bought women clothes in their lives. We headed back to the guest house because of the fact that there is no power; everything shuts down at 17:00. Once again, in the market, our appearance drew crowds. We came back to the Agha Khan Guest House, had dinner and debriefed and reflected on the experience of crossing into Afghanistan.
April 12, 2007 You’re Not in Kansas Anymore Toto
It is very difficult to sleep on a concrete slab which is what my bed is like. I was awakened at 5:00AM by the sounds of horses clopping along the street outside our compound along with the prayers of the Imams echoing over the city. This will be my wake-up call every morning while we are in Afghanistan. Our morning consisted of meetings at the RI ILC (Relief International Internet Learning Center) in Taloqan during which the staff from Kabul and Jalalabad told us about the culture and history of Afghanistan. After 25 years of war there are currently 34 provinces in Afghanistan that comprise 800 districts. The main languages are Pashto and Dari (official) and Uzbeki, Tajik, Pamiree, Pakistani, Farsi, and Indian. Fashions very from province to province with certain items being recognized as traditional Afghani like the Pakul, the cap worn by the Mujhadeen while fighting the Russians in the 1980s. Eid is a traditional Afghani holiday in which new clothes are prepared and after prayer people go to friends and relatives homes for celebrations. Eid is also a day during which newly engaged couples get to see their fiancés. They have a national dance called the Attan that is performed during the end of all celebrations. There are three kinds of Attan. The Wordaki dancing during which there are only body movements and no clapping. The Logari which consists of clapping and full turns and lastly the Khosti dance during which the head is moved from side to side. Not all of Afghanistan celebrates Navrooz. It is mostly celebrated in Northern and Central Afghanistan as the other areas see it as a non-Islamic event. This presentation included a discussion of marriage rites and use of dowries for Afghani couples. After the presentation an intense discussion took place concerning Afghan cultural values and the rights of women. It was clear by the heated nature of the discussion that there is a recognition of the possible changes that may result as Afghanistan seeks to become more a part of the International arena. As they modernize their educational system and bring in more technology old ideas about gender and roles of men and women will be challenged as Afghanistan becomes more democratic. During this and many other spirited discussions there was an unspoken acknowledgment that the large monster in the room that everyone recognized but no one wanted to officially name out loud remained the role of Islam in the new progressive Afghanistan that many Afghani’s looked forward to creating. The idea of establishing a secular educational system will be the constant ghost in the room during every discussion on the Afghan educational system that occurs. The educational system in Afghanistan is in a severe state of cardiac arrest after 25 years of constant warfare. Denial and oppression have left a system without any modern educational practices. Most of the teachers are fresh out of high school with no formal training university training. The old educational system under the Taliban took place mostly in mosques taught my Mullahs who focused on the Koran and Islamic practices/law. The U.S. working with the University of Nebraska has tried to create mobile schools to address some of the pressing educational needs in Afghanistan. Today the educational system in Afghanistan consists of three parts: (1) religious schools mostly in rural areas and working out of mosques, (2) formal government supported schools, and (3) informal private sector schools many run by NGO’s. It is apparent that as these informal schools grow Afghanistan runs the great risk of establishing a system that creates educational elites that can afford a decent education while the majority of the people remain illiterate or vastly educationally underserved. Major obstacles and challenges that need to be addressed in order to help more effectively educate the young people of Afghanistan include: a lack of trained teachers, no facilities as most were destroyed during war (many classes are conducted outside on the ground with students sitting on plastic), and no resources (textbooks, labs supplies, paper, pencils). Many of the discussions were centered on the use of technology such as computers and the Internet as their panacea. Yet, there is a failure to recognize that they lack the infrastructure necessary to utilize this technology and they do not have teachers trained to be able to implement it into the schools. It was becoming more and more apparent that what they (the teachers in the room) wanted was for us to give them a silver bullet (model) that they could follow step-by-step and cure all their problems. In the afternoon the discussion was led by us as we explained how the American educational system worked. This led to even a more passionate discussion concerning the fate and problems of the Afghani educational system. It was obvious that we were privileged to witness the beginning discussions in this room concerning the fate and future of the Afghan educational system. These discussions that are being led by Relief and other NGO’s will largely help determine the master plan that will either move Afghanistan progressively forward or ultimately fail and keep Afghanistan in the Dark Ages. We are hopeful that the future leadership we are talking to in these discussions will prevail and move Afghanistan forward. There will be many obstacles and barriers for these future leaders to contend with as they push for progressive reforms.
April 13, 2007 Holy Day
This is a special day here as most people don’t go to work so the RI staff planned a picnic at a park beside river number five. Sounds like fun, right? Wait and see! Food, water, carpets and the RI staff piled into 3 vehicles as we began our trek. It was early (7:30-8:00 am) and the day looked clean and the temperature was mild. Three hours later we arrived at the site totally whipped. The paved road had soon turned to dirt and gravel, then to a rocky river bed followed by a detour that few cars in the US would have attempted. Our drive to the historical site proved to be one big video game. Passing with little room, honking the horn at cars that had nowhere to go on narrow roads and speeding like a maniac. The three of us were packed into the back seat of the Helix - a Toyota 2 seat 4 wheel drive truck. We bounced and bounced. It was really a fairly miserable trip up the mountains. The saving grace in this excursion was the beauty of the mountains and the valley as we bounced along the road help to provide some relief. We finally stopped at a pretty park area beside the river named Farkhar. The river known as the “river number 5”, was flowing fast but was very brown; not very appealing. Kabobs were being cooked outside of a building that was “the restaurant.” The RI Staff unloaded the carpets, placed them on the ground and we were ready for our picnic. A pick-up soccer game was organized with many of the others who were enjoying the park. The soccer game turned out to be relaxing and tiring all-in-all a very enjoyable event. The restaurant brought us plates and the food. We ate a wonderful meal of shishkabobs, fruit, and nan. Steve found out that playing soccer at such a high altitude will soon wear a person out and used the time after lunch to recuperate after the soccer game. Laura, Linda, and Mumtaza stretched out on the carpets and rested deciding playing soccer was too much fun for them. Laura and Linda braved the bathroom. It was disgusting with piles of human feces on the floor. Even though there were 4 stalls with doors, the pit toilets were almost full. It was unisex restroom but women rarely go to the park, let alone use the “facilities.” We cannot understand why the toilet facilities are so primitive. Even outhouses in Kansas were always 500% cleaner than in Afghanistan. It’s difficult to find even a nasty restroom. Our drive home began with us switching to another vehicle a Toyota van that the guys said had better shock absorbers than the truck. The windows didn’t all open so it was a hotter ride but we had more space and bounced less. Shortly before we left the park a guy came down from the mountains carrying a Kalishnakov and Steve was able to get his picture taken holding the thing. It was fully loaded and he figured we’d better be getting out of there before trouble found us and Ebad (RI staff from Kabul) agreed. A guest house in the park was the headquarters for a famous Mujhadeen Afghan general known as the Tiger of Takhar (Ahmadshoh Masud) who fought against the Russians and Taliban who later killed him. One room remains the way he left it and we were able to go inside but were allowed to take any pictures. All the RI staff spoke of the man with great reverence. Back to the drive – it was somewhat uneventful except for few more life threatening events. The driver tried to pass a truck full of logs that had stopped in the dirt road to assist another log truck which was mired in mud. He came within an inch of scraping the logs. He couldn’t wait for the truck driver to pull forward to give him room to pass. Zia and Mumtaza yelled at him to stop but it was a close call. The closer we got to Taloqan the faster he drove. Once again, people and animals were dodging us. He honked at cars that had no place to move to. A car backed out of a driveway in our lane with another car approaching from the opposite direction. Sabir didn’t put on the brakes until the last moment. While on the dirt toad the dust was so bad that we couldn’t see the front of the van; yet he drove fast and we prayed that we wouldn’t rear-end another vehicle. A few blocks from the Agha Khan guest house he came dreadfully close to hitting a boy carrying a jug of gasoline. The only reason the boy is alive was that he jumped before we could hit him. Mumtaza says that drivers in Kabul are worse and that the ones in Jalalabad are the worst of all. They run red lights, etc. We have not, however, seen any traffic lights or stop signs in Taloqan. It has become obvious that there are no laws for the highways. We were filthy dirty from all the dust. Linda and Laura were for once grateful for the scarves they were required to wear as they were able to cover their faces and filter out some of the crud. Steve tried to use his hands to breathe in less of the fine silt dust but it seemed to permeate every pore of our bodies. Parts of our drive were very beautiful. There was irrigation on one side of the road and the landscape was lush green in color. On the opposite side (uphill) it as brown, rocky and not as pretty. We were impressed with how high up on the mountainside that the villagers farmed. We have never before seen crops on land that high or that steep. Some mountain sides were covered with Pistachio trees, a main source of income for villagers. Just harvesting the nuts would be a monumental feat due to the steepness of the terrain. We saw farmers plowing using donkeys. Donkeys were everywhere – a basic and vital mode of transportation in Afghanistan.
April 14, 2007 Our First Experience with the Afghan Educational System
Today we visited a girl’s school (Bibi Morgan School for Girls) in Taloqan. There are so many students that they have to run three shifts in order to provide an education to all the girls who would like to attend. Almost immediately upon entering the complex we were met by a young lady who had been attending the discussions at the RI ILC. Unlike Tajikistan where the ILCs are located at the schools in Afghanistan they are separate from each other as the schools have no power in order to run the computer labs. School starts at 7 AM and ends at 4 PM in order to allow the girls enough time to get back home. We met with the director of the school and held a small discussion of education in Afghanistan and the US. She then gave us a tour. This girl’s school and a boy’s school are the only two schools the Afghan authorities would give RI permission to allow us to visit. They are for Afghanistan their model, elite schools. Most of the classes were being held outside under blue tarps or old UN tents and with the girls sitting on the ground. Considering the conditions it was remarkable to see the girls and their teachers engaged in lessons on chemistry, literature, and learning different languages. Even under these Spartan conditions education was finding a way to help Afghan children to become literate. If Afghanistan is to have any hope of a brighter future the seeds are being sown in these schools with these students. In each classroom we encountered many students we had previously met at the ILC. In several classrooms we were engaged in conversations with young ladies who demonstrated active and inquisitive minds. Their questioning minds and energetic spirit offered to us an opportunity to see the possibility of progress taking hold in Afghanistan through their young and active personalities. Our next stop was a women’s NGO, Afghan Women’s Rehabilitation Center, under the direction of Fazila Karimi who had been a geometry teachers before the 25 years of constant warfare had begun in Afghanistan. She established her NGO 6 years ago after war had left many women with no means to support themselves or their families. The purpose of the NGO is to help women develop the skills to become economically independent. For a long time this has been the only agency, government or NGO, offering any services to Afghani women. Her NGO currently supports 9 skills programs designed to teach Afghan women in 1 year to become self-sufficient. Before we departed this NGO all of us purchased some clothing items made by the women at the NGO as a way to help further Fazila’s cause for Afghan women. Seems not everyone appreciates her work. Just a month before we arrived a bomb was exploded outside her compound damaging a long section of the wall and destroying her car. Fortunately no one was injured as the bomb exploded prematurely before the school had opened and any women had arrived. After a lunch at the Agha Khan House it was back to the RI ILC and more meetings with Afghan teachers and students. This time I planned on keeping the presentation low-key in order to avoid the chaotic types of discussions of the previous meetings. The presentation included examples of my students’ work that they have shared with our partner schools in Tajikistan and Palestine. Linda showed an example of a magazine about Afghanistan that her students’ had prepared What seemed to us to be an innocuous presentation once again ignited another firestorm and bedlam of discussion concerning why Afghan students and/or teachers could not complete the same level of collaboration. The comments almost always seem to come back to requests for more money or aide from the US to help them complete the work necessary. There is an obviously fatalistic mentality here, which is more than likely the result of 30 years of warfare and centuries of conflict in Afghanistan. We had decided earlier to make an attempt to get to the market before 4:00 PM in order to shop in the market with it mostly open. Our other attempts at the market were always around 5 PM or later when the market was shut or in the process of shutting down because of the lack of electricity. This time we were able to purchase some Pakul’s the hats of the Afghan Mujhadeen that had fought the Soviets and the Taliban in the northern part of Afghanistan. The people in the Takhar Province were very proud of the fact that they had been able to become a major thorn in the side of the Taliban. Looking at my passport before going to bed I noticed there was no entry stamp into Afghanistan. I remarked to Linda that I hoped that would not be an issue as it seemed strange. Boy were those words going to prove to be prophetic!
April 15, 2007 More Exposure to the Afghan Educational System
The early morning hours were spent visiting an Afghan boy’s school. There was a light-hearted moment when we met with the local official of the Office of Education and he presented the women with gifts of flowers. Someone pointed out to him that I was also a visiting US teacher to which he replied that he thought I was an Afghani because I was wearing the Pakul I bought at the market. While touring the boy’s school we noticed that the classrooms much like the girl’s school lacked any resources: books, desks, chalk, lab materials. In most of the classes the boys were sitting on the floor in a couple of classrooms students were crammed four on benches behind desks made for two students. As austere as the school was unlike the girl’s school no classes were being held outdoors on the ground. The afternoon was once again spent at the RI ILC were we three American teachers attempted to teach a lesson using American methodologies to both Afghan teachers and students who had gathered. The lesson turned out for us to be a test on how to manage Afghan chaos and still teach. Once again, what we had designed to be a simple and conflict-free exercise turned out to be a major event involving Afghan culture and politics. I saw Mumtaza watching the whole affair and grinning from ear-to-ear as she was clearly enjoying watching someone else deal with the pandemonium she tries to work with everyday. We are astonished and amazed that Mumtaza and her RI staff are able to accomplish anything in the unruliness and commotion that have become imbedded in the Afghan culture. We made a trip to the dry goods market to purchase some pistachios and cookies that we enjoyed before dinner and later that night with a cup of tea before the lights went out. During these discussions we become even more aware of how amazing Mumtaza is as she tells us about her ordeal in Uzbekistan when the government tried to arrest her as a criminal because she worked for an NGO with US ties. She was offered amnesty by the United States but turned it down because even if she and her family left Uzbekistan for the US the rest of her family left behind would be constantly harassed by the government. She was willing to risk prison to protect her family from a corrupt government. Unfortunately tomorrow we will get a chance to see firsthand Mumtaza’s commitment to principles.
April 16, 2007 If Only Our Passports Could Talk
This part of our story would certainly be best told by our passports as they experienced the really crucial parts and I’m sure they would tell a much more intriguing story than I will. Our day started as they had always with the Imam’s calling of the prayers around 5 AM. We loaded up the van for the trip back to the Shir Bandar Border Post to go back into Tajikistan. The wind was blowing very strongly the driver of the van had trouble keeping it on the highway. The fine dust was being blown into the air giving it a grey quality. You could feel the fine powder saturating everything, our bodies and our possessions. Once again we were passing through the plain and stark Afghan countryside that was sporadically dotted with the tent villages we had passed 5 days earlier. The shepherds were still tending to their sheep, cattle, donkeys, and camels that were scattered throughout the pasture land we passed. We stopped to take pictures with an Afghani and his camels he was moving to a new grassy area. We passed through the city of Kunduz where we stopped to purchase candy and cakes for Ebad’s friend at the border. We were later told that soon after leaving Kunduz that a suicide bomber had killed 10 police officers in the city. This was the start of a chain of events that would soon impact our journey. We shared tea and cakes with Ebad’s border friend while waiting for the border posts to open at 9:30 AM. Ebad’s friend escorted us over to the first station in an unmarked building. It turns out that none of the buildings on the Afghan side are marked in any manner that anyone visiting would need to know in order to move back and forth between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. Once in the building I gave our three passports to the Afghan custom’s official who took them into another room and shut the door. We waited outside in another ascetically adorned room. After a few minutes they called my name and I went into the room with Ebad who would act as my interpreter. At first they were not going to let him in, thank God they did. As soon as I entered the room and they closed the door it was immediately apparent that something was not right. The two guards in the room were very stern and abrupt in their questioning of Ebad. It seems that when we arrived our passports had in fact not been properly processed; we were missing our entry stamps. Ebad and I explained that when we arrived 5 days ago we had in fact passed off our passports to an official at the docks. He gave them back to us and we left the border area passing two more check points where we were stopped and questioned however our passports were never asked for after the first official. We were given clearance to leave at every checkpoint and as there were no signs indicating we needed to stop at the unmarked building why would we. So back to the small room and the two guards. They kept questioning Ebad in Dari and saying that this was a very serious matter. I think that the bombing in Kunduz was playing a large role in this whole affair. Of course at the time we did not know about the bombing. There was nervousness in the building and outside lots of movement of people with guns as more security was being put in place. One official finally said to me to sit down in a chair and he left the room with all three passports. The passports would be traveling around a lot after this point. This made me extremely nervous as I had no idea where they were or who had them. I envisioned them somehow getting “lost” and then the situation getting even more extreme. I was told at this point that they felt they needed to call the officials in Kunduz to come and we would be placed in a jail while a local judge or official would decide our case. At this point I left the room and found Mumtaza to explain to her the situation. She said not to worry as this was a normal routine to shake down people especially Americans and that all they wanted was money. It was just a matter of deciding how much they wanted. Turns out that this wasn’t so normal because of the bombing in Kunduz. The next 4 hours were spent watching our passports move in and out of the building. During this time several cars would come to the building with very official looking people getting out and holding discussions over our fate. Each car and official appeared to be higher up the bribery chain. I finally had had enough and told Mumtaza the next time she and Ebad met with the border officials they were to inform them I was contacting the US embassy. Dan who had given us the security briefing in Dushanbe upon our arrival had given us his card with directions to us it if we found ourselves in any kind of trouble, this seemed to qualify. Just holding Dan’s card gave us some sense of security as the condition was becoming more severe at the border. At each meeting between the Afghan authorities and Mumtaza and Ebad voices were getting raised to higher and higher levels. Mumtaza made it clear that no bribe would be paid. Even though I knew this could prove to be dangerous we agreed with her whole-heartedly. Ironically, Greg called from Dushanbe as our driver Murot was getting concerned as he had been waiting for 3 hours for us to arrive in Tajikistan. I informed Greg of our situation and he said he would call Dan at the U.S. Embassy. Even though no one was sure what the Embassy could do it was nice to know at least someone else would be working on rectifying this situation. For the next 3 hours there were officials constantly entering and exiting the building sometimes with our passports, sometimes without our passports. We would have loved to hear what they heard as our fate was being debated. While this debate was unfolding several BMWs and other official vehicles with diplomatic plates drove up to get clearance across into Tajikistan were it turns out a major meeting of top Central Asian government officials was being held. One carload was refused permission to leave as they had Iranian documents and could not cross. This did not make us any less nervous as they were now refusing people with diplomatic passports to leave. This bombing had created a lot of anxiety. The Takhar Province was supposed to be safe from the Taliban and today’s bombing had really unnerved people in the area. If life is timing our timing today was all over the place, lucky enough to miss the bombing but not lucky enough to get across the border before the bombing angst got there. While we were waiting to see if jail was in the cards or not, a Tajik doctor told us she had a message from Murot our driver on the other side of the river. Seems Murot knew this doctor and asked her to find us. She gave us his cell phone number and we called Murot and Jahonjir to tell them of our current plight. Finally Mumtaza and Ebad brought out a yellow legal pad on it with a statement written in Dari that said we admitted we made a mistake not the Afghan authorities and we were told if we signed it we would be allowed to go. It seemed that at this point the Afghan border guards were no longer interested in a bribe but wanted to protect themselves from the mistake that had been made 5 days ago, what could have been used as a money maker was now seen by them as an incredible inconvenience that because of the bombing in Kunduz could cause them to lose their jobs. Circumstances were beginning to change in our favor. We felt like hostages that were being forced to sign something that would turn up on CNN or NBC that night as a lead story on how three Americans had admitted to being spies for the U.S. We really had no idea what we were signing as none of us reads Dari. We had to trust the RI staff fully on the interpretation of the document. So somewhere in the bureaucratic files of the Afghan border sits a documents with our three signatures on it admitting we violated Afghan law. We suppose if we ever decided to go back they could dig that document up and use it against us somehow. We will never forget the incredible work that Mumtaza and her staff did to make a very bad situation not get worse. They are incredible professions that RI should be very proud to have working in their organization. Needless to say we got our passports and high-tailed it to the boat to get across the Punji River as quickly as possible. Before they could change their minds, which was a distinct possibility. There were no lingering goodbyes with Mumtaza or the RI staff. Which made us sad as in the 5 days we had been there we had developed bonds with them. However they and we knew it was best to take advantage of the break and get out of Afghanistan pronto. We literally jumped on the boat and threw our baggage on the deck. None of us breathed comfortably until we felt the boat hit dirt on the Tajik side of the river and even then we had decided there would be no smiles until we made it through Tajik customs and were in the possession of the RI staff in Tajikistan. When we landed in Tajikistan we felt like a fish in a bowl. Everyone seemed to be starring at us even more than usual. We wondered what this could foretell for us? When we reached the first Tajik check point after our crowded van ride. This time the van had more people and baggage but luckily no treadmill. The Tajik guard let us go before everyone else in line when he found out who we were. Seems our story of trying to get out of Afghanistan had made it to the Tajik side. We had become something like celebrities on the Tajik side. The Tajik passport control official said the Afghani’s are always up to something no good. We even heard a story about a Tajik who had to travel back and forth between Tajikistan and Afghanistan and would always stop before coming into Tajikistan to get the Afghan dirt off his shoes as he felt it was bad soil that had bad conflict attached to it. It never felt so good to get through Tajik customs and finally emerge with our driver Murot and Jahonjir waiting for us. There were very firm handshakes and hugs exchanged all around. On the way back to Dushanbe Murot asked us what we would like. We all said something cold to drink. We stopped in a small village and purchased some cold beverages along with Tajik candy and cookies to hold us over on the 3 hour trip back to Dushanbe. It is hard to describe how much it felt like getting back into Tajikistan was like returning home. We wanted to do nothing more than get all of the Afghan dust off us and our belongings as we believed the Tajik who said the soil was bad and carried conflict with it. Seeing Dushanbe emerge as we crossed the mountains into the city was a wonderful sight to behold. The surreal episode at the Afghan border was becoming more and more of a bad memory that almost seemed to have been more of a dream that an actual reality. Everything around us the air, sights, sounds, rivers, villages seemed to possess a new vitality that had been missing during our excursion into Afghanistan. We will never forget the wonderful staff at RI in Afghanistan and will always be concerned about their safety as they work against a power current of opposition to their progressive cause. We learned in Dushanbe that Greg’s phone call to Dan at the US Embassy had started a chain of events that had led to phone calls being placed to the Afghan Embassy and the Tajik Border Station.
April 10, 2007
Homecoming in Sarband
The drive to Sarband from Kulob was beautiful with the flowers of spring appearing the countryside looked like it was painted with a rainbow of spilt paint. Along our journey we passed several large trucks hauling Russian tanks and soldiers on their way to areas for military maneuvers. Many of the villages we saw were constructed of mud and grass homes again reminding us how much of a miracle it was that the Tajik children in fact attended any school at all.
Upon our arrival at the ILC in Sarband Zebo the ILC manager, two recent RI exchange students to the U.S. and her other students greeted us with the traditional Tajik nan and salt. For me I felt like I was returning home to a very familiar place. Linda and Laura also felt that the Sarband ILC visit was very much like a homecoming.
The students had prepared several skits and dances for us about the importance of spring and Navrooz. They also gave us an early look at their Earth Day research for April 21. They pointed out that the people of the world can do just 6 simple things to make the world a better place to live. They are: 1. plant a tree, 2. rides a bike, 3. conserve electricity (turn off lights and TVs when not in the room), 4. save water, 5. organize community clean-ups, and 6. recycle. And then they had prepared the game “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” for us to answer questions about Tajikistan. The game was a funny display of what we have learned while traveling around Tajikistan about the culture, geography, and history of the country.
Lunch was taken at one of Zebo’s students’ home that was close enough to the school that we walked. We to walk knowing that we would need to walk back to wear off all the food that would be offered, and our instincts were right. Along the way we passed a park in Sarband that still has a viewing stand with Lenin’s statue. Before eating lunch a neighbor has prepared the traditional Tajik outside nan oven for us to bake our own nan. We started by stoking the fire and creating the coals necessary to bake the bread. Then we each flattened a dough ball into what looked like a pizza and placed it on a soft cushion with a handle on the other side to hold onto. When the coals were ready we each then leaned over and into the hot oven and smacked out the dough on the side of the oven where it stuck and then cooked for approximately 20 minutes. Imagine sticking your hands and part of your body into an oven that is over 500 degrees and then making sure that the dough is in the right place for what seems like minutes but is only seconds. After the nan baking we then sat on a raised platform to eat another multi-course Tajik meal. The food just kept coming. The students sat on the ground next to us and it was fun to watch how much they behaved like U.S. students that same cute juvenile goofiness. After two hours of eating it was time to head back to the school for more presentations. This time there was lots of dancing to their Tajik Shakira. We also planted a cherry tree of friendship together in front of the school. After which the student begged us to play volleyball with them. So it was off to the gym to play volleyball with the students. Their gym looks like an old hay barn converted to a gym. The game turned out to be a very entertaining 30-40 minutes. Interestingly the girls and guys divided into two different teams of boys vs. girls. It seems the battle of the sexes knows no boundaries of culture or continents. Who won? We can’t tell you officially because no one kept any real score. However, the game did draw a large crowd of spectators who watch and were greatly entertained.
After spending the day at Zebo’s ILC with her students it was time to go to her parents for our overnight homestay. Their apartment is an old Soviet flat located on the fourth floor that was fun to navigate to in a stairway with no lights. Zebo’s mother greeted Steve as one of her son’s. Once again it was time for more food and fellowship. There is no end to the hospitality of the Tajik people. We dined with Zebo, her father and mother, Ibrahim (our interpreter and U.S. teenager), Murot (our driver), Zebo’s sister, and several of Zebo’s students. Dinner was served in the traditional Tajik manner with the table set on the floor in the middle of the room surrounded by pads for seating. Later Daniyor and a friend arrived with our passports that had finally been returned with a multiple entry Visa into Afghanistan. So now we know we are headed to Afghanistan tomorrow.
We slept in another Soviet apartment in the building next door. We were told the apartment used to belong to a Russian family who abandoned it when the Civil War started. They went back to Russia leaving behind most of their belongings, which still occupied the apartment. There was no running water in the apartment and any water had to be brought up the three flights of stairs once again unlit. Linda and Laura were lucky enough to share a bed while the guys slept in what looked like a living room on the floor with mats. Ibrahim and Murot discussed the safety concerns we had about entering Afghanistan with what looked like a jerry-rigged multiple-entry Visa. They assured me that the Visas would work, however we still have my doubts about getting back into Tajikistan.
April 11, 2007
Beginning the Uncertain Part of the Journey
Leaving Tajikistan….We awoke at 5AM for an early breakfast at Zebo’s parents home followed by our departure for the border at 6:45AM. It was important to arrive at the border by 9AM to catch the ferry to Afghanistan. We stopped at a bazaar where Murot took us shopping for hand cream and scarves for the women and hats for Steve and Murot. Laura and Linda bought scarves that turned Laura into Sister Mary Martini (hers was white) and Linda into a big lavender Easter egg. We had to ask the women shop keepers to help us put on the head coverings. The older ones didn’t know how but a young girl wandered along and put our new purchases on our heads. Laura tried doing it herself but started to choke. Everyone laughed, especially the women who were selling the head coverings. It was a light-hearted moment for us as we were getting apprehensive as we approached the border feeling much concern for what was coming next….Afghanistan.
Along the way we passed beautiful fields of vivid red poppies and other wild flowers in the mountains. We stopped to take pictures before we got to the border crossing. The views were amazing and incredibly scenic and yet we were sad as we knew we were leaving our friends in Tajikistan for Afghanistan a place we mostly knew about from the news reports in the U.S.
Being dropped off at the border was scary and we were definitely apprenhensive. We all put our cameras away to avoid any trouble from border personnel. The border was in the middle of desolation as the landscape had changed dramatically as we approached the Punji River. Murot and Ibrahim helped us carry our many bags, including the two projectors that had been with us since LA, to the doorway of the first checkpoint room. We hugged our Tajik friends and said our goodbyes. The first checkpoint person asked a few questions and had us open our luggage. Only one person was allowed in the room at a time so we didn’t have the support of our trusty group of three if we needed help. The next checkpoint asked a few more questions. After lugging the two LCD projectors half way around the planet it appeared that they may not make it into Afghanistan as the Tajik Customs Officer was seriously questioning them and what their purpose was. Steve explained repeatedly as best he could because of the language barrier that they were for schools in Afghanistan. Finally after some serious consideration on the Tajik Custom’s Officers part they reluctantly allowed him to continue. Language was a problem, but some guy happened to pass by and help out. After that we were all directed to stand outside in the hot sun and wait for the van to arrive for our ride to the river. When the van arrived we crammed 15 people and their luggage inside a van made for 6. Steve was in the back of the van with luggage, packages, and boxes packed around him. The last guy to board brought a running machine and it was crammed in on top of everything else. Laura and Linda were in front and Steve was totally invisible in the far back. Sardines in a can had more room. A bumpy, dusty ride through more desolation resulted in our arrival at the banks of the Punji River where we were checked in for the third time to have our passports inspected.
There was much activity at the river crossing area, as a cargo boat filled with bags of potatoes was being off-loaded---12 bags at a time---a slow process. The rickety ferry arrived which turned out to be a small boat pulling a barge containing 7 big cargo trucks. The boat looked like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. It was amazing that it even floated; there was so much rust and patches on it that it looked like Swiss cheese! Everyone going to Afghanistan crossed the truck barge and hopped into the ferry. Before departing, the shakedown began. A guy told us to pay $10 for our trip across the river. They collected money from we three Americans, but no one else. We didn’t argue as we needed to cross that river. We’d come too far to blow it now. Talk about taking a risk, OSHA would have had a field day writing citations for safety violations. There were no life preservers; no fire extinguishers….there weren’t any seats either. One thing it did have was an excess of passengers. Landing on the Afghan side of the river was quite a landing. There was no dock and the boat simply edged up to a small overhang of land so people could jump off with their baggage and boxes. It was remarkable that no one fell into the Punji River. We were immediately greeted by Mumtaza and her RI staff. It was amazing how three Americans crossing a remote checkpoint from Tajikistan to Afghanistan could draw such a large crowd of spectators. Fortunately, one of the RI staff was related to the customs officer so he looked at our passports and handed it to a uniformed passport control official who nodded “okay”. So our processing was very quick…only a few minutes…as opposed to the two hour ordeal getting out of Tajikistan. The quick processing would have serious consequences later. This connection also saved us from having to walk one kilometer up a steep hill with all our baggage because the RI truck was allowed to drive down to the river bank to pick us and our luggage.
The trip from the border to Taloqan was 180 kilometers. We now know that the roads and driving conditions that seemed amusement park like in Tajikistan were really the “kiddie rides.” If we survive our driver, the roads, and the driving conditions in Afghanistan, it will be a true miracle. Our driver didn’t seem to like his side of the road and drove down the middle and honked at on-coming vehicles, or whatever got in his way. It is hard to imagine how close we came to head-on collisions. He also had a “lead foot” and we thought he was trying to impress us with his driving skills by showing off recklessly. We are already looking forward to getting back to our fantastic Tajik drivers: Murot and Daniyor.
The topography changed dramatically just crossing the river from Tajikistan into Afghanistan. Sheep with a sprinkling of camels, donkeys, cattle, dogs, kids, and tent villages dot the sandy grassy hillsides. The journey has become much more surreal. We are either in a Chekhov novel or a Dali painting we cannot decide which it is. The minute we entered Afghanistan the military presence became quite obvious as we almost crashed into military vehicles moving as recklessly down the highway as we were. The road from Shir Khan Bandar border to Taloqan was littered with Afghan tent cities of sheep herders. Thousands of sheep dotted the countryside. Everywhere were sticks with colorful flags that were grave markers. We passed many remnants of the wars that have taken place. Burned out Russian tanks and buildings with many flags posted marked the victims of these conflicts. The structures in Afghanistan are almost exclusively clay like adobe with grass or tent roofs as opposed to the Russian concrete buildings and homes in Tajikistan. We are staying at the Agha Khan guest house in Taloqan. It is an NGO working throughout Central Asia on water quality, food production and education projects. We stopped in Shir Khan Bandar city so the RI staff could get something to eat while we sat in the vehicle waiting we discovered another major difference from Tajikistan. Many poor beggars in burkas approached the truck asking for money. We could give it as it would have created a mob scene so the staff were constantly shooing them off. The police in Tajikistan do not carry weapons. The police in Afghanistan are very well armed. Sitting on the street waiting for the RI staff made us very aware of how exposed we were and nervous. It was a relief once we were moving again towards Taloqan. We arrived at the Agha Khan guest house, unpacked and had lunch before heading to the RI ILC located along with a Women’s Development Center where more formal introductions took place. Then we went to the Bazaar where Linda looked for cool clothes with the assistance of many Afghan men who had never bought women clothes in their lives. We headed back to the guest house because of the fact that there is no power; everything shuts down at 17:00. Once again, in the market, our appearance drew crowds. We came back to the Agha Khan Guest House, had dinner and debriefed and reflected on the experience of crossing into Afghanistan.
April 12, 2007
You’re Not in Kansas Anymore Toto
It is very difficult to sleep on a concrete slab which is what my bed is like. I was awakened at 5:00AM by the sounds of horses clopping along the street outside our compound along with the prayers of the Imams echoing over the city. This will be my wake-up call every morning while we are in Afghanistan.
Our morning consisted of meetings at the RI ILC (Relief International Internet Learning Center) in Taloqan during which the staff from Kabul and Jalalabad told us about the culture and history of Afghanistan. After 25 years of war there are currently 34 provinces in Afghanistan that comprise 800 districts. The main languages are Pashto and Dari (official) and Uzbeki, Tajik, Pamiree, Pakistani, Farsi, and Indian. Fashions very from province to province with certain items being recognized as traditional Afghani like the Pakul, the cap worn by the Mujhadeen while fighting the Russians in the 1980s. Eid is a traditional Afghani holiday in which new clothes are prepared and after prayer people go to friends and relatives homes for celebrations. Eid is also a day during which newly engaged couples get to see their fiancés. They have a national dance called the Attan that is performed during the end of all celebrations. There are three kinds of Attan. The Wordaki dancing during which there are only body movements and no clapping. The Logari which consists of clapping and full turns and lastly the Khosti dance during which the head is moved from side to side. Not all of Afghanistan celebrates Navrooz. It is mostly celebrated in Northern and Central Afghanistan as the other areas see it as a non-Islamic event. This presentation included a discussion of marriage rites and use of dowries for Afghani couples. After the presentation an intense discussion took place concerning Afghan cultural values and the rights of women. It was clear by the heated nature of the discussion that there is a recognition of the possible changes that may result as Afghanistan seeks to become more a part of the International arena. As they modernize their educational system and bring in more technology old ideas about gender and roles of men and women will be challenged as Afghanistan becomes more democratic. During this and many other spirited discussions there was an unspoken acknowledgment that the large monster in the room that everyone recognized but no one wanted to officially name out loud remained the role of Islam in the new progressive Afghanistan that many Afghani’s looked forward to creating. The idea of establishing a secular educational system will be the constant ghost in the room during every discussion on the Afghan educational system that occurs.
The educational system in Afghanistan is in a severe state of cardiac arrest after 25 years of constant warfare. Denial and oppression have left a system without any modern educational practices. Most of the teachers are fresh out of high school with no formal training university training. The old educational system under the Taliban took place mostly in mosques taught my Mullahs who focused on the Koran and Islamic practices/law. The U.S. working with the University of Nebraska has tried to create mobile schools to address some of the pressing educational needs in Afghanistan.
Today the educational system in Afghanistan consists of three parts: (1) religious schools mostly in rural areas and working out of mosques, (2) formal government supported schools, and (3) informal private sector schools many run by NGO’s. It is apparent that as these informal schools grow Afghanistan runs the great risk of establishing a system that creates educational elites that can afford a decent education while the majority of the people remain illiterate or vastly educationally underserved.
Major obstacles and challenges that need to be addressed in order to help more effectively educate the young people of Afghanistan include: a lack of trained teachers, no facilities as most were destroyed during war (many classes are conducted outside on the ground with students sitting on plastic), and no resources (textbooks, labs supplies, paper, pencils). Many of the discussions were centered on the use of technology such as computers and the Internet as their panacea. Yet, there is a failure to recognize that they lack the infrastructure necessary to utilize this technology and they do not have teachers trained to be able to implement it into the schools. It was becoming more and more apparent that what they (the teachers in the room) wanted was for us to give them a silver bullet (model) that they could follow step-by-step and cure all their problems.
In the afternoon the discussion was led by us as we explained how the American educational system worked. This led to even a more passionate discussion concerning the fate and problems of the Afghani educational system. It was obvious that we were privileged to witness the beginning discussions in this room concerning the fate and future of the Afghan educational system. These discussions that are being led by Relief and other NGO’s will largely help determine the master plan that will either move Afghanistan progressively forward or ultimately fail and keep Afghanistan in the Dark Ages. We are hopeful that the future leadership we are talking to in these discussions will prevail and move Afghanistan forward. There will be many obstacles and barriers for these future leaders to contend with as they push for progressive reforms.
April 13, 2007
Holy Day
This is a special day here as most people don’t go to work so the RI staff planned a picnic at a park beside river number five. Sounds like fun, right? Wait and see!
Food, water, carpets and the RI staff piled into 3 vehicles as we began our trek. It was early (7:30-8:00 am) and the day looked clean and the temperature was mild. Three hours later we arrived at the site totally whipped. The paved road had soon turned to dirt and gravel, then to a rocky river bed followed by a detour that few cars in the US would have attempted. Our drive to the historical site proved to be one big video game. Passing with little room, honking the horn at cars that had nowhere to go on narrow roads and speeding like a maniac. The three of us were packed into the back seat of the Helix - a Toyota 2 seat 4 wheel drive truck. We bounced and bounced. It was really a fairly miserable trip up the mountains. The saving grace in this excursion was the beauty of the mountains and the valley as we bounced along the road help to provide some relief.
We finally stopped at a pretty park area beside the river named Farkhar. The river known as the “river number 5”, was flowing fast but was very brown; not very appealing.
Kabobs were being cooked outside of a building that was “the restaurant.” The RI Staff unloaded the carpets, placed them on the ground and we were ready for our picnic. A pick-up soccer game was organized with many of the others who were enjoying the park. The soccer game turned out to be relaxing and tiring all-in-all a very enjoyable event. The restaurant brought us plates and the food. We ate a wonderful meal of shishkabobs, fruit, and nan. Steve found out that playing soccer at such a high altitude will soon wear a person out and used the time after lunch to recuperate after the soccer game. Laura, Linda, and Mumtaza stretched out on the carpets and rested deciding playing soccer was too much fun for them.
Laura and Linda braved the bathroom. It was disgusting with piles of human feces on the floor. Even though there were 4 stalls with doors, the pit toilets were almost full. It was unisex restroom but women rarely go to the park, let alone use the “facilities.” We cannot understand why the toilet facilities are so primitive. Even outhouses in Kansas were always 500% cleaner than in Afghanistan. It’s difficult to find even a nasty restroom.
Our drive home began with us switching to another vehicle a Toyota van that the guys said had better shock absorbers than the truck. The windows didn’t all open so it was a hotter ride but we had more space and bounced less.
Shortly before we left the park a guy came down from the mountains carrying a Kalishnakov and Steve was able to get his picture taken holding the thing. It was fully loaded and he figured we’d better be getting out of there before trouble found us and Ebad (RI staff from Kabul) agreed.
A guest house in the park was the headquarters for a famous Mujhadeen Afghan general known as the Tiger of Takhar (Ahmadshoh Masud) who fought against the Russians and Taliban who later killed him. One room remains the way he left it and we were able to go inside but were allowed to take any pictures. All the RI staff spoke of the man with great reverence.
Back to the drive – it was somewhat uneventful except for few more life threatening events. The driver tried to pass a truck full of logs that had stopped in the dirt road to assist another log truck which was mired in mud. He came within an inch of scraping the logs. He couldn’t wait for the truck driver to pull forward to give him room to pass. Zia and Mumtaza yelled at him to stop but it was a close call.
The closer we got to Taloqan the faster he drove. Once again, people and animals were dodging us. He honked at cars that had no place to move to. A car backed out of a driveway in our lane with another car approaching from the opposite direction. Sabir didn’t put on the brakes until the last moment. While on the dirt toad the dust was so bad that we couldn’t see the front of the van; yet he drove fast and we prayed that we wouldn’t rear-end another vehicle. A few blocks from the Agha Khan guest house he came dreadfully close to hitting a boy carrying a jug of gasoline. The only reason the boy is alive was that he jumped before we could hit him. Mumtaza says that drivers in Kabul are worse and that the ones in Jalalabad are the worst of all. They run red lights, etc. We have not, however, seen any traffic lights or stop signs in Taloqan. It has become obvious that there are no laws for the highways.
We were filthy dirty from all the dust. Linda and Laura were for once grateful for the scarves they were required to wear as they were able to cover their faces and filter out some of the crud. Steve tried to use his hands to breathe in less of the fine silt dust but it seemed to permeate every pore of our bodies.
Parts of our drive were very beautiful. There was irrigation on one side of the road and the landscape was lush green in color. On the opposite side (uphill) it as brown, rocky and not as pretty. We were impressed with how high up on the mountainside that the villagers farmed. We have never before seen crops on land that high or that steep. Some mountain sides were covered with Pistachio trees, a main source of income for villagers. Just harvesting the nuts would be a monumental feat due to the steepness of the terrain. We saw farmers plowing using donkeys. Donkeys were everywhere – a basic and vital mode of transportation in Afghanistan.
April 14, 2007
Our First Experience with the Afghan Educational System
Today we visited a girl’s school (Bibi Morgan School for Girls) in Taloqan. There are so many students that they have to run three shifts in order to provide an education to all the girls who would like to attend. Almost immediately upon entering the complex we were met by a young lady who had been attending the discussions at the RI ILC. Unlike Tajikistan where the ILCs are located at the schools in Afghanistan they are separate from each other as the schools have no power in order to run the computer labs. School starts at 7 AM and ends at 4 PM in order to allow the girls enough time to get back home. We met with the director of the school and held a small discussion of education in Afghanistan and the US. She then gave us a tour. This girl’s school and a boy’s school are the only two schools the Afghan authorities would give RI permission to allow us to visit. They are for Afghanistan their model, elite schools. Most of the classes were being held outside under blue tarps or old UN tents and with the girls sitting on the ground. Considering the conditions it was remarkable to see the girls and their teachers engaged in lessons on chemistry, literature, and learning different languages. Even under these Spartan conditions education was finding a way to help Afghan children to become literate. If Afghanistan is to have any hope of a brighter future the seeds are being sown in these schools with these students. In each classroom we encountered many students we had previously met at the ILC. In several classrooms we were engaged in conversations with young ladies who demonstrated active and inquisitive minds. Their questioning minds and energetic spirit offered to us an opportunity to see the possibility of progress taking hold in Afghanistan through their young and active personalities.
Our next stop was a women’s NGO, Afghan Women’s Rehabilitation Center, under the direction of Fazila Karimi who had been a geometry teachers before the 25 years of constant warfare had begun in Afghanistan. She established her NGO 6 years ago after war had left many women with no means to support themselves or their families. The purpose of the NGO is to help women develop the skills to become economically independent. For a long time this has been the only agency, government or NGO, offering any services to Afghani women. Her NGO currently supports 9 skills programs designed to teach Afghan women in 1 year to become self-sufficient. Before we departed this NGO all of us purchased some clothing items made by the women at the NGO as a way to help further Fazila’s cause for Afghan women. Seems not everyone appreciates her work. Just a month before we arrived a bomb was exploded outside her compound damaging a long section of the wall and destroying her car. Fortunately no one was injured as the bomb exploded prematurely before the school had opened and any women had arrived.
After a lunch at the Agha Khan House it was back to the RI ILC and more meetings with Afghan teachers and students. This time I planned on keeping the presentation low-key in order to avoid the chaotic types of discussions of the previous meetings. The presentation included examples of my students’ work that they have shared with our partner schools in Tajikistan and Palestine. Linda showed an example of a magazine about Afghanistan that her students’ had prepared What seemed to us to be an innocuous presentation once again ignited another firestorm and bedlam of discussion concerning why Afghan students and/or teachers could not complete the same level of collaboration. The comments almost always seem to come back to requests for more money or aide from the US to help them complete the work necessary. There is an obviously fatalistic mentality here, which is more than likely the result of 30 years of warfare and centuries of conflict in Afghanistan.
We had decided earlier to make an attempt to get to the market before 4:00 PM in order to shop in the market with it mostly open. Our other attempts at the market were always around 5 PM or later when the market was shut or in the process of shutting down because of the lack of electricity. This time we were able to purchase some Pakul’s the hats of the Afghan Mujhadeen that had fought the Soviets and the Taliban in the northern part of Afghanistan. The people in the Takhar Province were very proud of the fact that they had been able to become a major thorn in the side of the Taliban.
Looking at my passport before going to bed I noticed there was no entry stamp into Afghanistan. I remarked to Linda that I hoped that would not be an issue as it seemed strange. Boy were those words going to prove to be prophetic!
April 15, 2007
More Exposure to the Afghan Educational System
The early morning hours were spent visiting an Afghan boy’s school. There was a light-hearted moment when we met with the local official of the Office of Education and he presented the women with gifts of flowers. Someone pointed out to him that I was also a visiting US teacher to which he replied that he thought I was an Afghani because I was wearing the Pakul I bought at the market. While touring the boy’s school we noticed that the classrooms much like the girl’s school lacked any resources: books, desks, chalk, lab materials. In most of the classes the boys were sitting on the floor in a couple of classrooms students were crammed four on benches behind desks made for two students. As austere as the school was unlike the girl’s school no classes were being held outdoors on the ground.
The afternoon was once again spent at the RI ILC were we three American teachers attempted to teach a lesson using American methodologies to both Afghan teachers and students who had gathered. The lesson turned out for us to be a test on how to manage Afghan chaos and still teach. Once again, what we had designed to be a simple and conflict-free exercise turned out to be a major event involving Afghan culture and politics. I saw Mumtaza watching the whole affair and grinning from ear-to-ear as she was clearly enjoying watching someone else deal with the pandemonium she tries to work with everyday. We are astonished and amazed that Mumtaza and her RI staff are able to accomplish anything in the unruliness and commotion that have become imbedded in the Afghan culture.
We made a trip to the dry goods market to purchase some pistachios and cookies that we enjoyed before dinner and later that night with a cup of tea before the lights went out. During these discussions we become even more aware of how amazing Mumtaza is as she tells us about her ordeal in Uzbekistan when the government tried to arrest her as a criminal because she worked for an NGO with US ties. She was offered amnesty by the United States but turned it down because even if she and her family left Uzbekistan for the US the rest of her family left behind would be constantly harassed by the government. She was willing to risk prison to protect her family from a corrupt government. Unfortunately tomorrow we will get a chance to see firsthand Mumtaza’s commitment to principles.
April 16, 2007
If Only Our Passports Could Talk
This part of our story would certainly be best told by our passports as they experienced the really crucial parts and I’m sure they would tell a much more intriguing story than I will.
Our day started as they had always with the Imam’s calling of the prayers around 5 AM. We loaded up the van for the trip back to the Shir Bandar Border Post to go back into Tajikistan. The wind was blowing very strongly the driver of the van had trouble keeping it on the highway. The fine dust was being blown into the air giving it a grey quality. You could feel the fine powder saturating everything, our bodies and our possessions. Once again we were passing through the plain and stark Afghan countryside that was sporadically dotted with the tent villages we had passed 5 days earlier. The shepherds were still tending to their sheep, cattle, donkeys, and camels that were scattered throughout the pasture land we passed. We stopped to take pictures with an Afghani and his camels he was moving to a new grassy area. We passed through the city of Kunduz where we stopped to purchase candy and cakes for Ebad’s friend at the border. We were later told that soon after leaving Kunduz that a suicide bomber had killed 10 police officers in the city. This was the start of a chain of events that would soon impact our journey.
We shared tea and cakes with Ebad’s border friend while waiting for the border posts to open at 9:30 AM. Ebad’s friend escorted us over to the first station in an unmarked building. It turns out that none of the buildings on the Afghan side are marked in any manner that anyone visiting would need to know in order to move back and forth between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. Once in the building I gave our three passports to the Afghan custom’s official who took them into another room and shut the door. We waited outside in another ascetically adorned room. After a few minutes they called my name and I went into the room with Ebad who would act as my interpreter. At first they were not going to let him in, thank God they did. As soon as I entered the room and they closed the door it was immediately apparent that something was not right. The two guards in the room were very stern and abrupt in their questioning of Ebad. It seems that when we arrived our passports had in fact not been properly processed; we were missing our entry stamps.
Ebad and I explained that when we arrived 5 days ago we had in fact passed off our passports to an official at the docks. He gave them back to us and we left the border area passing two more check points where we were stopped and questioned however our passports were never asked for after the first official. We were given clearance to leave at every checkpoint and as there were no signs indicating we needed to stop at the unmarked building why would we.
So back to the small room and the two guards. They kept questioning Ebad in Dari and saying that this was a very serious matter. I think that the bombing in Kunduz was playing a large role in this whole affair. Of course at the time we did not know about the bombing. There was nervousness in the building and outside lots of movement of people with guns as more security was being put in place. One official finally said to me to sit down in a chair and he left the room with all three passports. The passports would be traveling around a lot after this point. This made me extremely nervous as I had no idea where they were or who had them. I envisioned them somehow getting “lost” and then the situation getting even more extreme. I was told at this point that they felt they needed to call the officials in Kunduz to come and we would be placed in a jail while a local judge or official would decide our case.
At this point I left the room and found Mumtaza to explain to her the situation. She said not to worry as this was a normal routine to shake down people especially Americans and that all they wanted was money. It was just a matter of deciding how much they wanted. Turns out that this wasn’t so normal because of the bombing in Kunduz.
The next 4 hours were spent watching our passports move in and out of the building. During this time several cars would come to the building with very official looking people getting out and holding discussions over our fate. Each car and official appeared to be higher up the bribery chain. I finally had had enough and told Mumtaza the next time she and Ebad met with the border officials they were to inform them I was contacting the US embassy. Dan who had given us the security briefing in Dushanbe upon our arrival had given us his card with directions to us it if we found ourselves in any kind of trouble, this seemed to qualify. Just holding Dan’s card gave us some sense of security as the condition was becoming more severe at the border. At each meeting between the Afghan authorities and Mumtaza and Ebad voices were getting raised to higher and higher levels. Mumtaza made it clear that no bribe would be paid. Even though I knew this could prove to be dangerous we agreed with her whole-heartedly.
Ironically, Greg called from Dushanbe as our driver Murot was getting concerned as he had been waiting for 3 hours for us to arrive in Tajikistan. I informed Greg of our situation and he said he would call Dan at the U.S. Embassy. Even though no one was sure what the Embassy could do it was nice to know at least someone else would be working on rectifying this situation.
For the next 3 hours there were officials constantly entering and exiting the building sometimes with our passports, sometimes without our passports. We would have loved to hear what they heard as our fate was being debated. While this debate was unfolding several BMWs and other official vehicles with diplomatic plates drove up to get clearance across into Tajikistan were it turns out a major meeting of top Central Asian government officials was being held. One carload was refused permission to leave as they had Iranian documents and could not cross. This did not make us any less nervous as they were now refusing people with diplomatic passports to leave. This bombing had created a lot of anxiety. The Takhar Province was supposed to be safe from the Taliban and today’s bombing had really unnerved people in the area. If life is timing our timing today was all over the place, lucky enough to miss the bombing but not lucky enough to get across the border before the bombing angst got there. While we were waiting to see if jail was in the cards or not, a Tajik doctor told us she had a message from Murot our driver on the other side of the river. Seems Murot knew this doctor and asked her to find us. She gave us his cell phone number and we called Murot and Jahonjir to tell them of our current plight.
Finally Mumtaza and Ebad brought out a yellow legal pad on it with a statement written in Dari that said we admitted we made a mistake not the Afghan authorities and we were told if we signed it we would be allowed to go. It seemed that at this point the Afghan border guards were no longer interested in a bribe but wanted to protect themselves from the mistake that had been made 5 days ago, what could have been used as a money maker was now seen by them as an incredible inconvenience that because of the bombing in Kunduz could cause them to lose their jobs. Circumstances were beginning to change in our favor. We felt like hostages that were being forced to sign something that would turn up on CNN or NBC that night as a lead story on how three Americans had admitted to being spies for the U.S. We really had no idea what we were signing as none of us reads Dari. We had to trust the RI staff fully on the interpretation of the document. So somewhere in the bureaucratic files of the Afghan border sits a documents with our three signatures on it admitting we violated Afghan law. We suppose if we ever decided to go back they could dig that document up and use it against us somehow. We will never forget the incredible work that Mumtaza and her staff did to make a very bad situation not get worse. They are incredible professions that RI should be very proud to have working in their organization.
Needless to say we got our passports and high-tailed it to the boat to get across the Punji River as quickly as possible. Before they could change their minds, which was a distinct possibility. There were no lingering goodbyes with Mumtaza or the RI staff. Which made us sad as in the 5 days we had been there we had developed bonds with them. However they and we knew it was best to take advantage of the break and get out of Afghanistan pronto. We literally jumped on the boat and threw our baggage on the deck. None of us breathed comfortably until we felt the boat hit dirt on the Tajik side of the river and even then we had decided there would be no smiles until we made it through Tajik customs and were in the possession of the RI staff in Tajikistan. When we landed in Tajikistan we felt like a fish in a bowl. Everyone seemed to be starring at us even more than usual. We wondered what this could foretell for us? When we reached the first Tajik check point after our crowded van ride. This time the van had more people and baggage but luckily no treadmill. The Tajik guard let us go before everyone else in line when he found out who we were. Seems our story of trying to get out of Afghanistan had made it to the Tajik side. We had become something like celebrities on the Tajik side. The Tajik passport control official said the Afghani’s are always up to something no good. We even heard a story about a Tajik who had to travel back and forth between Tajikistan and Afghanistan and would always stop before coming into Tajikistan to get the Afghan dirt off his shoes as he felt it was bad soil that had bad conflict attached to it. It never felt so good to get through Tajik customs and finally emerge with our driver Murot and Jahonjir waiting for us. There were very firm handshakes and hugs exchanged all around. On the way back to Dushanbe Murot asked us what we would like. We all said something cold to drink. We stopped in a small village and purchased some cold beverages along with Tajik candy and cookies to hold us over on the 3 hour trip back to Dushanbe. It is hard to describe how much it felt like getting back into Tajikistan was like returning home. We wanted to do nothing more than get all of the Afghan dust off us and our belongings as we believed the Tajik who said the soil was bad and carried conflict with it. Seeing Dushanbe emerge as we crossed the mountains into the city was a wonderful sight to behold. The surreal episode at the Afghan border was becoming more and more of a bad memory that almost seemed to have been more of a dream that an actual reality. Everything around us the air, sights, sounds, rivers, villages seemed to possess a new vitality that had been missing during our excursion into Afghanistan. We will never forget the wonderful staff at RI in Afghanistan and will always be concerned about their safety as they work against a power current of opposition to their progressive cause.
We learned in Dushanbe that Greg’s phone call to Dan at the US Embassy had started a chain of events that had led to phone calls being placed to the Afghan Embassy and the Tajik Border Station.