At this point in our work we are desperately trying to
finish all the tasks we have set ourselves. Our project has five components,
and so we each get to spend hours trying to get our heads around alphabetical
acronyms so beloved of development agencies – PMF, RBF, PIP – as well as the
infamous Implementation Matrix. It was at about day 4 that I wished I hadn’t
brought my light little notebook with me but rather a 30” mega laptop - I'm
getting fed up with this tiny computer screen!
We’re become so busy that we no longer even leave the hotel
unless we have to! We each sit in our rooms, or in a small open area on the
second floor, and sometimes we congregate for meals. The sun is shining and the
sky is blue, people are sitting in the garden enjoying the shade of the two big
pine trees in the courtyard, but we survive on artificial light and the cooling
power of the air conditioner.
Most days are the same, a bit like that film “Groundhog Day”,
but recent days have been enlivened by two unusual events. First, someone
decided that the restaurant here in the hotel is now closed at lunchtime. This
was discovered when we went along to get lunch, so I had to go to Plan B.
Plan B meant getting my own lunch. For some strange reason,
in my room I had a can of mackerel in oil, and a jar of olives. But I had no
bread, and tinned mackerel without bread is like … well, nothing at all,
really!
So I had to go out. This involved leaving the hotel and
going past ‘our’ security team, then walking down our little street to a
slightly bigger one. Here there is a barricade, with Afghan National Police on
duty. They raise the barricade and let you through, and then you have to pick
your way down the rutted slightly bigger street, past a row of shops (mainly
hairdressers ["wedding preparation our special skill"] and barbers, as
well as a small general store and a slightly larger so-called supermarket) and
then across the main road to the bakery, to buy a round of naan.
My colleague Tony came with me and we made it across the
road, soft-stepping between the cars like all the Afghans we've been watching -
as one of my colleagues in Kosovo used to say, "you have to be one with
the traffic" - and bought the bread, then back across the road safely. As
we walked back down the middle-sized street Tony said, "hang on, I'll see if
they have yoghurt", and disappeared into the general store. I waited
outside. A man came out of the barber's shop and sat down on his steps. He
looked at me, and proceeded (by mime and the odd Dari word I understood) to
tell me I should come in to his shop and he would trim my beard and cut down my
little tufts at the side of my head!
Of course I declined – it may have made a good story, but what
would Paula at Blue Note say if I let someone else cut my hair? Nobody else has
touched it since she cut it when I popped in the day before my interview for
UPEI, back in 2008. I got the job, and she got a customer.
Tony got his yoghurt, and we kept walking, and in the
supermarket I bought a cucumber and some oranges, then we came back to the
hotel. The ANP opened the barrier to let us through, and as we entered the
security team opened our bags to check what was inside, and gave us the usual
pat down, but my naan cleared their scrutiny and I had a good lunch.
Second, after our meeting this morning, I needed to go to
the bank and change some money, I also needed to buy some more credit for my
Afghan phone, as I was down to my last 20 Afs (about 40 cents) and that wouldn’t
give me too many calls.
“No problem!” said Jawed, our driver, “give me the money!”
So I gave him 500 Afs ($10) for the phone top-up, and US$50
for the bank, and suddenly we stopped on a street corner. Jawed whistled, and a
man came out from under the shade of a tree where he had been sitting with
friends. Moments later I had my phone card, and my 2500 Afs.
So there you have it - another exciting couple of days in
Afghanistan!
No comments:
Post a Comment