Sylvia's Journal

I am seeing from the other side what it takes to get the necessary papers for study abroad, even if it is only a four-week course. My colleague has been working for weeks now on getting the necessary papers to obtain other necessary papers to obtain the coveted visa stamp in his passport. It’s a daunting task that we would mostly acocmplish by telephone and fax. But here it requires going places and sitting in waiting rooms for hours. The to-do list is long and would faze even the most committed student. It all seemed so simple from the receiving end. I have a new appreciation for the hoops that foreign students who come to Boston University have had to jump through.

And so I was on my own while he was in hot pursuit of more signatures. I took the shuttle to the ministry where I now know the female checkpoint guard who wanted my red dress. I can find my way around without Dr. Ali and actually move much faster through the courty than when he is by my side. I find the office where the internal DG staff meeting is held which is about to start, right on time. I am to be a fly on the wall – which I can even say in Dari: magas ba dewal hastam.

Two people from the European Union are seated at the meeting table, the chief sits behind his desk and the rest, his direct reports or their deputies, sit behind the large table or on chairs that are pushed against the wall. It is crowded and sort of intimate. I find a chair in the furthest corner and try to be inconspicuous. I had not intended to be on the agenda but when the meeting is nearly over I am given the floor, introduced as ‘her excellency.’

I know one of the European consultants from my previous trip but not the other. So I speak carefully to avoid stepping on toes or give the slightest hint that I am encroaching on another donor’s territory. I am after all from the American camp.

I introduce myself as a psychologist and explain that my work is about group dynamics, rather than planning. This is a safe; I have not met anyone who explicitly deals with this part of organizational life and there aren’t many ‘rawanshenasa’ around, as my profession is called in Dari.

After the meeting and before I start my rounds of goodbyes I check out the newly renovated unit where two of our expat staff and a large group of Afghan consultants we have hired are embedded to support the ministry’s procurement and contracting work that involves significant amounts of dollars. I come to see how they do the ’embedding’ part. The place is clean, freshly painted and an oasis in the otherwise dingy and dark looking main building of the ministry.

I want to learn from them how we can make the move for the team I work with successful. Unfortunately, for the next batch there aren’t any obviously places to sit, or, even better, empty offices; there is no internet and the toilets are dirty. How this is all going to be worked out is unclear.

I visit the offices of the various officials I have worked with over the last 2 weeks and bid them farewell. It’s a little difficult because the work I did is far from complete – processes that take time, transformations (if they are possible at all) that cannot be orchestrated in half day conversations conducted twice a year.

When we get home we pour ourselves gin tonics with the complements of Steve and sit in the afternoon sun on the steps of Guesthouse 0 and catch up on each others’ workdays with a little bit of gossip thrown in for good measure. Dinner is of the ‘nuke yourself’ variety, with everyone serving him or herself from various newly made and old dishes and then putting them in the microwave one by one – and so we are a little out of sync when we eat but desert gets us aligned again with its many choices (fruit, cake, ice cream) – we leave a little bit of ice cream for a midnight snack for Steve.