Sylvia's Journal

The days are long here. We start at 7 AM and just when we are done with the workday here, Boston starts its day and wants answers or data or reports or telephone calls. As a result workdays can easily become 10 to 11 hours long, assuming that you don’t work once you return to the guesthouse (not always true).

At 8 o’clock in the morning we walked by one enormous barricade after another into the gated American community that contains the US embassy, USAID and the ‘hooches’ where the Americans live. I am not sure what a hooch is but I have been told it is a room that is made out of a shipping container.

The Americans cannot get out easily. I was told that they have to request a sortie into Afghanistan (= the city) at least 24 hours in advance and I assume it is probably a hassle. I suddenly realized how incredibly free we are. We can decide spontaneously to eat out in a restaurant pretty much anyplace in town.

The meeting with our funders was to explain our budget for the quick impact work in the south and the east, and present our case for how we think this will work and why it will cost so much. Getting in and out of the actual offices takes nearly as long as a meeting itself, which is why on routine missions temporary duty staff like me are usually not asked to debrief there. But I am no longer considered temporary. The formal submission of my CV by MSH had been received and I think I will soon be confirmed in my new position. It is a key staff position, hence the lengthy and formal process. I was warmly welcomed by the USAID staff so I think all is well.

Once out of the fortified compound Steve and I mingled for a few hundred meters with ordinary Afghans and walked to the nearby ministry of health, also fortified but not quite as much as the Americans. A container with its front and rear end removed leads you from the barricaded entrance into the ministry’s compound which is a lovely garden. It is full of roses and other flowers, small seating areas (always occupied by men, rarely by women), pergolas and pathways that meander through. I am always surprised how full the garden is with people. They sit and talk in twos or small clusters here and there. I wonder what they are talking about. Is it business, the family or gossip?

I had a meeting with another Director General, as per my scope of work, which served as both a follow up of the work done 2 months ago and also a reconnaissance of what they would like to see happening in the near future. Our project’s work planning process for project year 4 starts when I come back here and I need to know what to put in that plan. This time I cannot dodge the responsibility for the plan as I have successfully done back at headquarters. Being senior staff I hope I can influence the process to be more a bit more meaningful and creative.

I am getting plenty of opportunities to practice my new skills of saying no to invitations. First we were invited for lunch at the DG. I said ‘thank you, that is very kind but we have to go back to our office.’ One of my colleagues proudly said to the assembly of men that I am learning the Afghan way and that I am a good student; everyone laughed and we said our goodbyes. A few floors down we stuck our head around the door of the child health department where the chief was having lunch with his staff. We received another invitation and I declined politely. I am getting the hang of this!

Back in the office we met with one of the consultants to discuss his work and next steps. I did not agree with the approach taken and voiced my concern in a way that is not very Afghan. I think my new boss was a little taken aback; this is certainly not his style. I will have to work on polishing my ways of airing disagreements, but I felt too strongly about the matter to remain silent. Others who had expressed concern privately, did not speak out during the meeting. That’s how things work here it seems and it essentially clogs up feedback loops. I am thinking about buying the movie about the Abilene paradox (going someplace where no one wants to go) so that we develop shorthand for such ventures (“are we going to Abilene?”)

I met with one of my new supervisees to review the work of his department and learned much about the joys and frustrations of his work. Again we talked about being straightforward or not and I learned that for Afghans like him who have much experience working with foreigners he prefers them because he can be honest, while he cannot with his fellow countrymen, for all sorts of reasons. He would, for example, never go to my boss to talk about something that I did wrong. From what I gather none of the Afghans would do such a thing.

Axel and I decided to go out again. I wanted him to see yet another restaurant, a Texmex place called La Cantina. When I told Patrick, who has been dreaming about beer, that the restaurant serves such a drink, he enthusiastically accepted the invitation to join us. Maria Pia and Nurajan also joined us, each eager to get out of the house. We had two beers each (a tremendous treat) which constituted half of our bill. The other half was for the meal itself: tortillas filled with all sorts of spicy stuff. On our way out we took pictures with the armed guard which they asked to email us. Everyone has email now.