Sylvia's Journal

As the news about our departure for Afghanistan is spreading, more and more people are introduced to us who have some connection or another to this country. Yesterday morning we went for a walk downtown and introduced ourselves to Denise, the manager of the Nantucket chocolate shop downtown. We had learned that her husband is embedded as an historian with the military in afghanistan. Her 6 year old twins cope, each in their own way, with having their dad in that faraway and scary country.

We exchanged names and email addresses and when Axel pulled a business card out of his wallet I noticed the crisp bills of 100 and 500 Afghani  (this is how we are different, mine were put away in the foreign currency drawer, weeks ago). We gave Denise two bills of 100 for her boys and she repaid us with chocolate truffles. Where else in the US could you exchange Afghani for chocolate truffles? We parted with the plan to connect her kids’ school with Afghan kids who can write in English and have internet access. I think I can find some among my new Afghan colleagues.

We also made contact with DJ’s neighbor Robin, who is enjoying a New England summer in her house in Rockport after four and a half years in Afghanistan. She knows tons of people in our new homeland which is not surprising as communication is her field. It seems that most of our recent contacts are communication people: film makers, strategic communication specialists, writers and journalists. Robin, it turns out, has worked in that capacity with several of the organizations and projects Axel has been trying to contact. We made plans to see each other soon and she will introduce us to others of the community in greater Boston who have a connection with Afghanistan.

For the rest of the day we watched the outer tendrils of hurricane Bill come closer and closer while trying to stay productive in the intense heat and humidity; for me that meant sitting right in front of the fan in my office; Axel was better off in his tiny air-conditioned office. Tessa did the only smart thing and sat on the beach or in/on the water, where Chicha accompanied her for a ride on the surf plank. She finally had a day off.

Somehow, all the experiences, thoughts, worries and anticipations of this and the next weeks wrapped themselves together during the night into a dream or series of dreams. ‘Adverse’ was the word that was on my lips when I woke up and it described well the conditions of people, cars, environment, bodies that were featured; yet everyone was smiling and coping as best as they could, and most importantly, taking great care that I was comfortable and safe. I woke up in a coughing fit just when I was going to call for help to remove, in my dream state, an insect that looked like a flying tick, bulging with my blood but with delicate moth like wings. It had embedded itself firmly in my arm. In Dutch the word for arm is the same as for poor (penniless); adverse indeed.