Sylvia's Journal

We create most of our own stresses. Here, in this country, these self-made stresses are put on top of stresses that others created: social, financial, political, technical, etc. I got a taste of the self-made ones today and it gave me a headache so big that I am ready to go to bed at 7 PM.

We met with the minister to discuss two urgent issues. There are doomsday scenarios if the issues don’t get resolved quickly. I have questions about the accuracy of the doomsday scenarios but was in no position to challenge or ask questions, given the set up.

Anyone who has an audience with the minister, of lower status than his excellency, first waits in a large but windowless ante-room, populated entirely by middle-aged men, some in suits, others in local attire. Then one is ushered into his inner sanctum.

Two rows of matching couches and arm chairs, facing each other, with low tables in between lead to a small table with an Aeron chair behind it and a small contraption that I later discovered is a bell that rings in the ante-room and immediately produces a younger man who serves tea and cake, brings paper or ushers in other people.

Whoever sits in the chairs closest to the minister gets to have his ear while those further back wait for their turn. Then as one is finished and gets up the people in the back move towards the front. It’s a clever system that moves people fast. We got exactly half an hour. No chit-chat. The military, 3 men and one woman, took our places near the front. I was curious about their agenda but we had to leave. They got to hear our discussions.

The big event in Herat is coming into focus and the enormous detail that the US contingent needs, probably because of security and not wanting any surprises, has kept us busy all day to the point of a big headache.

I discover in person what I have learned from the literature: the higher you go the less need there is for technical knowledge about public health. Technical considerations in the decision making processes called for today were consistently trumped by political considerations. As a senior person you need some good technicians on your staff or in your pool of consultants, but that is not the skill set that is asked of me here and now. Yet there is the illusion that technical skills are the most critical, even, or especially at the highest levels. I don’t think so.

I finally had my first long conversation with my new boss, an Afghan doctor who has worked with MSH since the 80s. Our talk was interrupted several times by calls from this then that person at USAID who wanted more details or (re)direct our attention (which it did). Eventually we completed my agenda, with a new set of marching orders for me.

I escaped to my office, a small square room that is wedged in between the Security office where there is much coming and going and the provincial capacity building advisor, one of my staff. It is a bright sunny office that looks out into the garden, and sits on the outer perimeter of our compound. I have my new Chinese bookcases, unpacked my book shipments, I got a slightly larger Chinese desk than the dinky one I had before, a fancy (also Chinese) contraption to hang my scarf and coats on, a printer, a landline phone and two cellphone numbers, one pre-paid, the other post-paid (subscription). Like many Afghans, I am now a two-fisted cellphoner.

Even though my spot is a bit noisy I like it because I feel more out in the world (as much as one can in a compound that looks like a prison from the outside). When I walk out of my door I am outside rather than in another office or hallway. And the grapes are all around me, that is probably the most joyful part right now.