Everything had been scripted into the smallest details – a manifestation of America’s position on one of Geert Hofstede’s dimensions of cultural differences (Uncertainty Avoidance ) which happens to be on the opposite end of where Afghanistan sits. Pulling the event off with the most senior people from both governments, simultaneously, and without having to revert to a plan B or C was a feat beyond a feat.
Our first stop in the morning was the basement where the echo chamber of yesterday was transformed into a pleasant carpeted hall with round tables and comfortable chairs and large fruit platters as center pieces. We were all given our badges which meant we were ‘screened.’ I was given two: Mrs. Salivia and Dr. Salivia. I wore the Mrs. badge which I handed in at the end of the day and kept the Dr. one.
My boss and the provincial health director went to the airport to receive the guests and I joined them at the Governor’s palace. We were let into an enormous room that could house several African villages, including livestock. The governor sat at one side of the enormous room, Tara, representing our funder, and I were seated on another side and some of the provincial health directors across from us. This was, I assumed, the same place where one of the more famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Afghan warlords held court until he was promoted to his current government post of minister.
Under the sharp and trigger-ready eye of at least five truckfulls of soldiers, we raced at high speed along cleared road towards a dusty open space at the edge of town with more soldiers than I could shake a stick at; all standing with their backs to their high level protégés and scanning the perimeter for undesirable elements. I managed to stay outside the guarded circle as that seemed safer to me (but then, what do I know). It felt all very sweet and friendly if you could mentally remove the soldiers from view.
From there we raced back to the health office where the minister was received in the training room and given a briefing about the things that will happen in the learning center. There were more speeches, all in Dari, and a certificate ceremony, rewarding the office staff for the learning center that, as far as I know, is still only a concept.
Then we drove off again to have lunch at the Municipal Five Star Hotel that cleverly included the hotel rating system in its name. It is a fancy place where everyone and his brother (and a handful of sisters as well) showed up to have lunch with us (I am sure we will pay the bill), including tons of soldiers and police when suddenly the minister and the governor showed up, to our surprise. The governor had not been invited to the US ambassador’s lunch at the PRT. Although the minister was invited there, he could hardly leave the governor to lunch at his own place with all these notables in town, and so he took him along to our lunch place in the Five Star Hotel. And when the minister and governor show up you have automatically five pick-up trucks with machine guns and armed soldiers.
It was (is) all such a perfect example of the Y-chromosome out of control, all these guys with fast SUVs , guns and walkie-talkies, sunglasses and uniforms; a little boy’s dream come true – many little boys’ dreams come true.
After lunch we raced back again to be at our stations at 1:30 exact, according to the script. Everyone stayed on script. On cue the ambassador and governor and minister appeared all in their separate and highly armed SUVs followed by men with sunglasses and wires coming out of their ears. All of them were welcomed by the cutest little girls in bright costumes singing something about peace that brought all the old warhorses to tears.
Inside the speechifying started on time and ended on time even though several of the people went beyond their 5 minutes. The American ambassador was last and started his speech in Dari which got him a big applause. My colleague was annoyed about the translation of the rest of his (English) speech into Dari, saying it was atrocious but only he seemed to mind.
A quick mini tour, a ribbons cutting that was ingenuous in that 3 people got to cut before the ribbon fell to the ground and then the Americans left in a hurry; their plane has to be back on the ground in Kabul before dark; then the governor left and finally the minister, leaving us with an enormous mess of a traffic jam.
After we high-fived each other I was whisked off to the maternity to see the handy work of my Afghan leadership developers, impressive indeed. I would have liked to stay a little longer and meet some of the women on the wards with their newborns but the bazaar would close and that too was on the program, a whirlwind tour and a stop at a few dusty stores with even more dusty treasures.
Then it hit me that I am living here now and Axel is coming and we can come back here again. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it is true. Contrary to public opinion in the US, I consider myself very lucky indeed to have landed this job here. I love it.
Sylvia's Journal 
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