Sylvia's Journal

Our workshop venue is in between the TB ward, the infectious diseases ward and the mortuary, so it may be more dangerous here than in Kabul where gunmen created mayhem and death. Dangers are lurking everywhere in this country, but then, amazing and wonderful things are also staring at you at every street corner – a grandpa climbing over a walk to fetch his little grand or great-granddaughter; and the ancient looking seller of mysterious perfumes sitting by the side of the road. I showed him the picture that I took of him and his wares. He looked at the small display on my camera and I wondered what he thought. Magic? Weird foreigneress?

I am watching the group process that is created by my colleague. I don’t quite agree with his approach and we skirmish a bit on how to proceed. He’s impatient, as most foreign fly-in consultants are because their time frame is short. Now that I live here I see things differently. I try to get people in the habit of reflecting on what they are doing, seeing the big picture, how does what they do fit into the larger whole – because that sort of reflection is not happening. Everyone is so focused on small tasks. People are engaged with the individual trees and losing sight of the woods as a result. Every new consultant brings in new assignments that may look large and important to them, but in the greater scheme of things produce yet another set of tasks that suck up attention and energy.

We recognize that we have a fundamental philosophical difference about how people learn. My colleague thinks people learn from working on their own and then have their work product critically reviewed in plenary to correct errors and deepen the reasoning. I believe in coaching people in the intimacy of their small work group so that what the groups finally present in plenary is the best possible product. I wonder if this is the kind of philosophical difference that cannot be bridged with compelling arguments.

After lunch I asked to be taken on a tour of the hospital to get some pictures of healthcare in action. It is a regional hospital and people come from all over. I followed the man in charge of the cold chain, I call him Mr. Cool Man but he doesn’t understand that that is funny. He keeps correcting me, emphasizing that he is Mr. Cold Chain man. He is very serious about being addressed with the right title.

We first went to the first aid section where a doctor and a male nurse attended to patients that walked in or were carried in. They were all pleased to pose. I asked if I could take pictures of the patients, victims and families. My security guard and Mr. Cold Chain shrugged but I insisted they ask. No one seemed to mind and most posed with big smiles, except those who were crying or suffering or simply too ill to respond. Occasionally a woman steps out of my picture frame and covers her head. I am surprised that not all women do that. There are discarded burqas, scarves and abayas all over the place. The clothes that the women wear underneath their wraps are exposed in all their wonderful colors.

After we checked in with our Kabul based colleagues to find out what was rumor and what was fact about the early morning attacks, we, the two foreigners only, are ordered back to our hotel at 3 PM. I am both touched about the concern for our well being and annoyed that we have to leave the group. Luckily our Afghan colleagues are allowed to stay and we know the work is in good hands with them.