I missed a post yesterday because I was sick, floored by some GI virus but also heart sick because of the latest attacks on guesthouses where foreigners reside. We were supposed to have gone on an outing to Bandi Qargha, a lake on the outskirts of Kabul, but we chose not to after we heard of the attacks. We watched the scenes of destruction on local TV with horror.
This morning, after a feverish night full of dreams about trying to improve organizational processes at the ministry of public health, we both went to see the doctor. It was a follow up visit for Axel and for me a first visit. The doctor took my blood pressure and noted it higher than normal. Maybe it was the combination of being sick and the nightmare of these recurrent attacks in Kabul or maybe it is the slow building up of stress that I remember from living in another war zone, in Beirut, 33 years ago. It creeps up on you
To get to the doctor we had to drive into town, not far from where the blasts and fighting took place. Shop windows everywhere were shattered and everyone was busy replacing or pasting the broken glass back together. The scenes of destruction and the resulting traffic mess left me depressed.
On days like this I do wonder, why are we bothering to learn Dari, go through all this effort to help Afghanistan. Can it be done? Is it worth it? For the first time since my arrival here now five months ago I felt overwhelmed by the demands of living and working here.
This is, I suppose, why we are let out every three months, to go to a place where there are no razor wires, blast walls, sand bags and men with guns everywhere. Some organizations let their staff leave every 6 or 8 weeks and I have come to realize that my limit may be 10 weeks.
Our Beirut trip is within view, less than 2 weeks from now. The grey weather and the bad things happening here make me want to speed up the days that separate us from our departure.
Sylvia's Journal 
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