Sylvia's Journal

Today was mostly a down day that started with more computer problems leading me back to my old computer with the fused keys. Somehow they had unfused. And so I requested to get it back, disappointing my IT colleague who was happily installing his programs and data on the nice small machine.

On days like this I find myself particularly sensitive to everything that is bad, crooked, dishonest, tiresome, unfair, not just here in Afghanistan but anywhere else in the world.

I get tired of the toxic air that has left black deposits on every horizontal surface in my office – a simple act of sorting through paper leaves my hands gray. It is no wonder that my throat produces a thick layer of glue-like mucus that I cannot dislodge because it is there for a reason. Everything is wrong, even the heat that I try to combat with a ventilator that swirls everything that is loose.

I am tired of hearing about people not playing by the rules – a daily occurrence I should have gotten used to be now. Although none of this is new, I am tired of seeing Afghans happily helping themselves to the tax monies of people from other countries while refusing to pay taxes themselves. I am tired of too many things that are not right.

I get depressed of the continued hopelessness of what the US military is trying to do, of Karzai’s double game, and Pakistan’s double game. Last night I read more unsavory reports about the misdeeds of Kabul Bank that is now busy advertising itself as the New Kabul Bank on local TV hoping everyone will forget quickly about its tainted predecessor. Some days I get so very tired and despondent about all of this.

On a day like this my judgmental self gets the better of me and I lift myself above the fray or, equally destructive, I feel sorry for myself. I resent having to be good, productive, efficient, culturally competent, sensitive, understanding, politically correct. I resent having to be at work for 11 hours. It is too much. I miss having my best friend at home to vent. This is, I suppose, why they let us out every now and then. The truth is, on days like this I terribly miss being home.

The one great thing today that lifted my spirits was the food left by the cook for my dinner: a great Afghan salad (made with yogurt), a spicy cold gazpacho and the most wonderful fruits, cleaned, peeled and cut into a salad, plus a little bit of the bottle of Chianti that I savor in very small glasses, taking days to finish the bottle. Reading messages and seeing pictures from back home put the finishing touches to my mood adjustment.