We spent three and a half hours in a strategy and teambuilding meeting with the entire team minus one. He had to deal with passport and visa issues, something I have great sympathy for as I am still not sure how to get my Bangladesh visa in time for takeoff, just over a week from now over Thanksgiving week.
We reviewed the last two weeks and all the events that happened. They appeared disparate and unconnected from one another but not to those of us who were involved in all four; we moved from central level NGOs, to provincial level mixed teams, to the DG team and finally the entire collection in one room. It was a perfect assignment for me – two weeks of nothing but designing and watching the design come to life.
We ended the team meeting with an exercise around learning styles that resonated much with everyone as they guessed, mostly right, who had what kind of learning style; there were many aha’s and much laughing but also, I think, some recognition that all styles produce important contributions to the team’s task. I am not sure that the idea that they have a team task has taken root yet – last time I was fooled they had but now I am more realistic. It’s a novel concept and there are few role models.
I was sent out of the room at the end because they were collecting contributions for a present which was bought by the secretary and Ali and offered with much photo taking, after work hours in an empty office. One of the gifts was a porcelain ring box with Egyptian motif made in China, bought in Afghanistan which will be transported to Holland and then the US. The world is indeed flat.
Pia, who used to work at MSH and set up our office some 5 or 6 years ago, came to say hello to old friends. She has her own company now and spends much time in Jalalabad and other places that are much less secure than Kabul. Like me (and Axel and Joan) she is an unlikely survivor of a horrendous (car)crash and bears a long scar on her head, horizontal, as opposed to Axel’s vertical one. We went to the guesthouse and had a real social event in our salon, which looks like an antechamber to a carpet store with all those rugs from Steve. For food and drink we did not have much to offer other than toot and tea (or water, diet coke or fanta). This did not matter because the company was entertaining enough, with Steve, Maria, then Brad and Maureen joining us later.
Pia and I took off for my first night out (which she found unbelievable so it was a rescue mission of sorts). I finally had my long awaited coronas and two tacos thrown in for good measure but not until after a wild ride all over Kabul searching first for Pia’s hotel and then the restaurant. It was a little unnerving because the driver kept saying he knew where these two places were when he did not but could not say so and of course our Dari and his English were no good for serious talk about such matters. At night the streets are fairly empty except for a few trucks and cars and of course the ubiquitous large SUVs scurrying foreigners around who have to escape their confining quarters. Being lost was particularly nerve wrecking when the driver stopped in front of a heavily guarded building with floodlights and suspicious guards coming out of the dark with large guns. After that the coronas were especially wonderful.
We met John and SueAnn from another NGO who are used to go out at night and manage to get their daily rations of alcohol, so unlike us in hotel zero. John worked for Hillary’s campaign but is nevertheless happy with our new president. John is a temporary visitor like me (TDYers we are called); his colleague works in Kabul. For Pia Kabul was a haven of peace even though she was busy on her cell phone arranging for armored cars for their staff doing reconstruction in the East and South. The freedom and normalcy of Kabul made her giddy. Everything is a matter of perspective. I was reminded of Beirut again. John had lived in Beirut and studied at AUB. I rarely meet anyone who has lived in Beirut. Of course neither one of us knew the Beirut the other described, given there was about 30 years in between.
At 10 PM the driver arrived and this time, unlike 7 months ago, I immediately recognized the car and got in without a hitch because I knew the license plate, color and make. Last time I had no idea which car to pick from the line up of large SUVs with turbaned and bearded drivers and security guards. How was I to tell the difference between those with good and bad intentions?
And then it was time to pack. I took the decorations down – the pictures from the Khulm bazar that I bought on my second day in Kabul which seems ages ago. I rolled up the new Maliki rug and put it in the canvas bag that brought the rolls of paper and posters on my way in, a perfect fit.
My sleep was restless and full of dreams about plane and orthopedic disasters, two things that are on my plate now and that fill me with considerable anxiety: getting out of Kabul by air and having appointments to figure out what to do with my ankle next week.
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