Rockets Red Glare
It took 8 weeks of recurring diarrhea, but I’d had enough. It wasn’t the bomb that took out a dozen windows at my guesthouse. It wasn’t the armed rockets being fired into the city. Just a little bad food and a gut that said it had had enough. That’s what it took for me to cry uncle and come on home to Vermont for some R&R. A simple course of drugs and I’m ready for more — but there are those rockets. The rockets and bombs are not to be taken lightly. They have become more real to me in the quiet of our Green Mountain hills. In Kabul, in the midst of the action, it’s too easy to believe things are normal. Once out of there, it’s much harder to pretend that this kind of fireworks is just part of the job. Things will probably get worse over the next few weeks, as the Afghan presidential elections get closer. With only a little convincing, World Bank did the right thing and gave us permission to partially close our Kabul operations. Left behind are a few brave Afghans and my right-hand Pakistani finance officer. A few rockets and bombs aren’t enough to make him come to his senses. I begged and cajoled, but my man Daud is determined to stick it out in Kabul, rather than spend a few weeks with his family in Islamabad. Loyalty? Or perhaps he just wants to demonstrate what wussies these Scots and the American, Ugandan, French, Vietnamese and Indian consultants really are. Whatever his motivation, he and my Afghan counterpart make it possible to keep things going in Kabul, so the rest of us can work comfortably from our Internet hookups around the world. Yes, this coward is writing contracts, editing documents, and approving funding requests from the comfort of her Monkton living room. Why would the latest round of rockets and bombs send me to cover? Well, they are bigger and badder than before. The Taliban and al Qaeda are probably not the ones to blame for the previous mischief. Kabul has seen a fairly steady nagging of unarmed rockets and an occasional homemade bomb — small stuff that usually doesn’t cause any injuries. Only last month did one accidentally hit a house, killing an Afghan woman and injuring some of her family. That small tragedy still haunts our psyches, since it brought one of our staff too close to its reality. Caroline lived next door to the home that was hit by the wayward rocket. The terror of it having hit so close sent her into the cubbyhole beneath the stairs for the night. But, it wasn’t the discomfort of her hiding place that kept her awake all night, it was the wails of the crying family next door grieving for their loss. Caroline now lives in another house in Kabul, because the memories of that night are too strong. Did you notice I said another house? Yes, even Caroline has found it possible to justify continuing to live and work in our little rocket land. We’ve gotten bored with the nuisance of all those rockets; my Afghan counterpart claims to have seen this kind of violence many times over his 50 years living in the country. He attributes it to unhappy commanders who have lost power and position, but still hold a pile of armaments. Same ole, same ole. A couple weeks ago, that changed. The car bombing that targeted Dynecore’s office killed more ex-pats than all the other shootings and killings over the last year. It was professional, and evaded the normally top-rate intelligence gathering that goes on in Kabul. This typical al Qaeda scenario tells us that their attention has returned to Kabul, just in time to dissuade President Karzai’s supporters and potential voters. The following week, rockets again targeted the city — but this time they were armed. Another indication that these came from the well-funded and capable al Qaeda, or their allies the Taliban, not just the local disgruntled warlords. The attacks will probably intensify as elections draw closer. So, here I sit enjoying blue skies that are not clogged with dust, waiting to hear more news from my friends who remain in harm’s way. They will all be out of there by the time elections are held on October 9th, but won’t return until after the election results are announced on the 23rd and our brave Kabul office caretakers declare it safe once again. As if Kabul could ever be considered safe. And what else is going on, you ask. Well, let me tell you about my friend Sharon in Herat — the second safest city in Afghanistan, after lovely, quiet Kabul, of course — where a power struggle is going on. The little warlords got together and tried to kick the big, very rich warlord, Ismail Khan, out of his immense money-making operation on the Iranian border. They probably wanted some of the action he was getting, collecting millions of dollars in customs duties for all the goods that flow across that border every day. President Karzai has been trying to rein in this mogul, probably to get some of those dollars into the national treasury, but also to demonstrate he is more than just the mayor of Kabul. Poor Karzai doesn’t have much control over his country and if he could get just one of these regional warlords to climb down from his pile of money and at least pretend this is one country, how amazing would that be. So, there is all kind of speculation about who was really behind the assassination attempt on poor Ismail Khan, lord and ruler of Herat. And who organized the smaller commanders against him. With the Afghan elections coming soon, and our government’s stake in Karzai’s victory, could there have been some invisible help from our military reconstruction units placed nearby? Whatever the intrigue, the battle is real. This week’s emails from friends gave an account of my friend Sharon scaling her 10 foot wall, topped with barbed wire, in an escape from the back of her housing compound, while invading troops came in at the front. I wait to hear that she escaped unharmed and made it to the airport for an evacuation. She planned to use my room in Kabul while I am away. That’s her idea of being somewhere safe. I guess Kabul could look safe to somebody from Herat. I’m happy with Vermont, thank you very much. There was another email from my officemate who went with friends to the UN guesthouse for some drinks. After the second rocket hit a little too close for comfort, they headed into a bomb shelter. His only complaint was that three more rockets landed before the attack was over, making it impossible to get back up to the bar. My response was, “How come they get a bomb shelter and we don’t?!” It took two weeks after getting home for the nerves to settle, and to relax into the quiet. The dreams about men with guns have stopped, but my stomach still clenches at the sight of someone in army fatigues. While feeling rested and recuperated, I’d still be happy if I never heard another helicopter or airplane so close it sounded like it was coming through my bedroom window. I’m also glad there hasn’t been anyone pointing a gun at me for a few weeks. “This typical al Qaeda scenario tells us that their attention has returned to Kabul.” Thank heaven for this break from Kabul’s madness. Perhaps it will make it possible to finish those last 6 months of my contract. There are more loans to make, poor people who deserve a break, and Afghans who need the opportunities our work can bring. It will take some teeth-gritting, but finish this I will. I hope. Maybe. Well, damn. It’s gotta be done and I said I’d do it. Ok, I can do it, but this time I’m really going to be more careful about boiling the water! Deb Boyer is a banker, specializing in micro-finance programs. She currently works and lives in Afghanistan, administering economic relief and lending programs for women. |
Our Afghanistan correspondent writes this month about what liberation currently looks like at street level, where al Qaeda and the Taliban are back in action—a Vermont Woman exclusive from Kabul.