After Ishkashem we felt led to travel to a small village called Zebak and do another teacher training. We were able to rent a small house and quickly got permission from the school superintendent. We also were blessed to have the translator we used in Ishkashem come with us, a very bright 18 year old guy named Rahmat.
We had about 20 hours to move in and get settled before we had to throw ourselves into another teacher training. Apparently there was a mis-communication because at promptly 1 PM the next day thirty teachers showed up at our door. At a loss, we quietly ushered them into our small living room and as per Afghan rules, gave them tea and candy. They ate an ENTIRE bag of my favorite candy. They were unabashedly stuffing their pockets with it. I still hold it against them. Arg. So after conducting the first day of training( in our living room) we immediately went to the Principle and demanded a school room. And we got it, thank the good lord.
The training itself was again very successful, but we were forced to condense ten days of teaching into six, since it was harvest season and the teachers needed time to harvest, thresh, and store their wheat. Which they do as their ancient forefathers did before them, with sickles and oxen and separating the chafe. It's fascinating to watch a method that has remained unchanged for thousands of years. No tractors in this part of the world.
I think I speak for the whole team when I say that Zebak was probably the darkest time of outreach. There was no running water, electricity, or decent toilet. The kitchen was a dark mud and straw hovel and I had to wash all the dishes outside with freezing cold spring water that the boys hauled to the house a dozen times a day. Sanitation was impossible, and we had to keep the door bolted at all times or strangers would just walk in and stare at us. And worst of all, we had no cell phone reception, so there was no contact with the outside world for 17 days. Our only option was the single landline in town, which only worked twice in the whole time we were there. And even then you had to wait in line 45 minutes to use it, and bear the stares of a dozen afghan men who were in line as well, listening in as you try to talk to your boyfriend on your one year anniversary. Awk. Ward.
Once the seminar was over we still had 12 days to go before we were due to leave. 12 days, trapped in our tiny little compound, a horde of children loitering outside for a glimpse at us. We didn't know anyone there and houses were pretty spread out, so there was no real way to get out in the community and visit people. We did befriend one girl who visited a few times, but she spoke little English so she conversed mostly with the Pakistani family. I spent most of those days re-reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy and watching The Office on my computer.
Zebak's only redeeming quality was its gorgeous scenery. It is set alongside a beautiful river in a narrow valley with towering mountains all around. There are Taliban hiding in those towering mountains, but I gave that little thought. Not much else happened, other than me having to spurn the advances of our translator. In a culture when men and women have little to no contact, it only takes about one conversation with a western woman before they're madly in love. There were a few young afghan men I had to keep a distance from, poor lovesick fellows.
From Zebak we made plans to go to a bigger village called Jurm, but things, as usual, didn't turn out as we expected. Stay tuned for next week's installment!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
There and Back Again
Announcing my triumphant return! I have passed through two months of villages, earthquakes, bucket showers, scorpions, enamored translators and a host of other adventures and have lived to now write about it. As not to burden you with one unending and wearying tale of two months' time, I will break it down into three or four manageable, bite-size updates.
When I last wrote my team and I were in Kabul.We chartered our own plane (exciting, but less glamorous than I had hoped) and landed at Faizabad “International” airport in northeastern Afghanistan, where the runway consists of a mile of metal grates, chewing gum, and goat droppings. We spent three days in Faizabad at an obscenely overpriced guesthouse while we were getting the necessary paperwork from the Ministry of Education to conduct the teacher training seminars. We also tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to hire a translator. Our plan was to drive 8 hours to a small city called Iskashem where a YWAM team runs a guesthouse there. That 8 hour drive turned into a labored, 13 hour trek fraught with blown tires, bad spark plugs, river crossings, and a driver who stopped every time he saw someone he knew, which was apparently 75% of the men along the road (In Afghanistan, you may hire the car, but you are at the completely mercy of the driver). But we finally pulled in slightly before midnight.
The morning revealed Ishkashem to be a picturesque village set in a beautiful valley amidst the towering, snow-capped mountains of the Pamir range. There are rolling wheat fields, bubbling streams, and grooves of lovely deciduous trees. On a side note, also residing in in Ishkashem are what I estimate to be 80% of the world's population of donkeys. And the bray of a donkey is the most obnoxious, grating, unnatural sound to ever come out of the pits of hell-but I digress. The point is, Ishkashem is one of the most beautiful places in Afghanistan and a most refreshing change from the downright ugliness of Mazar.
Our stay in Ishkashem was supposed to last a few days while we prepared to travel south to a village called Koran-a Munjan. It was during these few days that we ran into several problems. A) We still were not able to procure a translator. You see, big budget NGO's, journalists, photographers, etc, come through areas like Ishkashem and offer exorbitant prices for translators, so when small teams like ours come through the locals refuse to take less than these aforementioned exorbitant prices. And B) the Taliban chose this time to try and take over Koran-a Munjan. Soooo we decided to stay in Ishkashem for a month and do a training seminar there. It was very well attended and they only tried to defend the use of the cane as a form of discipline once. We were also able to give the Good Book to several people in this village, but more about that later when I can post from a country that believes in religious freedom. Gotta be careful what we say over here, ya know.
Other noteworthy items:
-It was here that I found the first scorpion in my room. It was small but terrifying. I squashed it with my shoe.
-We marked the end of Ramadan and its tedious fasting with a big holiday called Eid-e Ramazan. It involves visiting all your friends and neighbors and eating candy and drinking tea. We were invited to nearly every house in the village, as a visit from a foreigner elevates the esteem in which your household is held. We met a lot of interesting people and drank gallons of tea.
That's all I can remember at the moment. My next update will highlight our move to the even more remote and comfortless village of Zebak.
Until then, please keep me and my team in your prayers, as we are in Kabul for the next few days. One person has died of swine flu (excuse me, H1N1) and the country is literally shutting down. Schools are being closed for three weeks nation wide, weddings are being postponed, airport employees are wearing face masks. I'm more amused than concerned, but still, Kabul isn't the safest place in the world to be. So pray that we get safely to Mazar on Tuesday!
Peace out
When I last wrote my team and I were in Kabul.We chartered our own plane (exciting, but less glamorous than I had hoped) and landed at Faizabad “International” airport in northeastern Afghanistan, where the runway consists of a mile of metal grates, chewing gum, and goat droppings. We spent three days in Faizabad at an obscenely overpriced guesthouse while we were getting the necessary paperwork from the Ministry of Education to conduct the teacher training seminars. We also tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to hire a translator. Our plan was to drive 8 hours to a small city called Iskashem where a YWAM team runs a guesthouse there. That 8 hour drive turned into a labored, 13 hour trek fraught with blown tires, bad spark plugs, river crossings, and a driver who stopped every time he saw someone he knew, which was apparently 75% of the men along the road (In Afghanistan, you may hire the car, but you are at the completely mercy of the driver). But we finally pulled in slightly before midnight.
The morning revealed Ishkashem to be a picturesque village set in a beautiful valley amidst the towering, snow-capped mountains of the Pamir range. There are rolling wheat fields, bubbling streams, and grooves of lovely deciduous trees. On a side note, also residing in in Ishkashem are what I estimate to be 80% of the world's population of donkeys. And the bray of a donkey is the most obnoxious, grating, unnatural sound to ever come out of the pits of hell-but I digress. The point is, Ishkashem is one of the most beautiful places in Afghanistan and a most refreshing change from the downright ugliness of Mazar.
Our stay in Ishkashem was supposed to last a few days while we prepared to travel south to a village called Koran-a Munjan. It was during these few days that we ran into several problems. A) We still were not able to procure a translator. You see, big budget NGO's, journalists, photographers, etc, come through areas like Ishkashem and offer exorbitant prices for translators, so when small teams like ours come through the locals refuse to take less than these aforementioned exorbitant prices. And B) the Taliban chose this time to try and take over Koran-a Munjan. Soooo we decided to stay in Ishkashem for a month and do a training seminar there. It was very well attended and they only tried to defend the use of the cane as a form of discipline once. We were also able to give the Good Book to several people in this village, but more about that later when I can post from a country that believes in religious freedom. Gotta be careful what we say over here, ya know.
Other noteworthy items:
-It was here that I found the first scorpion in my room. It was small but terrifying. I squashed it with my shoe.
-We marked the end of Ramadan and its tedious fasting with a big holiday called Eid-e Ramazan. It involves visiting all your friends and neighbors and eating candy and drinking tea. We were invited to nearly every house in the village, as a visit from a foreigner elevates the esteem in which your household is held. We met a lot of interesting people and drank gallons of tea.
That's all I can remember at the moment. My next update will highlight our move to the even more remote and comfortless village of Zebak.
Until then, please keep me and my team in your prayers, as we are in Kabul for the next few days. One person has died of swine flu (excuse me, H1N1) and the country is literally shutting down. Schools are being closed for three weeks nation wide, weddings are being postponed, airport employees are wearing face masks. I'm more amused than concerned, but still, Kabul isn't the safest place in the world to be. So pray that we get safely to Mazar on Tuesday!
Peace out
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