I Thought They Were on My Side
And more important, why can’t I count on my government to rise above it all and do what is best for everyone? Why don’t I trust them in all this? Ya, I know, how naïve can a girl get? One year ago, this girl thought it might be fun to see what was going on in Afghanistan, and now is finding she may have overestimated the fun factor. Afghanistan is full of people that flooded in to help Afghans put their lives back together. Yes, there are a few warlords and greedy bastards out there always trying to make it miserable for the rest, but mostly it’s a place like so many others that needs a helping hand. So, every non-profit organization you can think of is here trying to help. If you are a greedy warlord or just an idiot terrorist, you might not like these do-gooders and what they are doing. So, the aid workers become targets. Many of the aid organizations are used to working in tough places and are willing to risk their lives to bring food and medicine to people in need. More power to them. Our government and the Afghan government use them in the parts of the country where no one else will go. Those are the places where the Taliban and al Qaeda still hold out and local populations support them. This is mostly in the south and east, but even there no foreigners can live or spend more than a day or two without risking almost certain harm. So, as you can see, President Bush was correct when he declared military victory in Afghanistan. He has simply moved the war over to us. Thanks George. Last month I made a temporary decision to move to Canada. It was a passing whim, but one based on some compelling evidence. First there were those cute Canadian soldiers. On my way to work one day, I passed a small convoy of Canadians sitting alertly in their armored vehicles, one behind his machine gun facing forward and the other facing backward, literally covering his back. The driver is somewhere in the belly of the beast and who knows how many others are hidden down below in those things. They were suited up in their fatigues, wearing goggles, helmets and scarves around their faces to keep the dust from choking them. Some sport those cool Afghan scarves and look trendy in a place and occupation where that’s not easy. They were driving through our residential streets, hands on guns, ready for any sign of trouble. I love these guys. They are often in Wazir Akbar Khan, the neighborhood where I work, and even stopped by one day to tell my admin officer who they were and that they were in charge of our neighborhood. It’s so nice seeing those handsome young faces keeping me safe. I waved at the guy with the gun facing my direction and he smiled back. I want to tell you that’s how the U.S. soldiers are perceived. I really wish I could. We don’t see US soldiers on the streets of Kabul much. They aren’t part of the international peace forces, like the Canadians, so I guess you could say they are part of an armed force still at war. Unfortunately, that gets more than a bit confusing when they are in Kabul, where the vast majority of the citizens are just your average person trying to live his or her life in peace. Then there are the special security guys. They look just like U.S. soldiers, which is really not such a great thing, in my opinion. Many of them don’t quite get it. The same day I saw the cute Canadians that smiled, I saw someone I thought was a U.S. soldier carrying an automatic weapon – looking much like the Canadian – but wearing those distinctive desert colored fatigues of the US military. I only learned later that he was part of the notorious private security force of ex-military hired to protect US government compounds and president Karzai. As this young punk and his two companions crossed the street he seemed to think the cars were getting a bit too close, including our car and driver. To prove his point, he turned his automatic weapon toward us and pointed it directly at us, as if he meant to shoot. I couldn’t believe the gall of this guy. Was he planning to start a fight over how close the cars were getting to his precious little American behind? I wanted to have my driver stop the car so I could jump out and go toe to toe with him. I wanted to yell at this kid! I wanted to demand his mother’s name! “I’m going to write your mom and tell her how rude you’re being. She had to have raised you better than this!” Did he think it wasn’t enough just to be carrying a gun? Did he also have to point it at us menacingly? This special group of US security guys does this kind of shit all the time and is really hated for it. No wonder people want to shoot them. And, I can’t help but wonder if their behavior puts the rest of us at risk too. There’s already quite enough hatred of anything and anyone American out there right now. More rude and bad behavior is not what we need on the streets of Kabul right now. The same day I learned the Canadian government was going to give our agency another $7 million this year to add to the $25 million already committed to the work we’ve been doing. And they’ve done it without all the whining and harassment the US government has given us over their much smaller $5 million. But, here’s the real problem: My government decided that for their money I needed to start putting pressure on the development workers to open offices in the south. You remember what I said about the south. It’s the no-go zone. It is home to the Taliban. It’s where the U.S. is actively hunting for bin Laden. They are at war down there. There are no foreign workers living down there because it is not safe, but my government would not take no for an answer. They kept pushing and harassing and threatening. They even said they might take back the $5 million. I called their bluff. And was disgusted by it all, but won that little battle. This was my government, asking civilians to sacrifice their lives, for the agenda of the White House. I’m not being dramatic here. I’ve seen the reports that go to Bush every week on this project. I know the pressure they are under to report to him on every bit of USAID money spent in Afghanistan. This is high profile stuff. And much of it has nothing to do with helping Afghanistan and has everything to do with a political agenda. Opening offices in the south could only make a political statement because it certainly could not help the country’s long term economic health, as our project is designed to do. The arrogance of it makes me want to go find a gun and point it at them. Last night a bomb went off one street over from my guest house. We lost half a dozen windows, but there were no injuries at my house. The target was the security company that young punk works for (Karzai’s security service) and yes, I was almost caught in the cross fire. I’m sorry people were killed, but not surprised. There were other bombings in the city and more violence is expected as the elections for Afghanistan’s new president get closer. Last month more aid workers were killed as they drove through the countryside of Afghanistan, trying to bring stability back to a country where there are still those that wish for instability. They were doctors bringing medical care to rural northern villages in a part of the country that had always been considered safe. I worry about my staff and wonder how long before one of them or someone else I know will become a random target. This is the first time I’ve ever been part of a war. I don’t know how it happened. I certainly didn’t sign up for combat. I didn’t enlist in the service. I’m not a reservist. I was told that living in Kabul was safe. But now, the war seems to be coming to us. There’s been fighting in Mazar-e-Sharif, another ‘safe’
city to the north, and last week major conflicts in Herat, the safest
of the safe places in Afghanistan. Rumors flew, evacuations, gun battles
at the airport, and almost nothing on the news. With each passing rocket and bomb that doesn’t kill anyone, we get more and more immune to its potential for harm. “It only blew out a few windows. No harm done.” The scary thing is that, if no one gets hurt, it’s not really news. At the dinner table we might not even talk about finding an unexploded device on our main shopping street, because it didn’t explode. Why bother talking about it. Nothing really happened. When the fighting in Herat got closer to the city center, my friend Sharon left her house to go out for ice cream. We got a phone call from a friend that had us all laughing because she almost didn’t get back into her compound. Her guards didn’t want to open the steel gate, until they realized it was only Sharon with ice cream. So, how crazy is that?! These fools are in the middle of a war and they are acting as if they are still in their safe small towns. And I’m one of these fools! Pretending that living in a war zone is normal, because otherwise we’d be too frightened to continue. On a lighter note, I ran into some nice U.S. reservists at the Intercontinental Hotel at lunch the other day. They were new in town and still trying to figure out what to do with their automatic rifles when they went to get food from the buffet. I gave them a hard time about getting through the metal detectors at the door to the hotel with all those guns, and I have to say they were every bit as cute as the Canadians. I’m over my moving north whim, because I still have hope for my country and its governmental process (that’s code for the elections are coming). Also, the reservists said they are staying at Camp Phoenix. Any of you have relatives or friends there? I’m told I can get into the PX for some good junk food! 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. |
I thought my job was to assist the good guys, while the U.S. military
sorted out the bad guys. So, how did I become a soldier in the fight against
the bad guys and why is the U.S. military pointing its guns at me? How
did I become part of this fight and who is protecting me?