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A Diary from Kabul - Eid Mubarak! |
Today is the first
day of Eid, a 3-day celebration ending the 30 day fast which Muslims take part
in during the important religious event of Ramadan. I am sitting in one of our
white land cruisers, which has recently been stripped of our organisations’ logo
so that we are not an obvious target as an international aid organisation.
Taking the familiar route to the hospital, my vehicle passes the southern
entrance of the presidential palace, the Afghan National Army (ANA) headquarters
and ventures into the bustling city centre, which is home to the newly
constructed Kabul Serena hotel and many ministry buildings, as well as one of
Kabul’s busiest markets. Today however is different. When normally I can be sat
in traffic for up to 30 minutes with horns blowing and cars trying to cut in to
shave perhaps 10 seconds off their journey, creating a hectic and anxious
atmosphere, today is different. Today is the first day of Eid, where the long
month of fasting, creating irritability and tiredness has passed by and everyone
wears a smile. Today is the first day of Eid, where the men guarding the ANA
entrance are sitting down around a plastic table, practically worshipping a
bright gold teapot, while they enjoy their first sip at noon of the preciously
aromatic and deeply respected Afghan tea. Today is the first day of Eid, where
the generous culture of Afghan people is as radiant as ever; a culture that I am
proud to have experienced, yet envious in the knowledge that I will not have a
continuous injection of its serum. My eyes wander up to the bright sky draped
over Kabul, and I take in the dusty mountaintops, which are clearly visibly
today. Everything looks vivid; the war torn buildings, the prominent Id Gah
Mosque across the river, and the pedestrians, in their new, cleanly pressed
clothes, somewhat of a tradition for the beginning of Eid. Suddenly, a US convoy
hurriedly passes in two small armoured vehicles, with an armed soldier poking
out of the top, and interrupts my thoughts. Today is the first day of Eid, and
while many goods things are brought on this day, peace and security has still
not arrived to Afghanistan.
It has been six months since I arrived in Kabul and my primary job was to assist
in the refresher training of midwives; our programme at the hospital has so far
succeeded in implementing new midwifery and residency curricula set to
international standards and the maternal and neonatal mortality rates have
decreased. However, I think the one person who has learned the most is myself.
I have learned that the media only shows one side of a story and unfortunately
the story is frequently positioned at a negative angle. I have discovered that
although for many years I had no interest in Afghanistan as ‘it didn’t affect
me’, in this global war, whether we like it or not, we all play a part and
actions and policies of our own nations have ramifications.
I have learned that while it is easy to teach skills and procedures to midwives,
the most difficult thing to teach is compassion. While Afghans are generous and
kind to visitors and friends, there is a real lack of compassion on the wards of
the hospital towards women who are suffering in labour and childbirth. Thirty
years of war have not only battered buildings and stolen livelihoods, but it has
eroded compassion. It does not come naturally to many of the Afghan midwives and
doctors to touch their patients and comfort them, even though they are very
tactile with their own friends/colleagues. Perhaps through years of constantly
being fed the notion that women are worthless and do not deserve any rights that
this has seeped deep into the psyche of every woman, no matter how educated and
professional they are.
Finally I have learned that it is not all doom and gloom for the future of
Afghanistan. On the contrary, I have met some of the most remarkable Afghan
professionals, working hard to restore their nation and with assistance from the
international community have high hopes for a prosperous, thriving homeland. I
can distinctly remember a conversation I recently had with the head of the
Afghan Midwives Association, Pasthoon Asfar, a leader in women’s heath. I asked
her what she wishes the most for Afghanistan. ‘Peace and quality is what
Afghanistan needs’, she pensively replied, ‘Peace and quality’.
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