It has been a while.
I’m somewhere over Pakistan, en route to Delhi, but the clouds are persistent and the layers up layers of dust make me shrug, thinking I haven’t quite left Kabul.
Perhaps it’s my incurable fear of flying, or the fact that I insist on listening to melancholy music, but flights often provide needed time for reflection. It’s not an obvious formula, however, as the man behind me hasn’t stopped belting Bollywood songs since we departed (and yes, he appears tone-deaf), the flight attendant is on her second round of spraying “federally approved”, though precariously pungent aerosol with a hint of jasmine down the isles, and the safety instructions branded on equipment is, disconcertingly, written in Spanish, or perhaps even Portuguese…but regardless, I sit with time for reflection.
It has been a while.
Winter in Kabul was long. In the absence of central heating and I guess more importantly, electricity, we sat through the winter months close to bukharis (or wood burning stoves). In the first weeks of winter, mornings presented an impossible challenge to get out of my sleeping bag, placed under a down comforter, topped with an enormous fur pelt, patched together with more animals than I like to admit (puts my “vegetarianism” into question, no?) and attempt the dash to Anna’s room where coffee would await. Security declined in winter as well, which is unusual. The Taliban increased their offense, but things quieted after a while.
Anna and Steve (my dear friends from years ago, who both live in Kabul) decided to marry…so we all toppled to South Africa to participate in their covenant. It was a needed break, on many accounts. The couple wed in Cape Town, and the combination of the physical beauty of the place with the recognition of authentic love between people was truly a gift. I extended my time in South Africa to travel…I made it to Drakensburg, a mountain range which borders Lesotho, and was silenced by its beauty. It was good to spend time outside, to walk freely, and to see women carry about their daily lives with a sense of autonomy and independence.
The wedding vacation took nearly four weeks in total, and I returned to Kabul only briefly before moving to Pakistan for a short spell. I spent the following six weeks working for a fabulous organization that aims to reestablish the healthcare system in two earthquake affected districts in northern Pakistan. My job was primarily to help them write a policy paper, which looked at rethinking the government’s plan for facility reconstruction in a way that would better improve the availability of quality healthcare. My time in Pakistan allowed for a bit of travel, up north to Mansehra, and down south to the vastness of rural Punjab. It was a fascinating time to be there, with the newly reelected government. All had an opinion to share, and the country rushed with anticipation.
While in Pakistan, I decided to take another position with Johns Hopkins in Kabul. I’m consequently now working on a project with the National AIDS Control Program which attempts to set up a national HIV surveillance system that the government can use for years to come. We are only at preliminary stages, but the process has been absolutely fascinating. I have been struck by the dedication of NGOs whom have devoted their time to marginalized groups such as injecting drug users and sex workers, before it has officially hit the government’s radar. This process will be challenging, but I’m honored to be a part of it.
Back to the plane…I am on my way home. A dear friend, Jen Higa for those of you who know her, is marrying Aaron Corey in a few short days. They are phenomenal people, and even better together, so I am more than thankful to be able to stand with them in a few days in celebration. I look forward to this break, and to spend time with so many people I love.
It’s funny flying home, nearly a year after I departed for Afghanistan. I fly home with similar questions that I held when I left. I continue to aspire to participate in issues I believe in; I continue to seek relationships that are meaningful and that refine our character; and I continue to seek to maintain a childlike wonder and hope for the world. And through this, in many ways, life, and our participation in it, seems increasingly confusing. But the questions continue to be worthwhile.
I was asked to read a Sabbath prayer at Steve and Anna’s wedding, whose meaning grows with time.
Days pass and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles.
Lord, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing.
Let there be moments when your presence, like lightening, illuminates the darkness in which we walk.
And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness and proclaim,
How filled with holiness is this place, yet we did not know it!
Blessed be the holy one, the eternal god.
In search of seeing and knowing….
Till soon (I promise this time)
Andrea
P.S. I may have the words for the prayer a bit off, so I ask for forgiveness from the unknown author if I've remembered it wrong.
