Preston Sharp '09 Gives Firsthand Account of Afghanistan Experience
Abridged Version
01/29/2010
Preston Sharp,
I’ve been in Afghanistan for 6 weeks now. It’s been long enough to experience the second round election drama, feel two earthquakes, wake up to gunfire, and be on lockdown more times than I can count. The majority of my stay has been in Kabul, getting a very limited taste of Afghan culture. It was so restricted that I found myself invigorated by the opportunity to drive through Kabul twice a day during week 6, ignoring the conundrum of street traffic to glimpse at women sheltered by blue burqas, watch barely mobile carts facilitate roadside business transactions, and snap photos through the tinted windows of my armored vehicle. (The SUVs that drive me around even have a snorkel attached to the front hood in case we need to drive through six feet of water.) My experience thus far has been completely strangled by this security, leaving me gasping for a taste of Afghan culture.
I arrived in Faizabad to oversee the implementation of our socio-economic surveys after spending two weeks training survey managers and enumerators. We flew by helicopter from Kabul, stopping over in Kunduz, a small city that is well known for the danger that insurgents pose on the road surrounding it. This may explain the reason that our scenic jaunt had three pilots and four armed security guards for just six passengers.
Upon arrival in Faizabad, I quickly realized that my security concerns had been left in Kabul when I was picked up by a local Afghan holding a sign “Preston and Co.” No security officers, no armored vehicles, no armed gunmen. Within an hour, I was walking through the streets of New Faizabad with Haseeb. Working for the same company, we had been in contact with each other since my arrival in country. He has turned out to be a fantastic tour guide, showing me the city of Faizabad and explaining the intricacies of Afghan culture. Some interesting things about Haseeb; he spent $20,000 on his wedding despite the fact that he had never met his wife before marrying her, he loves dried yogurt (i.e. kurut which tastes and looks like a white rock), and he knows just about everyone in the city (he introduced me to the mayor). He oftentimes feels like his culture hinders his family’s progress and opportunity to succeed. With an English speaking wife that is unable to work due to her father’s wishes, his family is “a struggling bird with one wing, unable to fly as far as a bird with two wings.” He continued, “It’s not just that we can’t fly as far, but the journey is much more difficult. With me being the only person in my family that can work, all of the pressure is on me to provide opportunity for my children’s future.” Haseeb has a three-year old daughter and a one-year old son. His biggest challenge is getting them a good education as he has little faith in the public school system. Public school teachers earn just $40-100 per month. In comparison, the lowest paid employees at my company probably earn at least $400/month; my translator is earning $1400.
I’m astounded at how the children roam the city by themselves. When we stopped by Haseeb’s house, his three year old daughter was running around with friends completely unattended. I suppose I did this as a child in my neighborhood but never at that age. On a regular basis here I see kids, as young as seven, riding donkeys down the main road while guiding their family’s goats away from passing cars (which are sometimes going in the wrong direction). At times like these, children are responsible for several thousand dollars worth of livestock. When the children aren’t doing family chores, you can find them huddled around every corner, running through the muddy streets as they play in surprisingly bright clothes, oblivious to fears of strangers that are so common in the states. (I’m more likely to be kidnapped here than any kids.) But their fear of cameras is unmistakable. Once the camera is revealed, the children run away, screaming warning cries to their friends until the adversary is no longer in sight. Then, they creep back in a hushed giggle, a playful curiosity getting the best of them until they once again flee with a screech after catching another glimpse of the camera.
All of this freedom and exposure to Afghan culture was short-lived though. Thankfully I had this brief opportunity to explore as the rest of my stay in Faizabad has been pretty restricted, a prelude to Kabul once the skies clear up and I fly “home.”
