Sparrow Press

Bye for now

2006-02-12T03:58:00.000-08:00

Well, it had to happen. I can't keep posting old material from previous years and as I am now back here in the West, I cant keep commenting on the chaos of a country I no longer live in, and I have nothing much to say about Australia, so it's goodbye from Sparrow Press. I may revive this if I go overseas to another posting, but that is not happening for a while.
Thanks folks.

A day in the village

2006-02-10T04:50:00.000-08:00

Today we sat a lot. Not a whole lot of action; we are waiting for UNICEF to get their act together and give us the materials for the construction of the shallow wells. So Imam Baksh, the mullah and several others sat with Engineer, Ali Jan and me. After a while, the mullah turns to me. You speak Farsi, he says.
‘Yes’
‘What’s his country’, he asks Engineer, but I give the answer first. I’m not sure why there is this habit of speaking about people, rather than to them, but it is quite common. People quite routinely might look at Ali Jan, or at me, and then say to Engineer – who’s he? Who’s the foreigner?
‘Us-taraliya’, I answer, making the sound intelligible
‘Us-taraliya’, the mullah muses. ‘There’s water all around it, isn’t there?’
I nod.
‘And most people are Christians?’
‘About 50%’, I said. This number is way out – but what else to say?
‘And the others’, he prompts, ‘what are they?’
‘Some Muslims. Some people who don’t have confidence in God.’
‘The ones who don’t put their confidence in God – what are they? Are they fire-worshippers? Are they Buddhists?’
Fire-worshippers? Where did that come from – then I remember, Saidabad is in Balkh province, which is the historical centre of Zoroastrianism, but there has been no active community of believers here for centuries. I am saved from trying to explain Australia’s rash of indigenous, pantheistic, atheistic and New Age beliefs by Mother-of-Matan, bringing chai.

More history to mull over

2006-02-06T04:15:00.000-08:00

From summer in 2001, shortly before the attacks of September 11

A short break in Peshawar.
It is certainly time I had a break. Its Thursday; I came out from Mazar yesterday. As I was waiting at the airport, some young Talibs came up.
’Do you speak Pashto?’ – they asked, in Pashto.
‘No’.
‘Why not?’ – in Pashto.
Me, in Farsi: ‘Because I speak Farsi. I haven’t learnt much Pashto yet. Maybe next year.’
‘Your beard should be longer.’
‘It’s not the rule in my country.’
‘It should be longer. Longer is better.’

I turned away.
«

I arrived in Peshawar about 1.30ish and walked down to the Guesthouse. Peshawar felt hot and slimy. Within minutes of leaving the Red Cross’s soothing, air-conditioned van I was struggling with my bags and Sabina’s box of books that I had agreed to bring out, I was limp with sweat and I had already called the guard at the American club a shithead.

Made it to the Guesthouse without further social infringements and found Julie to be out. Nonplussed, I ate lunch, read the paper, sat under the fan. 2.30pm Julie showed up and we were able to share a sweaty hug and then heaps of mail. Some new people coming on the team – Bern and his wife Verity, who is one of 17 children. They themselves have three already, 2 ½, 1 ½ and 6 months. ‘How many children will you have?’, Julie asked. ‘We’ll let God decide that’, Verity smiled contently.

Julie and I went out to the Pearl Continental that night for dinner. It being five star, we thought we might get the chance of a beer. Sure enough, we asked at the Taipan restaurant, where we planned on eating, if there was alcohol. Yes, came the speedy reply. Reassured, we sat down and I asked for the wine menu.
‘You must go up to the bar for alcohol.’
‘Oh. Right. Can’t get it here?’
‘No, in the bar.’
‘Can we get it there and bring it down?’
‘No, but you can take your dinner up. Or we can bring it up. Or you can have a drink then come down. Actually it would be better if you ate up there, as we are full tonight.’
‘Well, we’ll go up and see.’

We went up to the fifth floor and found the bar, which looked nice enough and had a few bottles of whiskey on the shelves. ‘What have you got’, I asked, leaning happily on the rail.
‘Whiskey!’
‘Great, what else?’
‘Nothing else sir, just there is whiskey.’
‘What, nothing else? What’s in all the cupboards?’
‘Nothing sir, just you have whiskey.’
‘Ahhh.’

A pause.
‘How much is a glass?’ Could I go a glass of whiskey? How keen was I?
‘Not by glass. Just you buy the bottle.’
‘What, the whole bottle?’
‘Yes.’

Another pause.
‘How much is a bottle?’, I asked, speculative and increasingly incredulous.
‘500 rupees.’
‘Ahhh. Thankyou, you have been most kind.’

We went downstairs. A little ludicrous, in retrospect, but it certainly was suprising, not just once either, but a whole string of suprises closely knitted together and it took some unravelling. We sat down again in the Taipan restaurant, much to the discouragement of the waiters and had some very nice chicken and beef dishes, washed down with a cleansing lemon juice. Meanwhile, at the packed tables next to us, a tour group of Japanese drank themselves silly on non-alcoholic beer.

Where to go now?

2006-01-31T08:38:00.000-08:00

I guess I have a kind of writer's block. Now I am back in the West, there isn't much I can say about Afghanistan. I’m not going back there any time soon, nor anywhere for that matter. I’m now on my fourth course of antibiotics in 6 weeks, probably breeding some super-bug, and not getting better real quick.

There seem to be a few readers who haven’t yet found my depressing brand of cynicism too awful, so to try to keep this superannuated blog alive a while longer, I will post a few journal excerpts.

This is from our second year in Afghanistan:

Sunday, 1 April.
April Fools day. Somewhere along the line, the Afghans in our office have got the hang of the fact that on April Fools Day, you play jokes on each other. However, what they haven’t worked out is the comical nature of the jokes. Safi came up at one point and looked sideways at me, muttering something. Then he came back, and cleared his throat portentously, and said, ‘Philip-jan, I have a message for you. Bruce-jan called from Peshawar. He won’t be back in tomorrow, but he will be delayed a few more days’.
Okay, I said, thanks Safi.
Then Safi’s face broke into a wide grin, then he burst out laughing, he bent forward and hugged me, saying, ‘I have tricked you! It is April Fool Day, no? And I played a trick on you!’
‘Ahh’, I said, ‘right, yes you did trick me. That’s very good Safi.’
Engineer’s joke wasn’t much better. He told me that he had heard on the radio that in the IAM office in Kabul, the gas had exploded and injured four people. Hadn’t I heard?
No, I said.
He repeated the story as we drove, then smiled tolerantly, and looking sideways at me, reminded me that it was April 1. I nodded, trying to look amused and ‘ohh, silly me’.

2006-01-13T07:55:00.000-08:00

Unload your attitude here

Reflection, revision

2006-01-13T07:48:00.000-08:00

We originally left for Afghanistan in September, 1999. On the same flight were friends of ours, also sent overseas with TEAR, but they were heading to a different Asian country. They had a few kids; we didn’t.

Comparing their time in Asia is interesting for me, because of the many similarities in our positions. ‘Bob’ is about my age, similarly a generalist manager/ leader, slightly unorthodox faith, professional, from Perth etc etc.

But when I look at the time we spent overseas, many differences emerge. If is hard for me not to feel depressed, cynical, sometimes quite upset about how different our journeys were. It seems to me that their journey was pretty much a text book overseas posting. Four and a half uninterrupted years, where Bob’s work grew in complexity and responsibility till towards the end he was leading major organisational change for the NGO he was with . Sure, there were difficulties they had, and the country there were in was no picnic – it is currently in civil war, but in terms of what they achieved, and the outcomes, it looks good, on paper and in practice. The good work Bob did lead to him continuing to be employed by that NGO on their return to Perth, where he kept working on the change process for most of this year.

In contrast, I look at our four or so years in Afghanistan – punctured by the evacuation of Sept 11, our work fel into chaos and we pursued other work back here. The return to Afghanistan in November 2003 was really hard for me and tough on our marriage, and I hated the work, feeling like I was back were I had been two years previously: the job was the same, the people were the same, the organisation was the same, nothing had changed except me. The growth and change I had envisioned kind of got sidelined and abstracted by the Taliban, by the evacuation, by the general difficulties of Afghanistan, and eventually I left to work with the UN, where sure, I did some good – but nothing unique, nothing that no one else couldn’t have done. The NGO I had been with ended up viewing me as a troublemaker and an apostate, and the idea that they employ me to continue working with them is laughable.

In short, a mess of a time. I can’t really look at my time in Afghanistan and say ‘ I did this….’ or feel that I made a unique contribution. At least, not yet – but as I said, I am quite cynical and sad about it all presently. Maybe that will change and I will be able to revise my view of our time there.

Tired and sick.

2006-01-08T07:36:00.000-08:00

So, we are back in WA for a month now. Since we arrived on Dec 2, we have both been repeatedly sick. The kids are fine, though dislocated. But we are tired, and sick. Fatigued and exhausted. Continual throat, chest and sinus infections. Weird minor skin irritations. The usual VBE (Violent Bowel Emissions). Coughs and colds and asthma. And really, really tired. PAS, I guess, Post Afghanistan Syndrome. So sorry for not having been in touch with many people. We have not really been up to much.

2005-12-28T16:25:00.000-08:00

Kabul scenes

Silent nights

2005-12-28T16:18:00.000-08:00

We are back in Perth, for three weeks now. Apologies to all my three readers for the lack of correspondence, we have been really really tired, fatigued, sick, busy. I have had recurrent chest infections, sinus problems and general fatigue and Julie similar. Plus we have had to move house back into our old place in East Vic Park. And there was this little event you seem to celebrate here in a quiet, demure fashion. Called Consumermass, I think.
Anyway, we are back. And somehow coping with it. Driving through Kabul on the day of our departure at 6.ooam in the dawn light, we passed a accident scene: an crashed motorcycle, several men standing around, one lying on the ground, blood pooled around his head. Silent, motionless, dead. Not a good last sight to have on leaving the country where we have spent so long, but probably symbollically appropriate.

Guidelines for staying happy in Afghanistan

2005-11-29T09:30:00.000-08:00

1. Start in a really nice place (Peshawar in Pakistan, or Kabul). These may not seem nice places, in fact if you compare them with Perth, London, or more or less anywhere else, but they are, compared with what's coming.
2. Spend about 3-4 months in this place, then move to worse place (Mazar). The adjustment will be tough, but then every time you go to Kabul or Peshawar, you'll really appreciate all the small things (electricity, warm heaters, access to pools, beer, soft toilet paper (if you use it), flushing toilets, hot showers etc)
3. Then move to a worse place (Maimana). A place where there is no heating, no electricity. The toilet paper is actually 80 grit sandpaper and smooths your bum to a fine finish. You flush the toilet with a bucket. You have to put the used toilet paper in a little bin, because otherwise it blocks the pipes, every few days you take this little bin of pooey paper out and burn it... You shower in a bucket. You can only get meat in chunks at the bazaar, because the butchers don't grind meat in Maimana. Sometime the meat is camel (not good). etc, etc.
4. Keep this pattern up of moving to a worse place and visiting the slightly less worse places. They seem so good!
5. When you are about to commit homicide, reverse motion and start moving to nicer places. You could visit the grungy places again, just to remind yourself what you are leaving behind, but no real need to. Just enjoy the warmth, the varied diet, the no-camel, the light, chicken dishes, real pasta, etc etc.

Next post: rules for surviving the UN

2005-11-24T03:17:00.000-08:00

And this is what you get if you turn round 90 degrees... deserts surround Maimana on every side, and it all looks like this...

2005-11-24T03:06:00.000-08:00

Maimana from the hills...you can see the river bed in the foreground, a site of work and activity when its dry. Of course, every now and again a flash flood comes...

2005-11-24T03:03:00.000-08:00

Walking to work, I spotted an old man selling wool..beautiful and magical colours and an old man's smile.

A Lament for Afghanistan

2005-11-20T22:09:00.000-08:00

I don't think anybody really gives a rat’s fart for the work we are doing in Maimana, and probably internationally, these days, most players wouldn’t give much more for Afghanistan. I think the writing is on the wall and it reads something like ‘Afghanistan? Who cares?’.

It is sad for me to feel so cynical about this country I have loved, but I think I have earned the right to feel thus. And more than that, I think it is justified. There is very little real political will being shown to resolve the problems this country faces and I suspect that the decision has been made somewhere, in a place we will never know, by men we will never see, that Afghanistan no longer poses a threat, and that no effort needs be made to develop it as a nation. It serves global interests to keep some countries at the bottom of the heap, that is how capitalism works after all. And Afghanistan is pretty close to the bottom, and as the gods of finance and power have decided, so be it.

I see this at a macro and a micro level. In a conversation with my line manager today I again expressed my frustrations about lack of resources being put into this province. No resources, no results.

His response, ‘Let’s talk later.’ Other UN agencies feel the same. The Head of UNHCR here tells a story, about advisors and senior staff coming for a 10 day trip here, which is a good amount of time, and after one day they start enquiring about when the next flight out is. There are UN staff in Kabul who don't know where Maimana is. I suspect they think it is in another country, that we are from another mission. I suggest to the heads of agencies that we stop working completely, see how long it takes Kabul to notice. ‘What makes you think they would notice?’ is the reply.

There is a saying in Bosnia, ‘The trucks are passing and the dogs are barking.’ Exactly. The trucks are still passing. The barking of the dogs makes no difference.

Leaving

2005-11-17T02:27:00.000-08:00

So we are leaving Afghanistan. In a few weeks, we will be back in Perth, for a good long while. Mixed feelings accompany this move. Relief, delight, regret, sorrow. It is more than four years we have spent in this country and it is hard to imagine our life without Afghanistan in it. But it is time to do so.
Feeling ambivalent and exhausted at the thought of moving the other night, freezing as winter approaches, no hot water, no electricity, Julie said,' I have two words for you: Cold beer.'

2005-11-17T02:25:00.000-08:00

Julie was walking to a friends when she got scooped up by several women.

Back in Maimana

2005-11-08T04:27:00.000-08:00

Just had a short break in Delhi, India to visit roots and reflect on the last ten years. Bought a new camera while there, see below for what I think to be a terrific shot of a woman in a burqa, her daughter and a man on a bike on the street outside our house.
India was good. We still have friends there from years back, when Julie and I first worked there in 96, after my studies there in 94. 1994 was when I met Greg, a Queenslander. He was working with the organisations we later joined and it was his lifestyle and commitment that was so influential to me at that time. Greg and his wife and now, three kids, are still there, same orientation though their lifestyle has changed somewhat.
One thing I did realise (other reflections later) was how hard the last 10 years have been for Julie and I. We have lived in about 13 different houses during this time (doesnt count durations of less than 1 month), in 4 countries, plus visiting countless other places and countries during this time. Our daughter nearly died in childbirth, we were evacuated from Afghanistan, losing everything we had here, saw our work and life terminated. We have been sick, shot at, beaten and sick, again, more times than you can count. Plus all the rest of it.
So reflecting on that helped me realise its no wonder I have been treating God with suspicion, and that he and I are estranged. But maybe that is changing.

2005-11-08T04:19:00.000-08:00

Autumn in Maimana

2005-10-24T21:02:00.000-07:00

One bullet can ruin your whole day

Dark days

2005-10-24T20:58:00.000-07:00

Last week a UNDP two vehicle convoy was returning to Maimana from Mazar along the alternate route, which we had been using because of fighting on the main route. The fighting is actually between two political parties, and while quite a few people have been killed, it is not targetting the international community. Nonetheless, it seemed a good idea to use the secondary road.
About an hour out of Maimana, two gunmen attacked the trailing vehicle. 10 rounds from a Kalishnikov emptied into the car, ripping through four thicknesses of Landcruiser steel. Windows shattered, and a passenger injured. Amazingly, he was not killed - the bullet passing just in front of his head.
Then two days later, an NGO was returning to Maimana on the main route. A single gunman opened fire from behind a low wall, killing one passenger - a respected teacher, and injuring three others, one receiving two bullets to the head. The entire magazine was shot out - more than 30 bullets.
We have suspended travel in the province, but a resolution to this is not in sight.

Meetings with Men, thin and tall, short and stout, violent all

2005-10-18T03:16:00.000-07:00

Meetings today with General Fazil, Hajji Sofat Rewan, Khair Gamil Baba and Salai-uddin. All known warlords. Enough blood on their hands to satisfy Red Cross blood banks for years. The meeting was to do with disarmament... sure enough, all of them vehemently denied any weapons at all... none! ' If I have any weapons, arrest me now!'...'Liar you do! You gave him a whole truck full. I saw it, by God' ...' By God, don't call me a liar in the holy month of Ramazan!'.
And so it went on. Sitting with us was an ISAF commander and I whispered to him, 'You're the only one with a weapon, here, now. Take them all out. Four shots, no more problem.'

2005-10-18T03:10:00.000-07:00

here it is then!

Role model: wanted

2005-10-02T20:57:00.000-07:00

I think I need new role models for the next 10 years. If I think about it, Dave Andrews' community development/ engagement model was probably had the greatest influence on me to date, but that model of working and living and having faith doesnt seem to be cutting it anymore. I cant quite explain why. I think it doesn't provide a wayof operating in the world for me, as I am, now. It did when we were in India, Karawarra and the first years in Afghanistan - but not these last few years. I wonder if it just wasn't sufficient for the hardness of working here, plus the destruction we have experienced. Community engagement in a conservative Muslim society is almost tautological.

So I need some new model/ direction. Tim Costello was suggested. Richard Rohr (!) was too - I think not. There is no way I can make my living out of being spiritual. Political maybe. Grouchy, surely. A grouchy critical politician.... sounds unpleasantly like some of Australia's current leaders...

Long meeting

2005-09-23T23:09:00.000-07:00

Friday, meant to be a day off. But at 4.00 I was summoned to the Governors office. Some fighting, some conflict. About 20 old men had come from Pashtunkot, a nearby district to complain about a notorious commander who had apparently sent men there, to harass and harangue. Some RPGs were fired, one man shot after doing his prayers. As usual there were 10 different versions of the truth, but most apparent and forcefully so was the utter stench of 20 old mens bare feet in the meeting room. Fortunately I was at the right hand of the Governor, a senior position, so the stench, heavy as it was, crawled towards me slowly, dissappating as it came. Those further down the room sat with eyes bulging and teeth and buttocks clenched.
We got out of there at 7.45pm, in time for me to walk home in the darkening night.

Why I believe

2005-09-21T22:40:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to think why I am staying part of the movement of Jesus. There are not many compelling reasons to.

For months now, I find myself alienated from the bulk of Christians and the common ground we share is so tiny that any journey therein is virtually meaningless. Most expressions of the Christian faith I find triumphalistic, shallow, self-absorbed, excessive and irrelevant. Church is far more a cozy, comfortable retreat from the world than a place to encounter and reflect on its problems and sufferings. I’m not into evangelism, bible study, worship or prayer and when I last spoke at a church I was banned thereafter.

Yet I still believe. And it is not because I am convinced there is a heaven, or a hell, or even particularly concerned. It’s not because I am convinced that the bible is infallible as I don’t think it needs to be: neither the bible nor Christians have a monopoly on truth or spirituality, that should be very evident. It’s not because I worry about whether God loves me or not, it’s not because I think it is only through conscious affirmation of Jesus’ uniqueness that man can be saved. Or woman.

Here is why I am still committed to the way of Jesus.

1. Jesus was a historical figure. We know that. We also have a reasonable idea of his teachings and what he said – even if you want to allow for a large percentage of distortion and collusion, you can still get an idea of what he was on about with reasonable accuracy.
2. People are spiritual. That’s a fact – the majority of the world’s people believe something, and even most white, western, post-modern atheists when pressed reveal some spiritual values.
3. The way Jesus talked about spirituality is cogent, compelling and convincing. The spirituality he described and advocated does not ever justify or recommend violence, physical or spiritual. It advocates openness and inclusion, freedom, not coercion.
It describes a spiritual life of mutual accountability and endorses the search for truth as paramount, and the practice of justice and charity – but determining what these things actually mean, here and now, should occur in mutual, humble conversation. They are not codified, which would of course lead to tyranny. (– a note here: Paul does codify. He starts describing what is right and wrong, what is allowable and what isn’t. Jesus doesn’t do that. That’s why I am skeptical of Paul and the writings of the other apostles. Maybe we would be better off if all we had was the four gospels…)

With the probable exception of Buddhism, (and maybe Indigenous Dreamtime beliefs and Native American beliefs are similarly constructed, but I don’t know enough about them), any other major religion if taken to its logical endpoint, ends up in tyranny and totalitarianism. They have to, if people are serious.

The evidence of that is everywhere.. .Of course, Christianity has been construed thus, also and currently is, by many Christians, worldwide. But a careful and honest reading of the spiritual life as advocated by Jesus cannot ever justify that.

Unfortunately, mostly, the Christian faith ends up looking like any other faith, religion, club or sport, with the rules set up and the aim being to defeat the opponents. Jesus would spin in his grave, if he were there.