A Death in Kandahar

Things have been relatively uneventful here in Bamyan the past few weeks. Even winter has not had the bite we have been led to expect. Sure, there have been days with temps below -20 (that's about 0 F), but surprisingly, the weather has been milder than predicted. The mountain passes are, well, passable, by and large (you've got to be a hoss with your 4WD though --my cousin Willy would be in heaven navigating the snow and ice on some of these narrow mountain passes), and to this point, even planes are largely on schedule. Snowfalls have been so light to this point that experts are worried there may not be enough water for crop production in 2006 (It's always something -- either we get too much, and there are massive floods, like last year, or it is a question of drought, as was the case the previous six years. Nothing is ever easy for people in Afghanistan.)

Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing about the situation in the southern part of the country, especially in Kandahar, the center of all things Pashtun and the symbolic center for anti-Western elements in the country (the Taliban began in Kandahar). Even with the Taliban having fled to the four winds (or, what is more likely, hiding out in sympathetic households along both sides of the Afghan - Paki border), there are still plenty of people who find reasons to resent the Western, foreign influence in their country.

I tend to view globalization as a net positive influence for everyone. It connects the world in ways unimagineable even 50 years ago. Globalization and market forces have given plenty of countries a leg up to better themselves and their countries (South Korea is an excellent example). Not everybody has benefited -- Sub-saharan Africa largely is way behind the curve, even after all this time, but in general, we are more connected, more interdependent, than every before, and most of us benefit from those connections.

This connectivity has downsides, however. The ease of moving goods, people, and ideas across borders is not limited just to good ideas and information. Bad ideas, bad people, dangerous goods (from AK-47s to missile technology to toxic waste) can also move rapidly from place to place. What we are seeing in southern Afghanistan, in Kandahar, is partially a result of the darker side of that connectivity, especially the new emphasis on suicide bombings.

If I understand correctly (notice that "if"), suicide bombings used to be anathema to the Afghans. They viewed it as an affront to their culture and to Islam, even those Afghans who sport the most conservative views about Islam (the Taliban did not invent burkhas, after all). Unfortunately, the local bad guys, whether Taliban, Al Qaeda sympathizers, followers of Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, or whoever, through global media and communications, have plenty of opportunity to see the impact (in terms of shock value, publicity, etc.) that insurgents and other bad guys in Iraq have had using suicide bombers, and are beginning to incorporate such tactics into their own efforts.

On Sunday, Senior Canadian Diplomat Glyn Berry, the Political Advisor at the Kandahar PRT, ended up on the receiving end of these new tactics, as a truck laden with explosives blew up close to his convoy. The resultant explosion killed Berry, and wounded three other Canadian soldiers.

Afghanistan is a tough country -- let's not beat around the bush. Death is an all too common occurrence here. At a certain stage, you develop defensive mechanisms to the steady stream of depressing news. I reacted, but not very much, when we visited a local village where 4 children had died in the last week from some undisclosed illness. Sounds heartless, I know, but it's the truth. Mr. Berry's death is a lot closer to home (we both have/had similar jobs and responsibilities here, although his is in a more dangerous part of the country), though, making me sit up and take notice.

I cannot say that I knew Glyn Berry. I wish I had, though. Based on what I've read in news articles, Berry sounds like the type of diplomat I hope I am, or at least will be at some point -- one dedicated to promoting the foreign policy of his country, to promoting peace. He worked in Pakistan, in New York at the UN, and of course, here in Afghanistan, because he believed that his work mattered.

Just for the record, let me make it clear -- his work does matter. All our efforts matter -- civilian, military, government, UN, non-governmental organization (NGOs), all of us. Our job is to make sure that the Afghan people see and experience the positives of globalization (which most people here truly want), rather than the negatives, such as this cowardly act, this suicide attack.

I have tried to come up with something eloquent and stirring, some words that might help assuage Mr. Berry's family, who now have to cope with a horrible loss, words that could give comfort to any of the families who have lost loved ones in Afghanistan, Iraq, wherever, as they try to find meaning in a senseless tragedy. The words did not come.

All I can say to Mr. Berry and his family, that I will strive in my time here, and after, to conduct myself and my work in a way that will forward his own work and his own goals in Afghanistan. That's the best way I can think of to honor his memory.

Via con dios, Glyn Berry.

Close Encounter with Opium -- 1.9 Tons of It

How's things, music fans? Most of you have sated your inner holiday glutton (or outer, if you've eaten as much junk food as I have in the past couple of weeks), and are now moving on to the grim reality of those New Year's Resolutions. I did a decent job on my last resolution, to get into better shape (still not there yet), but want to keep improving there. More importantly, this year I pledge to be a better husband and friend to my wonderful wife, partner, and bud MaLan. This is the year where we actually will live together, so it should be an easy thing to do, in theory. We'll see if I can give up the selfishness that comes with living by yourself for the better part of 12 years!

The week before New Year's was not a holiday, however. Work has had a sense of urgency for weeks now. Basically, we have had something of an unexpected reprieve from the snow (bad news for the farmers, who need the snow melt to irrigate their crops next year, but good news for us and our construction efforts), so everyone is scurrying around trying to get that last bit of work done before snow and winter REALLY hits (again, I say this when it is -25 outside).

Of the work we've been doing, one of the more interesting was our involvement in a huge opium burn. You've probably read or heard that drugs make up most of Afghanistan's economy. That's probably true (I think the UN says 52 percent of their economy is drug-related.) Bamyan Province is not a major poppy cultivation site, but drugs do transit the province, bound for points elsewhere. At least in this one instance, the bad guys got caught in the process of loading a truck with bags of opium.

The police asked for our help. The Kiwis immediately prepared a burn site in public view but inside the outer perimeter of the base (concertina wire), to help control access to the area. The Kiwis learned the hard way they need better control of the site. When a previous contingent burned confiscated opium, the burn lasted well through the night. Much of the unburned opium was missing the following morning, however. Oops.

Officials from Kabul arrived to witness the fun and games, and, truth be told, the whole event had a circus-like atmosphere. Children hung around police HQ all day, eating fruit and sweets for sale from small vendors. Local and Kabul press milled through the crowd, interviewing anyone willing to comment on the event. The Chief of Police, a truculent character if I've ever met one, was waxing philosophic to anyone listening.

I managed to get myself into the mix. Once we opened the "sealed" container, for the next 90 minutes the Kiwis weighed, and I recorded the weight of each individual opium bag (minus the 5 --why do they need 5? -- samples we saw taken by ANP officers for "testing"). Digital and mobile phone cameras were going off like crazy. One of the local officials, recognizing a good publicity stunt, jumped up into the container and began writing Dari notations on each bag (never mind that they would all be burned, quite shortly). In all we weighed and collected 1,746.5 kg of opium. Apparently we could not burn the hash left in the container, because we did not have the proper paperwork. Any bets whether it will still be there once the paperwork is finished? We then escorted the opium back to the burn site, prepped the fuel, and gave an official an incendiary grenade to start the burn, which he brandished in front of onlookers before tossing it into the pit. It's like he thought he was Mel Gibson in Braveheart or something, or at least one of the stars of WWE (Eddie Guerrero, RIP). He did not burn himself in the process, but it was a close thing!

For the next ten hours, the Kiwi workers managed a bubbling morass of brown muck, tossing on more diesel every so often, to keep the fire rolling. The wood we chose did not cut the mustard, so it was basically a diesel and dope fire. Did it smell good? Did I get a buzz? Hell no. A headache, yeah, got that later in the day, but there was no fun involved. That stuff smelled AWFUL. (It looks like crap, and smells much, much worse). Really dreadful. You would have to be a freakin' drug addict to want to inhale anything that nasty. The smell of locals burning donkey manure for fuel smells better. I'm trying to think of the right hyperbole to give you a real sense of just how malodorous that stuff is, but words do not do justice. Your eyes water, your skin itches, your nose, well, you can guess. Seriously -- this stuff is FOUL.

Worse, even after most of the opium had burned away, and the fire was covered with earth, we had an entire night where the camp was blanketed in disgusting smoke smell. It seeped in and around the camp the way the Angel of Death visited the Hebrews in The Ten Commandmants. If I thought lamb's blood would've kept the smell out that night, I would've pissed off the cooks for sure for dragging giant lambshanks all over the camp. Not sure a frozen leg of lamb would have much effect, though.

Interesting day, all in all. If we could make a big enough dent in the opium trade, I would be willing to take more days of bad smell and drug paparazzi, but otherwise, once is enough, thanks. If I find my way to Amsterdam and somebody offers me a hashish brownie, I'll politely decline and find a regular boring brownie. With a Diet Coke chaser. More my style.