Getting ready to go again!

Perfectionism is the enemy of productivity! That is my excuse for not having written anything for the past eight months. One of the blogs I read is so profound all the time that I use that as my standard. Well, today, I'm just going to try to bring everyone up to date.

In the middle of May, I received the long-awaited letter of invitation from the U of Kabul to teach music and assist with curriculum development. About that time, it became evident that I needed to find a proper funding agency so we have been busy developing that. Today I received notice of my acceptance by IMF as an associate member so I will be able to have my funds processed by their missions department. We will be establishing my budget soon, raising any more necessary funding, apply for a visa, buy a ticket and it's GO!

In the intervening months I have spent some time with faculty members at Bemidji State University exploring possibilities for collaboration with them at the U of Kabul School of Music, moved all my belongings into long-term storage, gotten the flow of Social Security and Canada Pension started, and studied Dari.

Before I go, I'm hoping to take a trip to California - can hardly believe it has been almost ten years since I left there, am setting up the basics of the Rynders Reunion for the summer of 2012, and maybe even get the process started of getting my dad's slides converted to digital.

Tonight is Obama's announcement about troop withdrawal in Afghanistan. Perhaps it's a bias on my part (hopefully partly because of the extensive reading I've done on the subject!) but I hope the US doesn't withdraw too precipitately. We have been Lucy with the football too often in Afghanistan's history.

Adjusting

Wow, it sure took awhile to recover from the Dubai sightseeing - added to the usual difficulties of recovering from jet lag, I dealt with nausea, dizziness and fatigue for a good week and a half after getting home.

Read John Weaver's new book "A Flame on the Front Line" which he so kindly gave me. It didn't really have anything new about his experiences in Afghanistan, just an expansion of his early life and the twists and turns which brought him there. Apparently one of the things he may do with his year off is write the story of meeting his wife Jeanne in Afghanistan. Her mother was in the diplomatic service there and her father had some military role which led to Jeanne spending some of her childhood there.

I also just finished reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns" for the 2nd time. It was so much more interesting as the Morningstar guesthouse is located in the suburb Miriam and Laila lived in, Deh Mazang, and I recognized many other landmarks referred to in the book. If you haven't read this, it is a MUST READ. I'm just starting Rory Stewart's famous story of walking from Herat to Kabul in January 2002.

Last week was spent honing the report of my activities and delineating possibilities for short-term volunteers. If anyone wants to get a copy, let me know. There is a major need for books, especially children's books, for the community centers. In view of the University of Kabul's goal of all teaching being conducted in English by 2025, it is all the more necessary for good English instruction at the elementary levels now. Good training in ESL teaching techniques is very important. The centers also need more and better computers, but it may be more financially feasible to purchase them in country, as shipping is such a hassle.

There will be a growing need for individuals capable of teaching leadership skills as the Institute for Leadership Development rolls out to other cities over the next couple of years. And, one thing I neglected to mention in my report, there is a great need for veterinarians to conduct spaying clinics for cats and dogs.

The link to the Playground Builders website is on my page. We've made contact with them and hope to utilize their expertise in getting playgrounds built in the Morningstar community center locations.

I've also started the ball rolling for a connection between the music departments of my alma mater, Bemidji State University, and the University of Kabul. This could involve helping to prepare the Kabuli students to attend BSU as graduate students. Some curricular coordination is necessary. As soon as we determine which music we need, I'll post a list and we'll see how much we can pull together to help provide that resource. One other idea percolating in my head is to bring some skilled teachers to Kabul for a couple of weeks for a Bemidji-style band camp.

I'll also post a link to the Byki website. It really was a great help to me to be able to learn a little Dari before I went. The students at the U of K were impressed that I knew what zabars, zers, pishes, hamzas, tashdids and sokuns were. Are you impressed now too? The Byki Dari requires use of these symbols, which are used in learning Dari, but doesn't explain them on the Express version, although I did figure out how to type them. After downloading the free Express version, they send you emails for the full version and after about 3 months, a really good deal on the full version.

Dari (Afghani or eastern Farsi) is a very easy language to learn compared to Pashtu. The students there told me they thought English was easy to learn in comparison to Pashtu. The Jegdalek community center is in a Pashtu area, but the children are taught Dari in school.

On a closing note, if anyone has a group you would like me to make a presentation to, let me know. I'll be happy to oblige.

Heading Home

Slept very well in Dubai. At breakfast we met up with a young Southern California woman en route from Kenya to Boston who wanted to tour the city. So we decided to join forces and take the Blue Big Bus of the beach areas and shopping centers of Dubai. Before breakfast, as I was checking my email and updating the blog - ooh, the internet is so much faster in Dubai - a very young man came out into the lounge area, and seeing me there, began to quietly play with his toys. His mother, alarmed at his quietness, came to check on him. On our way out to our bus tour, I met her again in the outside kitchen and she turned out to be the wife of John Weaver, the author of one of the first books I had read about Afghanistan, "Inside Afghanistan". (It's listed on my book list.) He had already left for a board meeting, and it turned out I had already had quite a long discussion with her parents about the healing powers of music in wounded cultures like Bosnia. One of the most amazing things about that guest house is meeting all the people who are crossing paths from various places of service and using it as a place to rest, regain their breath and go on. Most of the time they turn out to be children of people who have likewise spent much of their lives overseas, working in various cultures in various ways. Very interesting people. Becky, who is currently the head honcho there, told me she is always looking for people who are interested in working as hosts there, so if you want an opportunity to live at the crossroads and meet all sorts of people doing all sorts of things and are willing to make a few beds, cook or clean, let me know and I'll put you in touch.

The three of us grabbed a cab and headed for the Wafi Mall where we bought tickets for the hop-on, hop-off tour, about $60US. It was now 11:00 in the morning and the temperature was in the high 90s, with a humidity to match. Thankfully, there was no need to don a head covering! We drove west to the beach and southwest along it. We wanted to stop at the Jumeirah Beach Park, but Monday was ladies day at that beach and Brian wouldn't have been allowed in. We proceeded to a beach further along which was next to the Burj Al Arab Hotel, designed in the shape of an Arabian Dhow. See wikipedia info. It has the distinction of being a 7-star hotel, with suites ranging from the smallest at 1,800 sf to the largest at over 8,000 sf. It also has the distinction of having Tiger Woods hit a golf ball off one of its upper floors out into the ocean.

We didn't bother to check in at the hotel. We just walked down to the beach and waded for a while in the surf. The water was bath-tub warm, very clear. Just north of the beach is a man-made structure of islands called The World. Apparently rich and famous people buy individual islands for themselves.

Next stop was Atlantis on the Palms, a huge man-made complex of islands in the shape of a palm tree (one of three such structures in some stage of completion), which featured the immense Aquaventure Waterpark, the Lost Chambers of Atlantis and a huge collection of dolphins. We walked around a bit, but didn't have swimming suits nor the time to make good use of the expensive admission fee. Next stop was the Mall of the Emirates where we ate lunch, then walked over to view the Indoor Ski Slope - yup, looks just like snow we get for free in Minnesota. We decided we wanted to take advantage of the free dhow cruise on the Dubai Creek, so grabbed a cab to get back downtown to its departure point and spent the rest of the afternoon cruising up and down the Dubai Creek, looking at all sorts of huge buildings and hearing about all sorts of wonderful other things we could do - visit the Gold Souks, etc. Still very hot. Then we grabbed another cab home where I was all too glad to jump in the shower again and get my things organized for the flight home.

After supper I got to meet John Weaver and he gave me copy of his new book. Also met a nice young woman from Australia who was taking a break from language studies in Yemen to recover from dengue fever.

Then Simon (from northern England) loaded up our suitcases into the SUV and drove us to the airport. Had a serious moment of alarm there when after making it through all the checkpoints, I discovered I had left my purse at the last station. Brian went back to recover it for me - whatever would I have done without his help on this trip. On to the long flight overnight for Atlanta, a change for Chicago, then to Minneapolis, where my brother Jim kindly picked me up. A quick shower and then I hit the sack for 16 hours straight.

I don't know whether my lack of enthusiasm for Dubai crept through this narrative, but I doubt they will be contacting me for PR help. It's like Las Vegas (they boast a better dancing water show than the Bellagio) only much more commercial. Give me Kabul, dust and all!

Day Fifteen - Final Tasks and Departure

Spent the early morning watching the Twins lose the series to the Yankees. So sad. I didn't actually watch - I found a feed that would give me the pitch-by-pitch play-by-play after the batter was finished. Better than nothing. There were several other Twins fans in the house, none quite as dedicated as I in following the tortuous ins and outs of the game.

After breakfast, I got my packing done, turned in my borrowed laptop, called our friends up north to say goodbye and see you in March! A group of four men came in from the states on the early Safi flight so we spent some time briefing them about the various Morningstar projects. Brian had suggested someone as a mentor for me when I come back, so he stopped by and we had a good discussion. And Ghafar from the University stopped by with a CD of rebab music for me to take to Emel.

Lunch included an interesting spinach soup with sliced boiled egg in it. Reza puts an interesting spice in his soups, along with vinegar, I think. Also rice, spinach, cauliflower, baked chicken, and of course naan and fruit, including persimmons.

Settling up my bill, turning in the phone, getting the luggage downstairs - Aziza insisted on carrying mine out to the van (I think she is sad to see me go even though we talked very little). The Brian and I left with Zamir for the final burst of shopping. We went to an area we had avoided before because of reports of slashed tires on westerners' vehicles, but Zamir was confident we would be fine. And we were. Lots of police around so even when he and Brian left me alone in the van for a few minutes to buy a pashkul and scarf for his Afghan outfit I felt pretty safe. We went into a mall and I found a couple more dresses for Masooda - Zamir is the best bargainer there is and he's getting quite used to dress shopping with me! Then we drove a bit farther on looking for CDs of new rebab music. Finally found a store with tapes only - they offered to transfer to a CD but we didn't have enough time. Then it was off to the airport.

Fortunately the traffic wasn't too heavy yet and we made it in good time. It's quite a process. First Brian had to get out to go through a security check. Then a bit further on, I had to get out to walk through a special door where a woman patted me down cursorily. She had a small daughter with her and seemed more concerned about her toothache than whether I was carrying anything concealed on my body. When I emerged from there, Brian and Zamir were putting our luggage through a scanner. We loaded back on the van, went to a parking lot where a fee was required for the van to enter just to park and unload. Then we said our goodbyes and walked through a building with various shops, out the other side and changed some Afghanis back to US dollars. Next was the "green gate" where passports are checked. We were rather forced onto a bus, which fortunately left right away (Brian says they sometimes wait for quite awhile so he prefers walking) and two gentleman who had loaded our suitcases, then unloaded them wanted to take them in for us. We refused, Brian gave them 100Afs and we went inside to have another pat-down (more complete this time) and send our bags through another screener at which time they put these horrible "screened" stickers on them which are so sticky they are almost impossible to remove. Additionally they are sort of scored so they only come off in bits. Pesky. The rest of check-in is more of the same. More screeners, more pat-downs - in some ways it was nice being a woman because our lines were always shorter and the pat-downs were in curtained compartments with very nice women doing the work.

Our flight to Dubai was uneventful but left 20 minutes early, we were served a generous meal, the PAC TEC pilot who had flown us north and back was on the same flight. We arrived in Dubai about 9:00 pm to 93 degree temperature and what felt like the same humidity level. Such a shock to the system. The guest house driver was busy somewhere else so we grabbed a cab. I am so glad Brian has an idea where the guest house is because every driver seemed to need some help which I would have been completely incapable of providing. Brian also knew where the key for the front gate was hidden, so we let ourselves in and were greeted like old friends. I was given a bedroom on the main floor, again with a private bath. It took about 20 minutes of just lying on the bed before I was ready to face taking a shower, but oh, it felt so good - and then I crashed.

Day Fourteen - Picnic in the Hills

Today we went on a picnic to Akram’s family orchard, high in the hills north of Kabul. After breakfast we loaded up a van and Akram’s car with toshaks, pillows, dishes and all sorts of stuff Reza needed to make a meal al fresco. Zamir drove the van with our host Ken, Reza and his son Aziz, Akram’s brother and me in the back as the sole female. With Akram were Brian, Dan and Akram’s cousin. After a couple of stops for Reza to buy salad veggies , pomegranates and naan, we headed up a surprisingly nicely paved road, through a couple of villages along a stream that was occasionally shunted into various channels for irrigation purposes. I later learned this was called Sugar Canyon.

We stopped after about an hour, unloaded the vehicles and tramped down through a forest trail to a wide creek bed; crossed that and meandered downstream a bit until we reached a glade which had been built up with some stone walls. After getting everything in place, most of the men hiked up past the orchards to a higher mountain. Reza and his son began to prepare the meal. Akram’s brother and I talked politics. He is a law student at the University of Kabul with the intent of going into politics. He told me his professors have warned him not to talk politics until after he has finished his studies, but I promised not to tell.

Reza made kabuli pilau with both lamb and beef. The meat he had brought in a pressure cooker and he put that on a portable gas burner to cook further. The rice had been brought in a basin of warm water which he drained off and rinsed again in fresh water. He arranged some stones in a circle and then built a fire in the middle with wood gathered nearby. He first used the fire to heat some water which was used to clean dishes later. Eventually, he poured the meat and onions from the pressure cooker into a big pot, added the matchstick carrots and raisins we had brought, the put the rice on top and let it all simmer. Later he covered the lid with aluminum foil and transferred some of the coals to the top, forming a sort of oven with heat from above and below.

Meanwhile, Aziz had been cleaning the veggies, and with the help of Zamir who turns out to be a chef’s son, the tomatoes, cucumbers, onions were artistically arranged on a large platter. They also opened the pomegranates and piled the seeds on a platter, surrounded by orange wedges. Zamir then astounded us by creating a long string by tying several tea bag strings together and used it to cut an apple so that it could be pulled partially apart as the centerpiece of our fruit platter. A large bowl of yogurt also appeared, the pilau was heaped on another platter and we were set. We Americans were allowed to use the toshaks and had plates and forks. The Afghanis ate in the traditional fashion by gathering the pilau into balls with the naan. Ken had the bright idea of putting the pomegranates into the yogurt, which proved to be a huge hit. Some even improved on it by squeezing orange juice over it.

All in all, it was a marvelously relaxing day. I felt a bit like I was in the middle of a scene from Emma, where the servants all work hard to bring a picnic for her and her friends to Knob Hill. Akram took a couple of pillowcases and filled them with apples from the orchard for us to take home. Then it was back down the hill, past the security checkpoint at the entrance to the city (I have never had to produce my passport or my identity card other than at the airport during my entire stay here), back to the dust and the hundreds of cars beeping their horns, beggars sitting in the middle of the street on the speed bumps, young boys wandering through traffic selling things, people everywhere.

This will be last post from Afghanistan. After making a few contacts this morning and perhaps some last minute shopping, we head to the airport to leave for Dubai. Sigh.

Day Thirteen

Friday is the Holy Day here - joma'a. We got together with other expatriates at a home just a ten-minute walk away. It belongs to a Brazilian couple who have a couple of businesses here - the wife runs a kindergarten and teaches Afghan women how to work with pre-schoolers. She told me one of the hardest things is getting them to understand the importance of play.

Met many other new people, some of whom I have heard about before. One couple has been here for 40 years. That wife and a friend are building a Peace Garden by the National Gallery and talked to me about getting some music events there.

On our walk home, we stopped by the naan shop at the corner. They were busy making the bread and invited us inside to watch. A man was in the back crouched up on a ledge with his bare feet, mixing flour with water for the dough. Another man then takes it and breaks it into right-sized portions and makes them round. These go to two young men crouched on a concrete platform nearer the front. They have slanted boards in front of them which they use to further flatten the loaves and put the characteristic ridges in them. They lay them on a board where they are picked up by another crouching young man who has a padded board in front of him. He arranges two rounds on his board, then picks it up and slaps it down into a blackened hole in the concrete about two feet in diameter. The walls of the hole are heated and the loaves just attach to them and the bread bakes. Another young man on the other side of the hole uses two long utensils to pick out the completed bread and place it in the pile in front where an older gentleman is selling it to the public. They gave us a round fresh off the oven - too hot to hold, but oh, so yummy. Muhammad Gul, one of our chawkidor/drivers was there buying bread for us, as he does every day. I learned later that you can buy just the dough if you prefer and make it into cinnamon buns, pizza crusts, whatever you want.

Our cook Reza being off for the day, we had pizza he had prepared the day before heated up by Muhammed Gul, with naan and fruit.

This might be a good time to describe some aspects of life in the guest house. We have a cook and a cleaner who come in six days a week. There are also three chawkidors. Two of ours function also as drivers, and one of those, Zamir, also does errands for us at the ministries. All westerners living here have at least a chawkidor to do guard duty, do some of the buying of food in the bazaars, and wash dishes. Our cleaner, a widow woman, also washes our clothes. This level of service could get quite addicting.

I took out a puzzle to work on while waiting for Zamir to get back with our hosts who had been invited out for the noon meal, then Brian and I went with him to do some sightseeing and shopping. Brian treated us all to beef kabobs from a street vendor and while we were waiting in the van for Zamir to get the kabobs, a bunch of kids tried to get us to take them seriously as beggars. They looked pretty well dressed for beggars. One kid dusted all our windows and I finally relented and gave him a US dollar. Of course, that only brought out more kids. All over are kids carrying smoking cans of something that they will swing around your car to ward off evil spirits. They will walk right out onto the street when it gets a bit congested and walk among the cars hoping for a few Afghanis for their service.

Well, it's time for breakfast, so I'll break off. Just two days left here...already I'm sad to leave.

Day Twelve - Kabul University again

This morning I went to the Music Department of the University of Kabul for my third visit. The first was on Monday for our initial introductory meeting. On my second visit we went to a large classroom on the third floor with an old grand piano. Chairs were set in a semi-circle and over the next three hours the class grew to about 21 students. There are 50 students in the music school, 500 in Fine Arts altogether. The group that day was a mix of all 4 years, studying piano, voice, guitar, violin, tabla (traditional Afghan drums) and rebab (traditional Afghan guitar). They gave me a seat at the front of the class and wanted me to teach! Anyone who knows me well, knows that I prefer to tutor than teach, so after having them introduce themselves, I asked for questions. One piano student asked how to resolve the Dominant 7th - I wasn't sure if he was asking from a compositional standpoint or what. Another asked how to use solfeggio to learn pronunciation. After a while, our session became more productive. We talked about learning Italian as the best language to get proper vowels, steps to harmonization of a melody, what kind of music is most popular in the US, what their career goals were, on and on. There was only one female in the group, a guitar student.

A graduate piano student Ghafar played Schubert's Serenade, a piano student Fawad with the most enviable long fingers played a piece I didn't know, a violin student played a couple of pieces along with Fawad. Then another piano student Arash left the room with keys and came back with a keyboard which he placed on the desk. Dr. Faroz began rearranging how the students were seated and then I was informed that they were going to sing a composition written by Dr. Faroz. It was in the Afghan style, two part harmony, with a pathos rivalling that of gospel music, very moving. Then they wanted criticism! They didn't get any.

About 11:30 it was time for a break and we went to another room on the third floor, about one-third the size, with a beautiful Yamaha grand piano. After having tea with Dr. Faroz and another faculty member, the violin teacher, Ghafar and the other piano students remained along with the violinist and we had a bit of a master class. Each played a piece and I gave a bit of coaching. They asked again when I was coming back. When I said "In March", Arash said, "No, you are in Kabul for five more days. When are you coming back?" We had plans to go to Jegdalek the next day, but I said I would try to come back on Thursday.

Early Wednesday morning, I sent Dr. Faroz an email saying I expected to be quite tired but could make it by 10:00 am and where should I meet him? Our office manager Akram drove me there today at 10:00 - he talked the police at the gate into letting him drive me right up to the Fine Arts Building - and Dr. Faroz was waiting at the entrance to meet me. He took me up to the Piano Room, with the nice Yamaha, and I met with nine students. Mostly piano, but also a singing student who had not been there on Tuesday, a different violinist, and a couple of tabla players - one of whom is a ringer for Ryan Gosling, the Canadian actor. Dr. Faroz went off to teach a flute lesson. The rest of us settled down to a good discussion and demonstration of piano technique, especially pedalling, how to learn to sight read, basics of good vocal technique, and a myriad of other questions. I learned that they have only 3 pianos at the U and the one keyboard. I encouraged the vocal students to find themselves some cheap keyboards to use to rehearse their technique so they could learn good pitches.

At 11:00, several students had to leave for private lessons so I quick got a picture of them which I will post here after I get back to the states. Then Dr. Faroz came back and he and I and Ghafar went down to his office for tea (that makes my third tea session, which according to Greg Mortenson, has great significance in this culture). Dr. Faroz got my email address and said a letter of invitation would be coming shortly. School begins after the Afghan New Year's celebration, so will start next year on March 20. I'm hoping to put this together with other work here.

Ghafar then walked me to the Puli Sorkh where Akram picked me up. Ghafar promised to work on improving his English. I invited him to consider taking the Institute for Leadership Development next year. All in all, a very delightful and profitable adventure.