Ten Weeks in Afghanistan: Reflecting on My Experience

I returned from Afghanistan almost a month ago, after ten weeks abroad. Since returning, I’ve been settling back in to the comforts of American life with a sense of relief and renewed perspective. In general, traveling abroad always forces one to re-assess expectations and assumptions about the outside world. But my trip to Afghanistan was considerably more jarring in this way. In a sense it was like stepping into an alternate universe, where an American can take none of his usually-held beliefs and customs for granted because so much of Afghan life is entirely different.

Much of this difference reveals itself on the cultural level, of course, and in this regard Afghanistan is a rich example of cultural prosperity. Bazaars all around Kabul teem with life and activity as people trade and sell goods, haggling with gusto over the correct price. In the ancient city of Herat, I looked up at 600-year-old frescos commissioned by the great conqueror Timur Shah. In Bamyan I gazed in awe at 400-foot niches where great stone-carved buddhas once stood inside cliff walls. Much of this cultural richness is due to Afghanistan’s geographic position at the heart of the Asian continent, ensuring its fate as a thriving crossroads of interchange (both peaceful and otherwise) between a great array of societies over time.

I also saw this cultural richness on a personal level. Friends and family there interact with an amazing level of warmth and openness that reminded me how hard times--and Afghans have seen more than their share--often bring people together, when the people themselves are all that remain after years of strife. These strong communal bonds are also encouraged by the reverence that nearly all Afghans share in their faith in Islam: more than simply the primary religion of Afghanistan, Islam is a way of life, and its principles and lessons inform all aspects of day-to-day society. Even as an outsider, I was consistently treated with a feeling of hospitality like I’ve rarely experienced before. An Afghan that I encountered on the street might be making only around $50 a month at his job, but he would still invariably insist that I come in to his house for tea and a lavish meal with his family.

The hardest differences between here and Afghanistan exist in the realm of development, and this is where the NGO I was working for, Trust in Education, has been directing its energy towards that nation for five years. Simply put, the past thirty years have been devastating for Afghanistan. Through the times of the Soviet occupation, civil war and the Taliban regime, the Afghan people have suffered immeasurably, and the infrastructure of their country was reduced to rubble by the end of 2001. In Kabul, where I helped set up Trust in Education’s new office, fully seventy per cent of the city was destroyed through the wars of the past generation. 2002 was effectively “year zero” for Afghanistan, and the international community still has its work cut out for it across a wide range of areas: law enforcement, health, education, and many others.

Above all, I had so many more rewarding experiences than frustrating ones as I got my hands into doing research and project-management work for the NGO. Trust in Education is unique among the many NGOs in Afghanistan for its depth in the communities it serves, and I feel deeply gratified to have been a part of the strong relationship this organization has fostered with the villagers of Tangi Saidan and Lalander. On the research side, I'll never forget roadtripping around the provinces north of Kabul with my friend and translator Naweed, talking about cultural differences and laughing at some local council members' attempts to lie to me--thinking that I can't understand Dari. I can't, of course. But Naweed can.

I sometimes joke with Budd, the founder of Trust in Education, about how I first got involved with his organization--how un-encouraging he was when I first told him I’d like to go over to Afghanistan and help out. Understandably, he discouraged me for safety reasons. Let’s face it, Afghanistan isn’t a popular spring-break destination for a reason. But the more I learned about his program, the more I wanted to become a part of it, and he finally relented around the same time I solidified my independent-research plans. I’m incredibly grateful that he gave me the opportunity to work on behalf of his organization over there, and very satisfied with the amount of material I now have to inform my ongoing thesis project. This summer was an experience I will always keep with me, and one that I know I will continually draw from for years to come.