Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays!  As 2011 closes I look forward to 2012 as it means my tour is now less than 90 days until I am back at home with my ladies.  Here is a look at my thoughts on Christmas Day here on FOB Airborne.

Here in Afghanistan it's much like any other day.  I awoke on this chilly Christmas to a clear sky and took my usual walk to our operations center.  That walk is often the best part of my day because of the serenity I feel before heading out on a mission or starting a seemingly endless stream of paperwork and meetings.  I've mentioned before that our FOB is on the side of a mountain which opens to the valley below and we have unobstructed views to the 14,000 foot mountains that are only a few miles away.

Enjoying our Christmas Tree sent to us by our friends,
the Sudbury Military Support Network

This morning those peaks have a fresh coating of snow and are sparkling in the clear air.  It's a beautiful site as the sun rises and casts hues of rose and peach in the sky just above the snow.  The moon is hanging as a crescent, rasting on highest peaks and seems to be a reminder that we're spending Christmas in a Muslim country.

I am very thankful that this morning I was able to Skype with my girls and read them our traditional "'Twas the Night Before Christmas."  I couldn't display video of myself because our connection is so slow, but it helped me feel connected to the girls.  The Skype call was especially nice because I was able to say hello my two great brothers, their wonderful spouses, my unceasingly supportive parents, and my future-hall-of-famer nephew as well.  My adorable, heart-melting twin nieces were already in bed, but I'm hopeful I'll be able to say hello to them soon.

As the day went on, it was business as usual here in Afghanistan.  Missions, planning, coordination, though one phone call helped me realize just how good I have it here in Afghanistan at my FOB.  Another team leader in an area that was recently hit by a massive vehicle-borne IED is living without heat in his tent and without hot water for the showers.  Hot meals are a rarity, and morale is depressingly low during this Holiday season.  The IED destroyed a number of facilities at the FOB including the dining area and the living areas.  Thankfully there was not a significant loss of life, but that was a few weeks ago and they are still trying to recover.

I thought about my hot shower this morning and the nice meal they are planning tonight and feel incredibly guilty.  Yes, I'm away from my family and miss them terribly, but I am at least somewhat comfortable here whereas many of my friends are spending their sleeping hours shivering and going weeks without showers.  It is true that there are different levels of sacrifice we all face here in Afghanistan and I'm keenly aware that mine is not near the equivalent of others.

The day ended with a very nice meal in the dining tent replete with decorations and fresh cooked foods.  We enjoyed each others company, shared stories of our kids we chatted with during the day and bragged about our amazing wives holding everything together back home.  We took our time to eat and didn't rush back to a mission or a meeting, we were done for the day.

My room has a strand of Christmas lights and I'm listening to the Boston Pops Holiday CD on my iPod.  My iPad is flipping through the pictures of my girls from Christmases with family in Massachusetts, Colorado, Ohio and New York.  I guess I can add Afghanistan to that list.

I'm enjoying thinking about next year and how much more personal and meaningful it will be for me, trying to keep awake because tomorrow is just another day.  At least the tomorrow's are starting to add up, each one another day closer to being home.

With All Good Intentions

Today took us outside of the wire to a local bazaar.  We are often asked to identify how well businesses are doing, how they perceive their micro-economies and how

Forgive and forget

Growing up I was taught to forgive and forget.  Those that know me best understand all too well that this has always been difficult for me.  It's not so much the forgive part, but the forgetting.  It's a constant effort to ensure that I don't allow my mind to over analyze or self deprecate about things that have happened in the past.  Forgiveness given and received should relegated to the unused recesses of our minds so that past transgressions don't consume the present. 

Sometimes just listening helps elders open a
dialog to resolve their own issues.

Afghanistan has a completely different philosophy when it comes to transgressions that may deserve forgiveness.  A man who has been crossed will often harbor ill will, as will his son, and his, and so on.  When I travel among the local populace I will often encounter an elder who has a story to tell.  Many times this story is about something that is troubling him or his family.  A goat that was stolen by a fellow villager's grandfather from his grandfather thirty years ago is still a raw wound, a great grandfather who repudiated another man's daughter after years of marriage can lead to decades of fighting.  Many of these conflicts make the Hatfields and McCoys appear to be merely quibbling siblings.

The history of conflicts between people and families runs deep here in Afghanistan.  The conflict can lead to assaults, rapes, and murders.  There is seemingly no limit to the extent a family will seek badal, the Pashtunwali word for "justice."  What is interesting, however, is that when we attempt to help mediate the decades old troubles, there is an element of forgetfulness if not forgiveness.

A recent opportunity to work with two village elders to resolve a water resource issue was ultimately determined to be due to a land dispute that had been going on for half a century.  Afghanistan has no land records that are credible so there is no way to objectively determine where land boundaries are.

We took the time to talk with the elders to find the root cause and went through years of family scorn, killing of livestock and other heinous acts.  But most flustering was that in the end, neither of the men could point to the original reason why the dispute arose other than it was a dispute over who owned what land, but even then they couldn't say exactly what land.  They had forgotten the root cause.

Qur'an verse 24:22 says, "They should rather pardon and overlook.  Would you not love Allah to forgive you?"  Sounds very familiar to forgive and forget.  I have to be extremely cautious about quoting the Qur'an here in Afghanistan, many Muslims would be deeply offended if they knew that I've studied the Qur'an and the Hadith.  Yet still I try to casually ask them what they felt about Allah's forgiveness and sometimes, though less often than I would like, it helps forward the debate between the conflicted parties.

The Afghan populace must learn to forgive and forget, or at least forgive and move on.  Harboring decades - or even centuries - of discontent will only continue to lead to violence.  When the NATO security presence leaves, the country will be left with resolving its own conflicts.  What better time to embrace the words of the Qur'an, pardon and overlook the past in order to build a new and prosperous future.

Until next time

Most of us have experienced the signs.  It starts with a strange sensation in the throat, a feeling that you want to swallow but you just can’t.  You’re not really sure what it is yet, there’s a lump that seems to be growing.  Then your nose twitches as you try to breathe more deeply so that the feeling goes away.  But when the eyes start to blink and feel warm and wet as they do when the sun is too bright on a lazy day at the beach or a crisp morning on the slopes, you recognize the signs.

Then the battle begins.  Your amazing wife is doing her best next to you on the drive to the airport to hold in her emotions and the wonderful girls in the back are quiet now, no more chatting about nothing that important to avoid talking about saying goodbye.  It’s only a couple of miles and the airport signs are everywhere now that tell you there are only a few precious minutes left. 

After a what seems like an hour of quiet I tell Marianne, “Hey, don’t forget to send me pictures when you ride.”  What shallow words, I think to myself, as I look for anything to say to break the tension.  We all know what we’re thinking and feeling, and the sullen “Ok, daddy” response makes me feel worse.  Caitlin demands, “Daddy, you have to send more videos!” and I realize that for the next few months, that’s all the personal contact we’ll have.  “Ok, I’ll try,” I reply knowing full well how bad my internet connection is and that it’s a promise I’ll likely break.

The terminal is in full view as I'm trying to will the car to head to arrivals instead of departures as we turn off to the terminal.  “Ok, quick hugs, no long goodbyes, I’ll be home before you know it!”  No response, but I didn’t really expect any.  The car pulls up to the curb and we all hop out, grab my bags and put them on the side, and then hug and kiss each other goodbye.  It’s easy not to say much when there’s nothing worth saying that hasn't been said in the past few hours.

These last few, quiet minutes speak volumes about our family and what we feel about each other.  We don't hear the hushed din of traffic or the bustle of people moving in and out of the terminal.  What can be clearly heard is Caitlin’s nervous giggle, Marianne’s labored “goodbye” and Carrie Lou’s stifled sniffle.  One, two, a dozen hugs later and we’re all holding it together pretty well. 

The girls hopped back in the car, a couple of hugs and kisses more, then Carrie Lou pulled away from the terminal with Caitlin nearly out the window.  She kept waving and yelling "Goodbye!" long after she could see me.  A deep breath, a wipe of my eye and I turned into the terminal to start my long journey back to Afghanistan.

I told the girls I'd be home before we knew it.  I wish I believed that.