Frida's Notebook

A glimpse of myself

A shadow me, originally uploaded by frida world.

There is something about having someone whom you love deeply make the choice to step away from you that brings up all sorts of challenging questions. Under "normal" circumstances I suspect that I would have spent a lot of time in the past week reflecting on those questions.

Instead I'm covering for absent staff in the Kabul Head Office, working from 7.30am until 9.30pm with hardly the time to grab a protein bar and a diet coke for lunch (yes I am quite aware how many hideous additives I'm consuming). By the time I get back to the house where I'm staying I have barely the energy to say hello to my lovely hostess and brush my teeth before tumbling into bed.

There is no risk of lying awake at night wondering where my relationship went wrong or what I should be learning from all this. I fall asleep almost before my head hits the pillow and have to force myself out of bed when the alarm goes off at 6.30 the next morning.

But there are moments of quiet, as I sit in the car on the way to a meeting, or while I stand in line at the cafeteria waiting for my morning coffee. In these moments I get little flashes of knowing, a momentary sense of seeing through the layers of emotion into something that is true about me and about my life.

In those moments I get a glimpse of someone behind the harried and somewhat fragmented woman I've been meeting in the mirror for the past six months. I get a glimpse of myself, strong and loving and with a sense of fun and adventure. It is a relief, because there have been days when I was not altogether sure that I was still in there...

Book II

It doesn't seem right that the most exciting new book to be released this month is about women in Afghanistan, but it is not yet on sale here.

I first read about it on the Powell's bookstore online review, then my friend Home in Kabul raved about it here...

If you ahven't already read Hosseini's first novel, The Kite Runner, then I recommend you do. In his new novel, however, Hosseini has taken on an even more challenging proposition - to write the story of women of Afghanistan without falling into the traps that so many before him have. I haven't read it, but if Home in Kabul loves it then I have a very, very good feeling about it.

Now I want to read it, now! But as far as I am aware this book is not yet for sale in Kabul. If anyone reading this knows of where I can get a copy please let me know. Alternatively, I'm going on holiday next Thursday and will pass through Dubai and Bangkok (on my way to a fabulous yoga, meditation and cleansing retreat in Koh Samui, mmmm). So if anyone knows of great English language bookstores in either city please give me the heads-up.

But if you are lucky enough to be able to walk down to a bookstore and buy this book then go do it, when your finished reading it maybe you can send it to me!

I *heart* books

I've accumulated quite a pile of books here in Afghanistan. Every time I travel I pick up some new ones to add to my collection. The books come in three different types. There are the top-shelf books, the bottom-shelf books and the books that live on my treasured wooden bedside table.

On the top shelf are the novels, some wonderful novels by some great writers. I read them and loved them, but once they are read they go up on the shelf and wait for someone to come along who I think will enjoy them. Then they head out for a little tour of Afghanistan, making their way from one guesthouse to another and filling the long, lonely evenings of many different readers with a little adventure, beauty, drama and joy.

On the bottom shelf are my reference books. They include some reference books about Afghanistan and human rights along with my Astanga Vinyasa Yoga home practice guide, books on meditation and even a book on "drawing and sketching". These books are often pulled down for evening study or weekend play.

Then there are the books that never make it onto the shelves. There are about a dozen books that I refer to on an almost daily basis, or at least several times a week. These include my precious books of poetry - by Rumi, Carol Ann Duffy, Mary Oliver and Janet Frame. These are books that I dip into over and over again and each of which is special for its own sake and also for the sake of the wonderful women who either gave or recommended them to me.

My "close-to-hand" books also include the writings of Pema Chodron, the Buddhist nun whose tapes on "Going to the places that scare you" were my most constant and sane companion in the very darkest days of this winter. I now have two of her books, one of which was a gift from a very wise and kind friend. I read a little of Pema's teaching almost every morning before or after my seated meditation.

I also have two 'self-therapy' books on the go - one is by Fiona Harrold (Be Your Own Life Coach) and the other is by Stephanie Dowrick (Intimacy and Solitude). I brought both these books with me to Afghanistan when I first came because they are reliable and accessible tools for working through complex thoughts and feelings and I long ago decided to keep them always within reach. They have been travelling with me for many years now - Intimacy and Solitude was in Gaza with me eight years ago.

Also on my pile are at least two moleskine journals (for reasons I don't even understand I have two on the go at any given time), Sabrina Ward Harrison's journal 'The True and the Questions' and my newest writing companion - 'Writing Down the Bones' by Natalie Goldberg. My moleskins actually don't stay on the table, they come everywhere with me. I even take them into work meetings in case I get bored with the discussions or I'm simply overcome wih creative energy and have no choice but to whip out the moleskine and let it all out.

Sigh, I *heart* books!

PS:  I was very excited to get a comment on my recent post from a very special old friend from my days in the Gaza Strip. He said something very true and very on-the-button so I wanted to repeat it here in case it is as useful to someone else as it was to me (Thanks M x):

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man."

Malalai Joya suspended from Parliament

A while ago I wrote about Malalai Joya - if you haven't followed that link to the website of her supporters then do so now. She is pretty impressive.

Yesterday her fellow members of the Wolesi Jirga (House of Representatives/Parliament) voted to suspend her membership of the house in response to an interview she had given to Tolo TV in which she apparently (I haven't heard it) made insulting comments about the Wolesi Jirga and it's members.

Here is the transcript of their debate and decision - you will note some strong and clear voices of reason but in the end the majority view won out:

Download transcript_of_wj_session_monday_may_21_2007.doc

And here are some extracts:

MP Hamidullah Tookhi (Zabul):

-          MP Malalay Joya in her interview with Tolo TV insulted the National Assembly and the MPs. She should be legally prosecuted.

Qanooni:

-          I have not heard her interview is there any MP who heard her interview?

MP Amanullah Paiman (Badakhashan):

-          I heard her interview, in her interview she used bad words against the MPs and called them as Cobras; she also called the National Assembly as a barn, she said that cows, donkeys and dogs were useful than the MPs.

-          I cannot accept to sit with her under the same roof anymore.

-          The WJ should decide on her today.

MP Khiyal Mohammad Husaini (Ghazni):

-          There is no need for discussion, Malalay Joya has made shameful statements she should be expelled form the WJ.

Qanooni:

-          As I said I have not heard he interview.

-          I think that the decision of the WJ should be based on law and there should be enough reasons for making a decision.

-          In accordance with the WJ internal rules of procedure the administrative board has the right to take the following disciplinary actions against  MPs who violate the rules:

1. Advice.
2. Warning
3. Publish their name in the WJ internal journal
4. Deprive the member of participation in the session for one day.

-          Deprivation of more than one day from participating of the sessions shall be proposed by the administrative board and approved by the session.

-          There is nothing else in the WJ internal rules of procedure in this regard.

You see Qanooni was trying to maintain some sense of order here - but then things get, well, crazy

           MP Hamidullah Tookhi (Zabul):

-          I doubt if Malalay Joya is normal, first she should be prohibited of leaving the country then she should be referred to a doctor and after treatment she should be legally prosecuted.

-          Her issue should not be referred to the constitution or the WJ internal rules of procedure, she has insulted the MPs we should not waste the time we should decide on her now.

MP Mawlawi sheikh Ahmad (Faryab):

-          I agree with What MP Eng. Asem said.

-          Malalay Joya has committed a big sin from the shariah point of view and from the legal point of view she has committed a crime.

-          There is no need for formation of a commission we should refer her case to the court right now.

And this:

MP Haji Almas (Parwan):

-          The session right now should suspend her for one year and refer the case to the court.

MP Sadiqi Zada Nili (Daikundi):

-          It should also be clear that what conspiracy is behind the statements of Malalay Joya and it should be found that who are behind her.

-          She should be suspended and the countries that have good relations with Afghanistan should not grant visa for her.

Leading finally to this decision:

Qanooni:

-          According to the decision of the session, membership of MP Malalalay Joya was suspended for the remaining period of the National Assembly.

-          Malalay Joya has insulted the National Assembly she should be referred to the judiciary organs.

-          With effect from today Malalay Joya shall not be entitled of her salary and other privileges provided for MPs under the law.

Lessons in letting go: Part IV

Leaving I, originally uploaded by frida world.

Okay, I accept I am a slow learner. For the past eight months I've been learning, a little bit at a time, about letting go.

Let go of your sense of responsibility for changing the world.
Let go of your expectations of yourself and all the people around you.
Let go of your desire to be in control of the situation you are in.
Let go of guilt about not being able to protect those people in Shindand.
Let go of the safe and familiar and embrace the unknown, the chaotic.

I've been supposedly learning to let go and yet I haven't applied this lesson at all in my relationship. Instead of letting go I've been clinging on, I've been grasping at my boyfriend and believing that I needed him.

Yesterday I read these words: "Most of the pain of change comes from our resistance to it."

*pop*

Something literally clicked in my mind and in my heart and I suddenly felt willing to let go.

I was feeling sad because I felt I was losing something, but I know that everything is temporary, everything changes, nothing stays the same. So why not let go? Why not embrace the new, the unknown, the possible, the exciting future?

I feel so much lighter and happier - it is amazing. Really amazing. Last night my yoga buddy could see the dramatic change in me, and although she was obviously happy for me she cautioned me to remember that "these things go in waves".

Maybe she is right, perhaps in a few days I'll be hit by a different wave of sadness. But honestly, I don't think I will. I really gave myself all the space I needed to sit with the sadness. For five and a half days I let myself feel every ripple of loss. I sat down with my pain and had a good look at it. I started to be able to name the different parts of it.

Five and a half days of crying gave the time and space for a lot of pain to come out - and it was not all to do with the end of my relationship. There was left-over pain from the trauma of October, from the dark, scary, lonely months of this winter, and from the recent months of learning to let go little by little.

I cried me a river. More than I have ever cried before. It was all the things people tell you it will be - it was cathartic, it was tiring, it was a release and quite frankly it was a huge relief. I stopped trying to control and reshape my pain into something else and just let it be. I sat with my own sadness and little by little as I let it all go I started to see myself more clearly.

I recalled my own strength, my own optimism, the worldwide network of loving friends and family that I have built and nutured throughout my life. I saw my experiences, my skills, my wisdom and all my potential again. I felt my own smile come back - and I felt for the first time in eight months free of the squeeze of sadness in my chest.

This morning I feel a little bit sorry that it took this for me to get here. That it took my lovely, patient boyfriend getting to the point of no return for me to reach the point of letting go. I feel a little bit sorry about that because I can see now that my unwillingness to let go was a huge part of what was making our relationship unbearable. But in any case, right now I feel liberated. I feel liberated and happy.

Is that weird?

The long arm of justice

Chief Judge I, originally uploaded by frida world.

This is the Chief Provincial Judge of Ghor province, photographed in his chambers (notably also his bedroom) when I was delivering some sets of Afghan laws for the use of the judiciary in Ghor province.

The promulgation and distribution of laws is a huge project in Afghanistan, which often seems to me to be taking much longer than it should, but which nonetheless is given high priority by a number of key donors.

That's the serious part of this post. Now for the ridiculous part. The bump on his head is from a fight he had with the Head of the Provincial Primary Court two days before I met him. Yes, a real fight, a scrap, a punch-up. A fist-fight!

These are judges, people. The objective, solemn arbiters of social conflict. They are the people to whom the community turns for fair and non-violent solutions to their conflicts. They are the people who are given the tools of the law and the authority of the courts in order to help their communities maintain order.

And, if you will excuse a little blatant ageism, they are old men! Men old enough to know, surely, much better.

But yes, they had come to physical blows on a Thursday afternoon. Neither of them would tell me straight out what the fight had been about, but reasonably credible witnesses tell me that the Chief Judge was planning to post the Head of the Primary Court to one of the District Courts, in an unstable district of Ghor. He didn't want to go.

They fought.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But there has been enough reason to cry around here lately (and not just my personal sob-story) so I figured in this case I had to laugh.

Something to be thankful for...

If you are going to be dumped and heart-broken then it might as well be at the beginning of mango season. I can tell you that it is very hard to feel sorry for yourself when you are sitting in the sun eating a mango.

Good news?

Okay - I know I said that I wouldn't be writing about Afghanistan for a few weeks, but this report gave me a glimmer of hope on a story that had been previously feeling very hopeless so I couldn't resist sharing it. Let's all hope for the best, this story could still have a happy ending for the three Afghan staff of Terre d'Enfance and their families.

*Taliban hint at release of abducted Afghans*

May 20 - The Taliban on Saturday said they were going to release the three abducted Afghan staffers of the French-funded NGO, Children's Land. (Outlook Afghanistan)

Speaking to Pajhwok Afghan News over the telephone from an undisclosed location, Taliban purported spokesman Qari Yousaf Ahmadi said they would release the three Afghans soon.

Two French - a man and a woman - and three Afghan workers of the Children's Land were kidnapped while traveling on the Nimroz-Farah highway on April 4.

The two French were set free by the militants on by one on April 28 and May 11. However, release of the Afghan workers was withheld saying their fate would be decided by the Taliban shura.

As their initial demand, Taliban had asked the French government to withdraw its troops from Afghanistan.

They released the French woman saying it was a gesture of goodwill from the militants towards the government and people of France. The man was also freed later by the rebels, saying they had received some positive gestures from the president-elect Nicholas Sarkozay about the change in France policy on Afghanistan.

Earlier, the militants were widely condemned for their killing of an Afghan journalist Ajmal Naqshbandi. He was kidnapped along with Italian journalist Danielle Mastrogiacomo. The Italian man was swapped with five Taliban prisoners; however, the Afghan journalist was beheaded later.

On music, the body and poetry

Mattresses Ghor
Originally uploaded by frida world.

I have always been a girl with a soundtrack to my life. Music plays in my head constantly. I dance around my bedroom to the disco beats only I can hear. Sitting in meetings I am the only person slowly tapping my foot to the love ballad playing quietly in the background, but to me the music is always there. This morning music is gently guiding me through the beginnnings of this grief.

This morning Deb Talan sang to me:

you make a rift inside me
everyday
that you choose to stay
i walk the edge and
push it wider

you are forgiven
i open all my doors
you are forgiven
what a heart is for

i am no martyr
you give me reason
i try harder
and wait for a warmer season

meanwhile
you are forgiven
i hear a soft noise
like a sigh
a singing
like a lullaby

it is my heart
it is this wind
that blows
through
where you held me closer
where we whispered
this is
this is true

One of the reasons I live with music from dawn to dusk is that music speaks to all of me, the lyrics catch my thoughts and hold my heart, the drums pull at my "want-to-be-stomping" feet and the melodies pick up my spirit and take it dancing around the room. This process of unraveling love is happening to me on all those levels, body, mind and spirit.

As far as the body part goes, I'm watching with some surprise the effects of this loss on my physical self. While I consider myself to emotionally and mentally sensitive to the point of fragility under pressure, my body is generally pretty resilient.

I suffer much less than most people I know from the dramatic changes in bacteria that come from moving about in places like Afghanistan. I have not been seriously ill once in the years I've lived, worked and travlled in Asia, Africa and the Middle East.

But these past few days my body is picking up the weight of my sadness and pain and letting it out in its own ways. I have stomach problems of the sort most people get from drinking the water in Ghor, but which I seem to have developed from this dose of heart break. I am also a little bit dizzy, I lose my balance in little waves of something like vertigo.

Amidst the nausea and the dizziness I found that a wise and loving friend had placed a book of poems in my path, ready for me to stumble upon them today.

Here is an extract from 'Unloving' (Carol Ann Duffy, in "Rapture")

Unloving

Learn from the winter trees, the way
they kiss and throw away their leaves,
then hold their stricken faces in their hands
and turn to ice

The workshop in Ghor

PC members working on case study
Originally uploaded by frida world.

I've managed today to post some photos from the workshop on gender and criminal justice in Ghor, along with a variety of other photos taken over the week in Chegcharan.

The workshop photos are in a set (you can follow the link from the photo in this post) and I've added comments to give a taste of the substance and atmosphere of the event.

It was a mammoth effort but also a great pleasure. I loved the case study exercises best of all, the participants were wonderfully animated and engaged and the debate was lively.

My heart is literally aching and I feel a little bit light-headed from grieving for my love. It is hard to focus, hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard all over really. Sigh.