Initial thoughts

I have often thought that I should start blogging about my experiences in Afghanistan. They are usually amazing, though sometimes almost unbelievable. I have lived there for a bit over two years and have seen more in that time than in my whole life put together. When you speak to an Afghan, they speak a language of brokenness. They will say, "she is a broken woman" in reference to a prostitute, "the streets are broken", in reference to the fact that there are not many intact roads in the country. This type of talk will go on for a few minutes, listing everything that is wrong, not working, or painful, and it will finally end with a deep sigh and the words, "Afghanistan is broken". I think this is partly what draws me to this place. It is a country broken by poverty and years of ethnic violence and war. Afghanistan is broken.
A few years ago, our local newspaper in the states had a section that was dedicated to the reconstruction of Afghanistan. After pages and pages of the pain and brokenness and hopelessness, the conclusion was that we could work for years and years and never make any headway.

I RESPECTFULLY DISAGREE.

Yes, there is severe poverty. I have sat with an eight month old baby in my arms who was the size of a newborn and watched as her life began to ebb away because her parents couldn't afford to feed her and their 7 other children. She had been brought to me too late to help. Yes, there is hopelessness. I have escorted a man to a clinic as a last ditch effort to save his life, which was ravaged by homelessness, heroin abuse, and an intractable case of TB. Yes, there is brokenness. The women that I counsel have seen so much trauma (husbands being murdered in front of them, children killed by landmines, personal rape and betrayal), that they cannot even cry anymore. When they tell their stories, stories so horrific that Stephen King would cringe, they tell them with completely detached expressions, as if they are recounting a history of white bread.

But there is hope. How do I know this? Well, I know because I have seen it. I see a people ravaged by pain, who continue to get up every morning, make breakfast, send their kids to school, go to work, and continue to breathe, even when bombs are falling. I have seen the hope in the eyes of the shopkeeper in my favorite fabric store in the bazaar. He says that he had been in a Taliban prison until US soldiers came in and freed him. He is now free to provide for his family. I see hope in the women who have taken the initiative to go to literacy classes to set an example of education for their young girls. I see hope in the young medical resident in the pediatric ward of the local hospital who genuinely cares for his patients and is trying his best to provide good medical care for them. I see hope in the new born babies' eyes as they enter the world. Death cannot have the victory!

I should also mention that I am a nurse. Yes, life in Afghanistan is hard, but it is the biggest blessing in my life, and it is a joy and a privilege to be able to help and serve these wonderful, loving, passionate, frustrating, smart, foolish, warring, and peace-loving people.