I have seen them numerous times along the road, women dressed in colorful clothing with many children, some walking some riding donkeys or camels. They carry their entire livelyhood on the backs of their camels. They always seemed so mysterious and exotic. I always wondered what they would be like up close.
Yesterday, I had the chance to meet them. I went out to one of their camps, as a literacy class, and a women's birth life saving skills was going on. I was mostly there to observe the classes, but I was able to see into lives that have not changed for over 2,000 years.
At first, I felt as though I had stepped into a scene from the Bible. There were little tents scattered around, and small thatched shelters where sheep, goats and chickens found shade from the unrelenting Afghan sun. A family of 13 (wife, husband, and 11 children) would live in a tent the size of one that a small family in the states might go camping in. It sounds simple and romantic, but then, you get to know them a bit better. One woman came to me and told me that she was a widow and had only one son, and one daughter. Something happened to the son two years ago, and would I please go and look at him? I went and saw what I feared most. He was brain damaged. He looked to be about 14-15 years old, but looked and behaved just like a child with CP, only CP doesn't start at 12. His mother said that he came in one day, had blood dripping from his nose, and drooled, and had been lame ever since. She denied any accidents, but I don't know how else to explain it. He didn't have a high fever, which rules out meningitis and polio. It was so sad. She is completely unable to support herself.
Before I went to see him, I sat in a tent with about 5 other women from the village and drank tea. They pulled out all of the snacks that they had, including a few raisins, a few hard candies, and some tiny dry chickpeas. Flies were so thick on the candies that you could barely even see them. As we sat there, I wondered what I could do to help them. Suddenly I thought I could take the opportunity to teach them a bit about burn safety.
I actually had a lead in, so it was an easy transition. the tent was very small, we had to sit hunched over to fit. So I asked where they did the cooking. They said they put the propane tank with a small burner on top right in the middle of the tent. HELLO!!!! That screams danger to me. So I told them to try to keep their children away from it. But if they do get burned, just to pour cold water on it, no oil or butter. They they asked, what about toothpaste? That is what they put on it here, I don't know why, except that it is minty and probably feels cool to the skin. I said no, just cold water, and if it turns black, to please please please go to the doctor. Actually I did not really see anyone with burn scars there the way I usually do. I don't know if it is because they don't get burned as often, or that if they do, they die. That would be worth investigating.
Then, I told the children that they needed to remember, if their clothes ever catch on fire they should not run, but drop and roll. One of my goals is that every child in Afghanistan would learn that mantra... "stop, drop and roll!".
Oh, by the way, they only speak Pashtu, and I only speak Dari, so all of this passed through a translator. Unfortunately, I am too busy to get involved with t e Kuchis, but hopefully something I said sank in.
I had been discouraged about my previous work here. Things change so slowly. But a friend told me a couple of weeks ago. There are two children that are not in the grave today because of your lessons. That may seem like very little to you, but it is very great to the parents of those two children. Hopefully my simple words yesterday will keep other children from the grave as well.
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