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09/30/2003: "Kandahar Chronicles #18 - 28/09/2003"

We stepped into the dark interior of the bamboo and mat structure that serves as an administrative office for Settlement Four. Seated along the far wall were seven men with great bushy beards and sharp eyes. Salaam alakom, brief handshakes and chai as we seated ourselves at the head of the rectangle of cushions. An elders meeting in the Zhare Dahst IDP camp. We sat talking quietly amongst ourselves as more men arrived in pairs or singly. Finally, it was agreed to start with fifteen wise men chosen by their fellow IDPs to represent them, as well as myself, Dr. Bertein, Safi our translator, and a few representatives from Intersos who manage the settlement. There was a shuffling silence as everyone got comfortable and then we began, all eyes on Bertein, the only doctor and woman in the room.

We had asked for this meeting in order to discuss the new opening hours of the Health Centres and to follow up on previous topics covered in an earlier meeting. There is no such thing as just posting a notice and distributing it to the settlements, everything must be presented at formal meetings with these men and then followed up after they have a chance to discuss it amongst themselves. Bertein got right to the point and the hours of operation topic was quickly dispensed with. Polite nods of understanding and then the questions began.

“We need a female doctor,” said an intelligent looking grey beard from Settlement Seven. “Why is it that MSF does not bring Afghan women doctors to treat our women? You must understand that in our culture it is unacceptable for a woman to be treated by a male doctor for woman troubles.”
Bertein fielded this question by explaining how few female Afghan doctors there were in the country, and the few available are quickly snapped up by agencies like WHO. In the more conservative areas of Afghanistan, like Kandahar, few females attended school after primary level, and during the time of the Taliban even that was prohibited.

“MSF only uses second rate doctors who will work in difficult places like this for little money!” barked a cranky old fellow that looked like a bearded pit bull. “All the good doctors work for the UN or in Kabul.”

Easy Tiger, one at a time. I took on the pit bull by explaining that MSF carefully selects their doctors from a wide pool of applicants and then give them training to a Western standard. Many of the doctors we employ are young and sacrifice higher paying jobs for a chance to work with us and the most needy populations. That shut him up long enough for him to draw a breath.

“Why do we have only one vehicle serving as an ambulance? What if there is an emergency? My settlement is far away.” He scowled, his eyebrows bunching together. “Why can’t MSF put a clinic in my settlement?”

Pal, if I could I’d give every family a land cruiser. “Unfortunately, we must operate under a budget…” etc, etc

This went on for about an hour. Bertein answered most of the questions in a firm manner and I jumped in when necessary. We brought up the idea of female guards in the health centres drawn from MSF staff as well as an equal number from the IDPs. Hopefully, this would serve to encourage more women to come for treatment instead of suffering in silence. They thought this was a fine idea and promised to select good candidates for us to interview.

We finished the meeting with an agreement to have another next month and stepped out into the cool, bright parking area. A little girl who looked like she belonged in a toyshop scampered past me and into the arms of the pit bull. He scooped her up and his whole demeanour changed. Suddenly he was everyone’s favourite Grandpa. He brought her over to me and showed me her fingers on her left hand. They had been badly burned and had fused together. There was pathetic little strength when she squeezed my finger.

He turned and walked away with her in his arms, her eyes peering over his shoulder locked on mine. I realized these men had enormous responsibility and no means except talking or arguing to care for their people. They have lost their homes, lands and animals. Everything they have has been a hand out and with little opportunities to find work, all they can do is push for more.