"Kandahar Chronicles is the ongoing story of the day-to-day life of an MSF (Médecins Sans Frontières) Field Logistician based in Kandahar Afghanistan. You can email the author your questions and comments here: carlos@citizenlab.orgSaturday, August 16, 2003Kandahar Chronicles #3 - 16/08/2003Shit. We just had one of our expats resign today after only two weeks. She's never travelled outside of Europe before and I think Kandahar is freaking her out. I guess it's not for everybody this bouncing around war zones swatting flies and trying to come to terms with 45 C daily temperatures. Sometimes I wake up feeling like Martin Sheen in the opening ten minutes of Apocalypse Now and go to bed feeling like Brando in the last ten minutes. Mr. Kurtz could live here in splendid madness as easily as Vietnam or the Congo. Armed thugs ripping around the IDP camp last night set the tone for the whole bloody day. One shitty thing after another. posted by @ 05:04 PM EST [more..] Kandahar Chronicles #2 - 15/08/2003 As this is only the second installment of these chronicles, I didn't want to get into security issues until I'd had a chance to go into a few details of what it is we are trying to do here. However, events over the last two weeks and particularly in the last few days have put security matters first and foremost throughout the country. Humanitarian aid organizations by the very nature of their work frequently operate in areas of conflict and because of this both expats and national staff must accept that there are certain risks associated with this kind of work. Violence can come with the suddeness of a motorcycle ambush or with the patience of a landmine. Security assessments are carried out by representatives of the various NGOs in weekly meetings to try to gauge where incidents might be leading but this is at best an inexact science. posted by @ 11:35 AM EST [more..] Friday, August 15, 2003Kandahar Chronicles #1 - 13/08/2003The queue starts at about 7 am every morning under the bamboo and plastic shelter outside the Basic Health Unit (BHU). Most people manage to find a place to sit on the matted floor while others support themselves on the arms of relatives or children. The kids dressed in dusty cast offs stare at me with big, luminous eyes; brown, green and sky blue. The desert is cool in the morning and the air is still, but the people know that in the terrible heat of the Kandahar summer the wind and dust storms are only a few hours away. They get impatient when they see me, the women pointing to the various ailments of the children and jabbering in Pashtu. I see a small girl sitting quietly in the corner, her pretty face brutally scarred on one side and covered with the purple stain of old disinfectant. posted by @ 03:42 PM EST [more..] |
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