Last November when I was in Addis Ababa there were organized protests against what many consider to be fraudulent election results from the national elections last May. The government police reacted strongly, firing live ammunition at rock-throwing protestors (when they had access to water cannons, rubber bullets and tear gas), and in the end 60 protestors were killed, some shot in the back. This is my first trip back here since then, and it is interesting to see that the tension I felt in November is still simmering just below the surface.
One expatriate woman I met with today who is very well connected with government (and so discusses topics most expats would never dream of broaching) told me that in November the government really believed that they were fighting an insurrection, and so reacted accordingly. I cannot accept that anyone would believe that a group of unarmed individuals attempting to express an opinion were trying to overthrow the government, except through democratic means. In order to stop this insurrection, the government also arrested opposition leaders and the editors of major opposition papers (which were put out of business) because of course they must be the masterminds behind the insurrection. These individuals are currently on trial for treason, and depending on the results of the trial, I would not be at all surprised if there was further turbulence here.
As the trial began last week, Addis Ababa was hit by a series of bombs that killed five people and injured forty. No one has claimed responsibility for the attacks but sadly I would not put it past the government to be behind it themselves in an attempt to destabilize the city so they can justify their behavior.
In Addis, the center of government descent, people talk openly about the “bad” government. Evidence of the repercussions abound. This morning I drove past a building that housed a business. This afternoon the roughly constructed building had been torn down by the government. My driver seemed to imply political retribution.
Tonight I saw police officers and other police employees being transported home in a special police bus. When I asked my driver about it he told me that since November police have not been able to walk in the streets because people will attack them.
The region of Tigray, where my evaluation is based, is where the Ethiopian president is from, and it is where the party in power is based. Since November, Tigray has become a very unpopular place in Addis so much so that the organization that I am working with here had a difficult time convincing their employees (who are not from Tigray) that they needed to continue to work on a Tigray development program. So our evaluation of the project is extremely politically sensitive. Many people would like to see the project cancelled, while in Tigray they will see such a more as purely politically motivated. No pressure on advising on the future of the program!
I’m sure I will have more on this topic once I arrive in Tigray on Thursday.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Direct Budget Support
I’m in Ethiopia for two weeks to evaluate a project implemented by a different donor than I am usually working with. This assignment is really interesting because the donor has a very different approach to development than the donor I am used to working with. With the model I am used to, the donor funds individual stand alone targeted projects that are implemented by consulting firms (like mine) or NGOs. This donor supports the government by directly putting money into their budget and letting the government decide how it should be spent and managed. The Ethiopian government is then supposed to send the donor reports that (hopefully) show that basic service provision increased with the added funds in the budget.
I have never really thought direct budget support (or DBS as it is called) is a good idea. I know it is paternalistic, but with the low level of capacity in the government and the high potential for corruption, it just seems to me that the money has more impact on the ground when it is used to fund projects. In fact, at the end of day two in Ethiopia, I am finding this assignment a little depressing because it does not seem that the project is having a major impact (although I can’t say for sure as the evaluation is not over and I am of course not biasing the results).
DBS was a very popular form of aid in Ethiopia until last November (when I was last here) when the government decided to shoot 60 people protesting the election results from last May. The international community responded quickly by suspending all DBS and the Ethiopian government lost 300 million dollars from their operating budget overnight. As you can imagine this has a dramatic impact on the health, education, agriculture, and other sectors supported by the government. So donors are now scrambling to figure out how to maintain the provision of basic services. The plan is to provide budget support at the regional level (Ethiopia is a federation of regions), but this does not address my concerns.
DBS is mostly a tool to influence governance in developing countries. It can be used to reward good governance, such as in Malawi where DBS was reinstated after democratic elections and a change of government in, or to punish bad governance such as here in Ethiopia. But if you believe that the objective of aid funds should be to reduce poverty, tackle disease and build strong economies, then I would argue the DBS is a bunch of political BS diverting funds from where it is really needed.
I have never really thought direct budget support (or DBS as it is called) is a good idea. I know it is paternalistic, but with the low level of capacity in the government and the high potential for corruption, it just seems to me that the money has more impact on the ground when it is used to fund projects. In fact, at the end of day two in Ethiopia, I am finding this assignment a little depressing because it does not seem that the project is having a major impact (although I can’t say for sure as the evaluation is not over and I am of course not biasing the results).
DBS was a very popular form of aid in Ethiopia until last November (when I was last here) when the government decided to shoot 60 people protesting the election results from last May. The international community responded quickly by suspending all DBS and the Ethiopian government lost 300 million dollars from their operating budget overnight. As you can imagine this has a dramatic impact on the health, education, agriculture, and other sectors supported by the government. So donors are now scrambling to figure out how to maintain the provision of basic services. The plan is to provide budget support at the regional level (Ethiopia is a federation of regions), but this does not address my concerns.
DBS is mostly a tool to influence governance in developing countries. It can be used to reward good governance, such as in Malawi where DBS was reinstated after democratic elections and a change of government in, or to punish bad governance such as here in Ethiopia. But if you believe that the objective of aid funds should be to reduce poverty, tackle disease and build strong economies, then I would argue the DBS is a bunch of political BS diverting funds from where it is really needed.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Karma
If I were someone who believed in signs - and sometimes I am - I might think this trip to Ethiopia was not a good idea. Why?
1. I was only home for 10 days between trips and that time was filled with the joy of proposal writing, so it was never going to be fun, but I arrived home with a vicious Afghan (Taliban?) bug and spent my first three days at home in bed.
2. Last night I went out for a fun dinner with friends but at 11 pm when I went back to my rental car I discovered that someone had tried to steal it and had smashed in the window and busted the locks. However, instead of viewing this as bad karma, I chose to look at it as good karma as it could have been so much worse. They did not steal the car. I had a friend with me who was a great help. And most amazingly, my laptop was in the trunk of the car and they did not steal it! Very lucky! I called the police, but decided not to wait and it took them an hour to show up. (I know because they called to find out where I was). We went to the station and filled out a report, I drove to my friend's house and left my car there - I could not leave it on the street in my neighborhood with an open window. Instead of an early evening, I ended up getting home at almost 2 am!
3. I had a very nice Afghan cab driver take me to the airport and on our way, we had to pull over to let a cop car pass. As soon as they passed us the car screeched to a stop in the middle of the road and two officers jumped out. Suddenly there were police everywhere chasing a guy with a backpack who was trying to get away, but very quickly realizing it was futile. The police cornered him and he put his hands up then lay down in the middle of the street in front of us as 6 officers hand cuffed him. It was my own private episode of Cops. (And just to be clear, this did not take place in my neighborhood!)
So it has been an interesting departure, and I am sure it will be an interesting trip. I am heading to Ethiopia to evaluate the HIV/AIDS aspects of a development program. The program is based in Tigray in the north of the county and that is where I will be spending most of my time. Of course I have not actually read any of the background documents, so time to get to work. Thank goodness I am flying business class for the first time in my life (even if it is Ethiopian Airways), so hopefully I will both get some sleep and get some work done.
1. I was only home for 10 days between trips and that time was filled with the joy of proposal writing, so it was never going to be fun, but I arrived home with a vicious Afghan (Taliban?) bug and spent my first three days at home in bed.
2. Last night I went out for a fun dinner with friends but at 11 pm when I went back to my rental car I discovered that someone had tried to steal it and had smashed in the window and busted the locks. However, instead of viewing this as bad karma, I chose to look at it as good karma as it could have been so much worse. They did not steal the car. I had a friend with me who was a great help. And most amazingly, my laptop was in the trunk of the car and they did not steal it! Very lucky! I called the police, but decided not to wait and it took them an hour to show up. (I know because they called to find out where I was). We went to the station and filled out a report, I drove to my friend's house and left my car there - I could not leave it on the street in my neighborhood with an open window. Instead of an early evening, I ended up getting home at almost 2 am!
3. I had a very nice Afghan cab driver take me to the airport and on our way, we had to pull over to let a cop car pass. As soon as they passed us the car screeched to a stop in the middle of the road and two officers jumped out. Suddenly there were police everywhere chasing a guy with a backpack who was trying to get away, but very quickly realizing it was futile. The police cornered him and he put his hands up then lay down in the middle of the street in front of us as 6 officers hand cuffed him. It was my own private episode of Cops. (And just to be clear, this did not take place in my neighborhood!)
So it has been an interesting departure, and I am sure it will be an interesting trip. I am heading to Ethiopia to evaluate the HIV/AIDS aspects of a development program. The program is based in Tigray in the north of the county and that is where I will be spending most of my time. Of course I have not actually read any of the background documents, so time to get to work. Thank goodness I am flying business class for the first time in my life (even if it is Ethiopian Airways), so hopefully I will both get some sleep and get some work done.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Marriage by Abduction
I often tell people that the average age of marriage for girls in Ethiopia is 13 years and that more than half of marriages are by abduction, but I can see in there eyes that they just don't believe me. Here is a sad tale as told by the BBC (http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/2/hi/africa/4763185.stm in case you need to see it on their webiste to believe it).
Ethiopian girls fear forced marriage
By Amber Henshaw BBC News, Ethiopia
Mulu Melka from the Oromia region of Ethiopia was just 11 years old the first time she was abducted for marriage. She was grabbed from behind by a group of men as she walked home from the local mill. She fell to the ground and was dragged to her captor's house. Three months ago she was abducted again. She is now 13. Mulu managed to escape on both occasions but marriage by abduction is a widespread problem in Ethiopia. Figures suggest that in one region of the country 92% of all marriages result from girls being captured and kidnapped.
Mulu said: "I escaped from the abductor's house while he and his friends were drinking and dancing. I went to the toilet and then I escaped through a fence and ran away. In the meantime my parents had a meeting with the abductor's parents which was mediated by village elders and my parents agreed that I should go back to the abductor's house but I refused and stayed with my uncle."
HIV test
After a year Mulu, who has five younger siblings, went back to the family home. In February, her parents received a letter from another suitor asking to marry Mulu but she refused so the 39-year-old man turned up at the house and kidnapped her with her parents' consent. "I managed to get my parents to agree for us to be tested for HIV because I had heard about it at school and on the radio. I was negative but my abductor was positive." Mulu's parents agreed that she did not have to marry the man. In many ways she was luckier than most.
One of Mulu's school friends, Aberash, was 12 when she was forced to marry a man of 30 who beat and raped her causing lasting injuries. Aberash managed to escape and went to her parents' home but with the backing of the local court they forced her to return to her husband. With the help of a teacher she is now trying to get a divorce.
Poverty
The most up-to-date figures from the National Committee on Traditional Practices of Ethiopia are from 2003. They suggest that in the Southern Nations, Nationalities and People's Region (SNNPR) that it accounts for 92% of all marriages and in the Oromia region, where Mulu lives, it is 80%. Seven other girls have also been abducted from Mulu's Dima School in Alem Gena, about 30km (19 miles) from Ethiopia's capital, Addis Ababa, so far this year.
In many cases girls are often raped and beaten after they have been captured. Head teacher Hundessa Negesso said poverty was a key reason for abduction. "If they marry the girl legally they have to pay a lot of money to the parents of the girl but when it is abduction they take her by force then the elders intervene to mediate and they pay a very little amount of money or cattle to marry the girl." Mr Negesso said men also abducted girls when their parents would not agree to marriage.
'Terrified'
Elleni Mamo, from the United Nations children's agency, Unicef, says poverty also means many parents accept their daughter's abduction. One of the key ways is through education at school, within communities and through radio programmes. "Parents don't have money for their children to go to school so they prefer for them to be abducted and married." Unicef and other charities are encouraging families to go to the police rather than to village elders to sort out abduction cases. For Mulu and her school friends, change cannot come soon enough. She says she is terrified about walking home from school every day or going to market for fear that she may be abducted for a third time.
Ethiopian girls fear forced marriage
By Amber Henshaw BBC News, Ethiopia
Mulu Melka from the Oromia region of Ethiopia was just 11 years old the first time she was abducted for marriage. She was grabbed from behind by a group of men as she walked home from the local mill. She fell to the ground and was dragged to her captor's house. Three months ago she was abducted again. She is now 13. Mulu managed to escape on both occasions but marriage by abduction is a widespread problem in Ethiopia. Figures suggest that in one region of the country 92% of all marriages result from girls being captured and kidnapped.
Mulu said: "I escaped from the abductor's house while he and his friends were drinking and dancing. I went to the toilet and then I escaped through a fence and ran away. In the meantime my parents had a meeting with the abductor's parents which was mediated by village elders and my parents agreed that I should go back to the abductor's house but I refused and stayed with my uncle."
HIV test
After a year Mulu, who has five younger siblings, went back to the family home. In February, her parents received a letter from another suitor asking to marry Mulu but she refused so the 39-year-old man turned up at the house and kidnapped her with her parents' consent. "I managed to get my parents to agree for us to be tested for HIV because I had heard about it at school and on the radio. I was negative but my abductor was positive." Mulu's parents agreed that she did not have to marry the man. In many ways she was luckier than most.
One of Mulu's school friends, Aberash, was 12 when she was forced to marry a man of 30 who beat and raped her causing lasting injuries. Aberash managed to escape and went to her parents' home but with the backing of the local court they forced her to return to her husband. With the help of a teacher she is now trying to get a divorce.
Poverty
The most up-to-date figures from the National Committee on Traditional Practices of Ethiopia are from 2003. They suggest that in the Southern Nations, Nationalities and People's Region (SNNPR) that it accounts for 92% of all marriages and in the Oromia region, where Mulu lives, it is 80%. Seven other girls have also been abducted from Mulu's Dima School in Alem Gena, about 30km (19 miles) from Ethiopia's capital, Addis Ababa, so far this year.
In many cases girls are often raped and beaten after they have been captured. Head teacher Hundessa Negesso said poverty was a key reason for abduction. "If they marry the girl legally they have to pay a lot of money to the parents of the girl but when it is abduction they take her by force then the elders intervene to mediate and they pay a very little amount of money or cattle to marry the girl." Mr Negesso said men also abducted girls when their parents would not agree to marriage.
'Terrified'
Elleni Mamo, from the United Nations children's agency, Unicef, says poverty also means many parents accept their daughter's abduction. One of the key ways is through education at school, within communities and through radio programmes. "Parents don't have money for their children to go to school so they prefer for them to be abducted and married." Unicef and other charities are encouraging families to go to the police rather than to village elders to sort out abduction cases. For Mulu and her school friends, change cannot come soon enough. She says she is terrified about walking home from school every day or going to market for fear that she may be abducted for a third time.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Stay Tuned
I arrived back from Afghanistan on Monday and I am getting ready to leave for Ethiopia in a week (less than two weeks at home). This would all be a lot easier if I hadn't picked up an Afghan bug or two and if I weren't trying to finish a proposal due two days before I leave for Ethiopia - but, I am really looking forward to this trip.
I will doing a project evaluation for a donor from the country of my other nationality and will be heading to Tigray in the north of the country, where I have never been before. (I spent two months in Addis Ababa in 2004 starting up an urban houshold nutrition garden program targeting AIDS-affected women, and two weeks in Addis last year - see previous blogs - collecting information for a proposal which we unfortunately did not win). Tigray has a fascinating history so I am hoping to escape from work and do some exploring while there.
Also of note, last time I was there I spent my last three days holed up in the hotel listening to machine gun fire on the streets outside as police opened fired on citizens protesting what they believe were fraudulent elections. 60 people were killed. While I was there, the police arrested 13 members of the opposition party and opposition reporters. Their trial starts the week I arrive.
Should be a very intersting trip....
I will doing a project evaluation for a donor from the country of my other nationality and will be heading to Tigray in the north of the country, where I have never been before. (I spent two months in Addis Ababa in 2004 starting up an urban houshold nutrition garden program targeting AIDS-affected women, and two weeks in Addis last year - see previous blogs - collecting information for a proposal which we unfortunately did not win). Tigray has a fascinating history so I am hoping to escape from work and do some exploring while there.
Also of note, last time I was there I spent my last three days holed up in the hotel listening to machine gun fire on the streets outside as police opened fired on citizens protesting what they believe were fraudulent elections. 60 people were killed. While I was there, the police arrested 13 members of the opposition party and opposition reporters. Their trial starts the week I arrive.
Should be a very intersting trip....
Monday, May 08, 2006
Leaving Kabul…again
Leaving was bitter sweet. It’s always good to be heading home, but I am starting to feel attached to this place (after only two visits of one week each!) There is something about the culture, the landscape, the people that just sucks me in. I am also getting to the point that I know people in Kabul, Herat, and Jalalabad (although I’ve never been there) and can have something of social life here.
The journey home (which is only half-way through as I am writing this in Paris) has been arduous so far, with a few moments of enjoyment. My flight from Kabul left at 8:30am, so we had to be at the airport at 6:30 – another night of four hours of sleep. We flew into Dubai and my colleagues and I decided to take a hotel room to make that 14 hour layover a little more bearable. (This was not an easy decision for me after spending time with NGO staff that guilted me about staying in expensive hotels when working on poverty reduction.)
The first thing I did in Dubai was go to the gym for a good long run. I’m supposed to be training for a triathlon, but Afghanistan is really not the place to do it. I did manage to fit in one run at the guesthouse in Herat, but that’s it. After a few hours of work and after the heat of the day had dissipated (it was 44C/112F the day before we arrived), my colleague and headed out exploring the souks (markets). We went to the gold souk, the spice souk (where they laughed at me when I asked if they had Afghan saffron) and then took a water taxi across the harbor to the fabric souk. It was a surreal moment to stop and think that I had just been in Kabul, Afghanistan, I was now in Dubai and I would shortly be heading back to Washington.
Dubai is an interesting place. Very sterile in a lot of ways. It seems to have very low crime; it’s clean and shinny and new. Even the souks had wide streets and were brightly lit (unlike the souks of north Africa which are usually in a maze of dark disorienting alleys). But the most interesting thing about Dubai is its diversity. I do not think that I have been to a more diverse city in all my travels. We saw people from Italy, France, Afghanistan, the Philippines, Korea, West Africa and heard many other languages that I did not even recognize. And these were not tourists but people living and working in this strange city in the desert. I can’t say that it is a city that I would want to spend more time in, but it is certainly interesting. We returned to the hotel in time for a quick dinner and departure for the airport at 10:30pm for our 1am flight.
The flight was literally from hell. The gentleman in front of me tipped his seat all the way back. When I tried to tip my seat back, the West African woman behind me pushed my seat back into an upright position! She tapped me on the shoulder and went off at me in French (which I was too tired to understand). I eventually asked the flight attendant to intervene and explain the rules of seat etiquette to her (that you can tip your seat back). The West African woman eventually moved to the empty seat beside her. The seat next to me was occupied by a froggy Frenchman (as opposed to a nice Frenchman) who had a cold and kindly avoided coughing on his wife by coughing on me all night. Then the gentleman in front of me pushed my toe of the end of his armrest every time just as I was falling asleep. (I find the only way to sleep on a plane is to roll up into a ball against the window with my feet balance on the edge of the armrest in front of me.) All in all a miserable flight, but it just means the next one has to be better. (Sorry about the venting, but I am sitting here in Charles de Gualle airport with nothing else to think of but how tired I am!)
I'm now home so wanted to end on a brighter note. The last leg of the journey was great – three seats to myself and 6 solid hours of sleep! It was my first time coming back to my new home from travel and it is so good to be home! Of course, I can’t get too settled as I am heading to Ethiopia in just 10 days. More blogging then....
The journey home (which is only half-way through as I am writing this in Paris) has been arduous so far, with a few moments of enjoyment. My flight from Kabul left at 8:30am, so we had to be at the airport at 6:30 – another night of four hours of sleep. We flew into Dubai and my colleagues and I decided to take a hotel room to make that 14 hour layover a little more bearable. (This was not an easy decision for me after spending time with NGO staff that guilted me about staying in expensive hotels when working on poverty reduction.)
The first thing I did in Dubai was go to the gym for a good long run. I’m supposed to be training for a triathlon, but Afghanistan is really not the place to do it. I did manage to fit in one run at the guesthouse in Herat, but that’s it. After a few hours of work and after the heat of the day had dissipated (it was 44C/112F the day before we arrived), my colleague and headed out exploring the souks (markets). We went to the gold souk, the spice souk (where they laughed at me when I asked if they had Afghan saffron) and then took a water taxi across the harbor to the fabric souk. It was a surreal moment to stop and think that I had just been in Kabul, Afghanistan, I was now in Dubai and I would shortly be heading back to Washington.
Dubai is an interesting place. Very sterile in a lot of ways. It seems to have very low crime; it’s clean and shinny and new. Even the souks had wide streets and were brightly lit (unlike the souks of north Africa which are usually in a maze of dark disorienting alleys). But the most interesting thing about Dubai is its diversity. I do not think that I have been to a more diverse city in all my travels. We saw people from Italy, France, Afghanistan, the Philippines, Korea, West Africa and heard many other languages that I did not even recognize. And these were not tourists but people living and working in this strange city in the desert. I can’t say that it is a city that I would want to spend more time in, but it is certainly interesting. We returned to the hotel in time for a quick dinner and departure for the airport at 10:30pm for our 1am flight.
The flight was literally from hell. The gentleman in front of me tipped his seat all the way back. When I tried to tip my seat back, the West African woman behind me pushed my seat back into an upright position! She tapped me on the shoulder and went off at me in French (which I was too tired to understand). I eventually asked the flight attendant to intervene and explain the rules of seat etiquette to her (that you can tip your seat back). The West African woman eventually moved to the empty seat beside her. The seat next to me was occupied by a froggy Frenchman (as opposed to a nice Frenchman) who had a cold and kindly avoided coughing on his wife by coughing on me all night. Then the gentleman in front of me pushed my toe of the end of his armrest every time just as I was falling asleep. (I find the only way to sleep on a plane is to roll up into a ball against the window with my feet balance on the edge of the armrest in front of me.) All in all a miserable flight, but it just means the next one has to be better. (Sorry about the venting, but I am sitting here in Charles de Gualle airport with nothing else to think of but how tired I am!)
I'm now home so wanted to end on a brighter note. The last leg of the journey was great – three seats to myself and 6 solid hours of sleep! It was my first time coming back to my new home from travel and it is so good to be home! Of course, I can’t get too settled as I am heading to Ethiopia in just 10 days. More blogging then....
Car accident
We came across a car accident today that had just happened. It involved a pedestrian and a motorcycle taxi (a rickshaw-like contraption pulled by a motorcycle). We were trying to go around the scene and so had a full view. The male pedestrian was buckled over on the ground holding his mangled leg. From inside the rickshaw came the wails of a woman who was clearly hurt. A handful of men were gathered around the riskshaw looking in. No one seemed to be moving to help her. I wandered if she was alone (without a male relative) and if these men were not helping her because by custom they could not touch her. My natural reaction was to stop and help – even my life guarding first aid course from 10 years ago was probably more medical training that most Afghans have – but I knew I couldn’t. It would create too much of a scene and a security risk. What struck me about the incident was that even if I was wrong about why no one was helping the woman, the fact that it was even a remote possibility that people were not helping her because they should not touch her is disturbing on so many levels.
Herat is far more conservative than Kabul. Whereas in Kabul you will see Afghan women dressed with long shirts (must cover butt and crotch) and headscarves falling back from their foreheads to reveal their hair, in Herat almost all women wore burkas, and only a few wore floor length scarves which covered as much as the burka except for the face. I was relieved that I had borrowed clothes from a colleague in Kabul because only one shirt I had brought from home was wearable. My headscarf had to cover my hair at all times, which is actually quite a challenge, but something I got better at with practice. I tried on a burka and was amazed at how tight it is on the forehead (to stop it from slipping), how difficult it was to see through the tiny thick blue grill, and how difficult it must be to maneuver while constantly holding the burka closed with one hand - it is open two feet across from below the waist to the floor, but must be held closed at all times, I have even seen women holding it closed with their mouths because their hands were full.
In Herat Afghan men would not shake my hand. In fact, many of them would not look at me at all or even acknowledge my presence. I know that this is a sign of respect in their culture, but it is difficult to be treated as invisible. Interestingly when I held focus groups with Afghan men, they did not greet me, but were happy to talk to me through a translator and even have eye contact during the discussion, but when we said goodbye, many of them again ignored me.
When I got back to Kabul, I went to the craft market that is held at the military base (as the military are not allowed to walk around Kabul and go to the markets). I jumped when people brushed past me and touched me in the bustle of the market and realized in that moment that no one had brushed up against me at all in my time in Afghanistan as Afghan men do not do touch women, not even brushing past foreign women in crowds. Not only is it disrespectful to the woman, but the man would also be chastised. Which is why I was completely creeped out when entering the airport and the guard who checked my ticket made a point of touching my fingers as he handed me back my ticket and brushed up against me as I walked through the door. It is funny how elsewhere the same action would have had no motive behind it and probably would have gone unnoticed by me.
I struggle with being a woman in this society, but at the same time it fascinates me. I want to push the mark and provide a positive example as I try to do when I am in Africa, but I am not sure that I know how. In Africa I know that I stick out as a professional woman and I try to be a positive example, but I also try to gain respect by being conservative and not drinking unless I am with other expats, wearing conservative clothes (no shorts), and avoiding conversations about the fact that I live alone in DC. But here my idea of being conservative is unacceptably risqué and even their idea of being liberal is too conservative for my beliefs. Trying to balance cultural sensitivity with my own feminist ways is a balancing act that I have yet to learn. Maybe on trip three I will get the hang of it.
Herat is far more conservative than Kabul. Whereas in Kabul you will see Afghan women dressed with long shirts (must cover butt and crotch) and headscarves falling back from their foreheads to reveal their hair, in Herat almost all women wore burkas, and only a few wore floor length scarves which covered as much as the burka except for the face. I was relieved that I had borrowed clothes from a colleague in Kabul because only one shirt I had brought from home was wearable. My headscarf had to cover my hair at all times, which is actually quite a challenge, but something I got better at with practice. I tried on a burka and was amazed at how tight it is on the forehead (to stop it from slipping), how difficult it was to see through the tiny thick blue grill, and how difficult it must be to maneuver while constantly holding the burka closed with one hand - it is open two feet across from below the waist to the floor, but must be held closed at all times, I have even seen women holding it closed with their mouths because their hands were full.
In Herat Afghan men would not shake my hand. In fact, many of them would not look at me at all or even acknowledge my presence. I know that this is a sign of respect in their culture, but it is difficult to be treated as invisible. Interestingly when I held focus groups with Afghan men, they did not greet me, but were happy to talk to me through a translator and even have eye contact during the discussion, but when we said goodbye, many of them again ignored me.
When I got back to Kabul, I went to the craft market that is held at the military base (as the military are not allowed to walk around Kabul and go to the markets). I jumped when people brushed past me and touched me in the bustle of the market and realized in that moment that no one had brushed up against me at all in my time in Afghanistan as Afghan men do not do touch women, not even brushing past foreign women in crowds. Not only is it disrespectful to the woman, but the man would also be chastised. Which is why I was completely creeped out when entering the airport and the guard who checked my ticket made a point of touching my fingers as he handed me back my ticket and brushed up against me as I walked through the door. It is funny how elsewhere the same action would have had no motive behind it and probably would have gone unnoticed by me.
I struggle with being a woman in this society, but at the same time it fascinates me. I want to push the mark and provide a positive example as I try to do when I am in Africa, but I am not sure that I know how. In Africa I know that I stick out as a professional woman and I try to be a positive example, but I also try to gain respect by being conservative and not drinking unless I am with other expats, wearing conservative clothes (no shorts), and avoiding conversations about the fact that I live alone in DC. But here my idea of being conservative is unacceptably risqué and even their idea of being liberal is too conservative for my beliefs. Trying to balance cultural sensitivity with my own feminist ways is a balancing act that I have yet to learn. Maybe on trip three I will get the hang of it.
Rotating Bar
No, I am not talking about the Space Needle rotating restaurant, but rather the Herat expat community weekly bar held on Thursday evenings (as Friday is the day off) that rotates between different organizations. On my last night in Herat I was a lucky guest of one of our partner organizations and gained entry into the exclusive event and insight into the main social activity of the week for the expats of Herat.
Afghanis, and especially Afghan women, are not supposed to drink, but the mayor of Herat makes a special exemption for expats and allows this event to take place on the condition that there are absolutely no Afghans present. It was a fun evening meeting the characters of Herat and getting to know my colleagues in the partner organization a little better. I have not laughed so much in a long time.
I left Herat the following morning with a slight hang over (on two G&Ts – I’m a light weight), but suffering more from sleep deprivation. The flight from Herat to Kabul had no exact departure time – I was supposed to call the ticket office at 8am and ask for the reporting time. Instead, my alarm went off at 8am, I snoozed it, and two minutes later, the country director from the NGO that was hosting me was knocking on my door. Departure time was 9:30am. I jumped out of bed, threw my things in my suitcase and headed for the door. As I approached the gate of the compound, I realized that something was not right – I had no headscarf. It is amazing how quickly you get used to feeling naked when not wearing a headscarf. The problem was that I had packed the scarf and my suitcase was already in the car beyond the gate where I could not go with a bare head. I had to ask a male expat colleague to go out the gate and into my suitcase to bring me my scarf so I could walk the 10 ft to the car. If I hadn’t found my scarf, I guess I would have had an original excuse for missing my plane!
Afghanis, and especially Afghan women, are not supposed to drink, but the mayor of Herat makes a special exemption for expats and allows this event to take place on the condition that there are absolutely no Afghans present. It was a fun evening meeting the characters of Herat and getting to know my colleagues in the partner organization a little better. I have not laughed so much in a long time.
I left Herat the following morning with a slight hang over (on two G&Ts – I’m a light weight), but suffering more from sleep deprivation. The flight from Herat to Kabul had no exact departure time – I was supposed to call the ticket office at 8am and ask for the reporting time. Instead, my alarm went off at 8am, I snoozed it, and two minutes later, the country director from the NGO that was hosting me was knocking on my door. Departure time was 9:30am. I jumped out of bed, threw my things in my suitcase and headed for the door. As I approached the gate of the compound, I realized that something was not right – I had no headscarf. It is amazing how quickly you get used to feeling naked when not wearing a headscarf. The problem was that I had packed the scarf and my suitcase was already in the car beyond the gate where I could not go with a bare head. I had to ask a male expat colleague to go out the gate and into my suitcase to bring me my scarf so I could walk the 10 ft to the car. If I hadn’t found my scarf, I guess I would have had an original excuse for missing my plane!
Iran
Herat is around 100 km from the border with Iran and while the people are culturally indistinct, the economies are certainly distinct but deeply interconnected. In Herat there is a deep resentment of the Iranians and a strong belief that Iran is dumping products (selling products at below market value) in the Herat market (just as Afghans in Jalalabad in the East believe that Pakistan is dumping products there).
One trader provided me with a concrete example. There is an ice cream factory in Herat that produces good quality ice cream. It sells for 5 Afghanis (the local currency, abbreviated Afs) each. There is an Iranian ice cream that is imported and sold in the Herat market that sells here for 4Afs each, but the trader said that same ice cream sells in Iran for 7Afs each. The only financial incentive for a business to do this is to cut prices and lose money in the short term in the hopes of putting the Herati ice cream factory out of business and then capturing that market; however the local belief in Herat is that this is subsidized by the Iranian government to prevent economic development in Afghanistan and cause political instability. While this may seem a little far fetched, it may not be. The Iranian economy depends heavily on water coming from Afghan rivers, water that will certainly be tapped for use in Afghanistan as Afghanistan develops, causing a reduction in supply to Iran. (See my entry on this from my trip last December.)
Another example of this same issue came from a flour miller. Bread is the staple food in the Afghan diet and so wheat is politically very important but imported flour is preferred to local flour because it is usually of higher quality. The flour miller told me that last year for one month, the Afghan government somehow enforced tariff collections on the border with Iran. The collection of tariffs on wheat increased the price of imported wheat in the Herat market and the local flour miller doubled his production within that month. While I am generally a proponent of free trade, I do believe that there are times when trade barriers can be justified. The US approach to supporting our agricultural sector is to grossly subsidize farmers (something the Afghan government will not be able to afford for a very long time), so why shouldn’t Afghans have tariff’s on imported wheat?
One trader provided me with a concrete example. There is an ice cream factory in Herat that produces good quality ice cream. It sells for 5 Afghanis (the local currency, abbreviated Afs) each. There is an Iranian ice cream that is imported and sold in the Herat market that sells here for 4Afs each, but the trader said that same ice cream sells in Iran for 7Afs each. The only financial incentive for a business to do this is to cut prices and lose money in the short term in the hopes of putting the Herati ice cream factory out of business and then capturing that market; however the local belief in Herat is that this is subsidized by the Iranian government to prevent economic development in Afghanistan and cause political instability. While this may seem a little far fetched, it may not be. The Iranian economy depends heavily on water coming from Afghan rivers, water that will certainly be tapped for use in Afghanistan as Afghanistan develops, causing a reduction in supply to Iran. (See my entry on this from my trip last December.)
Another example of this same issue came from a flour miller. Bread is the staple food in the Afghan diet and so wheat is politically very important but imported flour is preferred to local flour because it is usually of higher quality. The flour miller told me that last year for one month, the Afghan government somehow enforced tariff collections on the border with Iran. The collection of tariffs on wheat increased the price of imported wheat in the Herat market and the local flour miller doubled his production within that month. While I am generally a proponent of free trade, I do believe that there are times when trade barriers can be justified. The US approach to supporting our agricultural sector is to grossly subsidize farmers (something the Afghan government will not be able to afford for a very long time), so why shouldn’t Afghans have tariff’s on imported wheat?
Herat
Herat is a city in the west of Afghanistan that has been inhabited for 2,500 years. It was and old Persian center for arts and learning and they even say that Marco Polo stopped off here for a night on his travels. I found the clean air and green trees a welcome change from the brown smoggy environment of Kabul.
I am staying in Herat for three days to gather information on almonds, grapes, wheat and other locally grown products for a new project. I am spending my days talking to farmers, traders, flour millers, dairy farmers, and others, which I find this the most fun part of my job - I couldn’t be happier than when sitting around with a translator and a group of traders (no more than 5 or it’s hard to control) in a market learning about what their market and their business. Traders always amaze me at their depth of understanding, intelligence and innovative thinking. This time was no exception.
One trader told me that he wished that the NGOs would buy their wheat in the local market to give away to poor households. There are many non-governmental organizations (NGOs or aid agencies) in Afghanistan that are giving out food to help Afghan households get back on their feet. While this seems like a good idea, in practice it doesn’t always work out that way. The food they give away is almost always imported from the US (for US NGOs). It is the accumulation of production from our government’s unsustainable subsidy of the agriculture sector. (The US government pays farms to grow crops that we do not need and cannot sell. 50% of American farmer’s income comes from government subsidies – but this is a discussion for another blog). The main problem is that the price that Afghan farmers get for their wheat declines drastically because people are getting wheat for free so they are unwilling to pay a high price for any additional wheat they may need (and many recipient households re-sell the wheat on the local market, creating an oversupply). This trader had an incredible insight into the market distortion being created by the donors and he also had the perfect solution. Amartya Sen won a Nobel prize for economics and one of his theories was that there are different types of famine. Famine from lack of food availability (usually from drought, pests or some other natural disaster) or famine from lack of access – lack of ability to buy the food that is readily available in the market (such as the Irish potato famine). Afghan households have food shortages not because there is no food in the market, but because they cannot buy it. The solution is to provide them with income (which USAID is doing through cash for work programs) and to buy wheat in the local market to distribute – which stimulates the market and boosts local incomes. This trader understood all this.
I am staying in Herat for three days to gather information on almonds, grapes, wheat and other locally grown products for a new project. I am spending my days talking to farmers, traders, flour millers, dairy farmers, and others, which I find this the most fun part of my job - I couldn’t be happier than when sitting around with a translator and a group of traders (no more than 5 or it’s hard to control) in a market learning about what their market and their business. Traders always amaze me at their depth of understanding, intelligence and innovative thinking. This time was no exception.
One trader told me that he wished that the NGOs would buy their wheat in the local market to give away to poor households. There are many non-governmental organizations (NGOs or aid agencies) in Afghanistan that are giving out food to help Afghan households get back on their feet. While this seems like a good idea, in practice it doesn’t always work out that way. The food they give away is almost always imported from the US (for US NGOs). It is the accumulation of production from our government’s unsustainable subsidy of the agriculture sector. (The US government pays farms to grow crops that we do not need and cannot sell. 50% of American farmer’s income comes from government subsidies – but this is a discussion for another blog). The main problem is that the price that Afghan farmers get for their wheat declines drastically because people are getting wheat for free so they are unwilling to pay a high price for any additional wheat they may need (and many recipient households re-sell the wheat on the local market, creating an oversupply). This trader had an incredible insight into the market distortion being created by the donors and he also had the perfect solution. Amartya Sen won a Nobel prize for economics and one of his theories was that there are different types of famine. Famine from lack of food availability (usually from drought, pests or some other natural disaster) or famine from lack of access – lack of ability to buy the food that is readily available in the market (such as the Irish potato famine). Afghan households have food shortages not because there is no food in the market, but because they cannot buy it. The solution is to provide them with income (which USAID is doing through cash for work programs) and to buy wheat in the local market to distribute – which stimulates the market and boosts local incomes. This trader understood all this.
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