The Torch: Working with Afghan Elders

From of a post by an American National Guard trainer embedded with the ANA, at his blog AFGHANISTAN SHRUGGED:

Lord of the Flies
The Cougar MRAP [Canadian Army has them too] rumbles to a stop. The trailing dust cloud washes over the vehicle temporarily obscuring the outside world to us. The AC is broken and the group stuffed into the armored behemoth is sweating profusely, you can see it soaking through the sleeves and collars of our uniforms. Underneath our vest is worse. I feel it dripping down the back of my pants, not a pleasant feeling.

The gunner is the only one spared, he sits with his head out of the vehicle, a dangerous job, but at least you’re cooler. The one and half hour drive to this location was along a rocky, rutted, “road”; jolting us violently with every foot we move. The Cougars were designed for the paved roads of Iraq not the rock sewn trails of Afghanistan. I’m confident I’ll survive an IED but my back and kidneys may be destroyed by safety.

The purpose for us coming here is a shura an afghan term for gathering or meeting. This shura is honor of opening two schools in the area. Much has been made of the supposed destruction wrought by US forces in the towns and villages but very little is ever said about the good that’s been done.

Just in our operational area we’ve built four schools, numerous wells, water retention walls and various other projects. We’ve also treated over 700 cases in 9 months.

Today though we’ve come for the opening of the schools. We dismount from the vehicles, get security set and head to shura. As I walk across the field I see the school white washed and pristine. A snowball sitting in the brown dirt of the valley and its partner sits about 4 kilometers to the west; easily visible due to the contrast. Part of me wonder if that’s such a good idea as I’m positive it can be seen from the Pakistani mountains 5 k to the east. Easily within range of rockets.

We enter the school and meet the local elders. The elders are the staples of the community. We meet them in order of age and precedence. In the beginning I didn’t realize this but I’ve now become aware of the rigid hierarchy these introductions follow. I shake hands with about 20 older looking men.

Older looking is the correct term here. My internal American age estimator isn’t calibrated for Afghanistan. Several times I’ve met people I thought were 60 years plus and it turns out they were my age 39. It’s a hard knock life here.

Post introductions we tour the school. Entering each classroom and seeing the desks, books, pens and pencils. There’s a small select group of students here, large gatherings are discouraged for security reasons. The ACM often IED them or use suicide bombers. The reverence with which the Afghans treat the school is amazing.

The small group reaches the final room where sitting mats are spread on the concrete floor shaped in a U. It’s packed with the ubiquitous flies found everywhere in Afghanistan and smells of diesel the fuel used to cut the paint. If you have a weak stomach Afghanistan is not the place for you.

I’m placed at the head with the oldest elder. What many Americans fail to realize is that just by being an American soldier you’re honored and revered, that’s why any form of disrespect is such a crushing blow to the Afghans. The men you thought could do no wrong have now insulted you, that’s hard to take for anyone.

We sit down and the senior elder begins to speak. The speaking order is very important too. You speak in the order of your importance. Generally, I’m given the second position. At the beginning of my tour I usually spoke toward the end or at the end.

Now, here’s a little more insight to American vs Afghan ways. Afghans are verbose and like to talk; I mean they really like to talk. So a shura can go for a long time. You’re expected to speak even if you feel that everything’s been said. In America we strive for short concise meetings. In Afghanistan it’s as if the sheer amount of talking wills the things to happen. The more talking the more likely it will happen...
After lunch we pose for pictures. Again this is a hierarchy, the most important elders get their picture taken with me first. Yes, all of the pictures have me in them. You would think I was the President of the US and not just some dumb ground pounder. They all want a picture with me. This goes on for about 20 minutes and I’m quickly smiled out...