Somewhere on the road to Kabul through Logar province
I drove through Logar province on my way back from Gardez a couple of weeks ago, where I had gone to see my old friends and retrieve my cat. It felt like going home, but strangely it wasn’t heartbreaking to leave this second time around as it’s so close and I know I’ll be going back there soon enough.
Between you and me, I do not like Logar one little bit. A foreboding heavy atmosphere permeates the place, particularly the stretch of road past Logar’s bustling provincial capital Pul-e-Alam towards Kabul. Everything goes eerily quiet here, and despite Spring’s efforts to bring new life to the place, with trees suddenly erupting in a sea of pale green against an otherwise brownish landscape, I’ll bet the birds don’t even sing on this particular stretch of road.
This area of the province has always been dodgy and is noticeably more conservative than other areas. Rather sinisterly, road signs with the names of districts written in Roman letters have been vandalized, letters sprayed over with black graffiti. This isn’t Logar’s rebellious youth expressing themselves through street art; rather it symbolizes a darker, more sinister protest against foreign presence in the country, demonstrated all too well in 2008 when a car driving four IRC staff was ambushed and gunned down in Kolandar district, killing the Afghan driver and three female Western aid workers.
Pul-e-Alam, Logar’s capital, is different, at least on the surface. Of particular note as you drive through the town, is the bazaar, which is always bustling with people (men that is. I don’t think I have ever seen a woman in Logar). Dozens of makeshift carts on wheels jostle side by side, brimming with foaming cauliflowers, pyramids of carrots, radishes, mandarines, onions, peppers, potatoes – you name it, Pul-e-Alam’s vegetable and fruit market seems to have it. As you enter the town from the Tira Pass end in the South (where mountains separate Paktia from Logar), large Ministry of Health billboards depicting women (drawings, not photos) getting vaccinations stand proudly as hopeful reminders of modernization creeping into this somewhat conservative province. Giant Roshan and Etisalat posters tower above the townsfolk, who weave their way through the scores of Corollas buzzing up and down the main road. There is street lighting in the provincial capital and the main road is exceptionally well tarmac-ed. This place has changed a lot since I first drove through here in 2004. Progress is being made.
……
Along with the rest of the international community here it seems, I’ve recently been working on the hot topic of the day, reconciliation and reintegration, two terms being bandied about somewhat interchangeably. The organization I am now working for put together a large jirga in Paktia at the beginning of last week, inviting tribal elders from all over Loya Paktia (Khost, Paktia and Paktika). About 300 people turned up, and although I didn’t attend the jirga myself, my colleagues were able to carry out approximately 40 individual interviews among the participants.
Having now gone through all the interviews, and based on everything I’ve been told by people these past eighteen months or so in the Southeast, I would love to say I’m optimistic about this whole thing; but I’m cynical, because once again people’s expectations are going to be raised and then dashed.
Reconciliation in the Southeast is an elusive idea, another project hastily being pushed on people, sponsored by foreigners in order to expedite their own withdrawal, rather than having any genuine commitment to ensuring a long-term sustainable peace. People in this region have always felt left out of any meaningful political process taking place in the country - and whilst most view the idea of reconciliation as a good and necessary one at this juncture, tangible changes to people’s lives will be negligible. Local government is weak and not seen as a legitimate power-brokering body. If this time around (see failed PTS program) the initiative receives the support, resources and political backing it should have had years ago, the problem remains that government is still corrupt and people are still poor and enduring botched military operations. Why should anyone see next month’s ‘peace jirga’ as anything other than an empty gesture, and one which won’t yield any long-term peace dividends or have a positive impact on their lives or the ever-worsening security situation in the region?
I’m in the middle of a three-day conference at the moment, organized by the National Centre for Policy Research. It’s an excellent initiative and the organizers have brought together some great participants. One of them, Sima Samar from the Independent Human Rights Commission, gave a very lucid talk highlighting the importance of trust between the people and the government, without which, she said, there could be no genuine peace process.
Another participant pointed out that political goals are often short-term ones – yet this is precisely what the Americans are looking for now, a political deal so they can withdraw without losing face. It all sounds pretty hollow from here. A representative from Khost province asked angrily what the point of a national jirga was when it wasn’t being honestly pursued and when the Afghan people hadn’t been consulted.
The last day of the conference is tomorrow, but an observation I will make at this point is that of all the speakers, the most eloquent and outspoken advocates for peace, who have repeatedly emphasized the importance of engaging in an honest process of restorative justice and holding perpetrators of past crimes to account (because without justice there can never be peace in Afghanistan, they say), have been female participants. Hearing Afghan women stand up and speak with such determination and confidence is rather awe-inspiring.
I rarely ever saw any Afghan women in Gardez or Khost; that’s not to say there aren’t brave women there ready to stand up and defend their rights, there are - but they are few and far between. Kabul on the other hand is a vibrant place. You get the impression that real change is possible and is happening. The country’s future is in the hands of a new confident generation, and it’s wonderful to witness. I doubt next month’s jirga will be particularly meaningful, but one day, these young people will lead their own peace process, on their terms.
