Recently returned from a New Zealand Provincial Reconstruction Team rotation in Afghanistan, Major Syd Dewes gives an account of a day in a local village.
Today I visited Baghulak, a very poor village of about 500 people which is nestled in a mountain valley that’s isolated for six months of the year. I had been to Baghulak twice before, but today was the first time I was able to reach the village since winter.
I was meeting the Head of Shura (village head man). Down a steep dirt pathway, past some donkeys, through a compound gateway, around stacks of stored cut grass and past rows of ‘fuel cakes’ (dried animal dung); I eventually reached his mud home. The accompanying faint odour (not in any way offensive) confirmed for me we were in quarters above the animal stalls.
A dozen or so menfolk followed me in and we sat with backs to the walls, on simple but comfortable mats of thick woven Geep (Afghan sheep). I tried to settle into the space that was reserved for me. My combat vest, with all its ammunition pouches, and a rifle still slung across my body, made for uncomfortable sitting. I soon dispensed with caution and removed it, to the knowing nods of my hosts.
Surrounded by these local menfolk I felt at ease in this room – a bit like being on a marae back on the East Coast. The situation, they explained, was simple but dire: These people needed our assistance to develop a spring well so they could irrigate their crops this summer otherwise they would have to start leaving the land of their forefathers (and the fathers before them) for a very uncertain future.
All conversation focused on the much needed water and they were looking to the NZ Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) as their last and only hope.
I was trying to develop and evaluate a course of action to provide immediate, meaningful, and sustainable assistance to these people. I was careful not to say something that would give them false hope but I also felt the need to give them some hope. I chose to compromise and told them I would convey their situation to Governor Sorabi as a matter of urgency.
Their plight left me with an uncanny feeling when it came time to leave. As I drove away I felt drained, and sat quietly while we bounced our way down the mountain pass. As I mulled over the options to help I took some comfort in the village name, Baghulak, and the thought that maybe, just maybe, there is a ‘Bag-of-luck’ in store for them.
That was when I made my second decision of the meeting, and said aloud, to no one in particular, “Righto, that’s it ... we have some serious work to do!”
The village did get its water well and spring well repaired by the next NZPRT rotation.
To read the full version of this story, and others from our people on overseas deployments visit the 'Feature Stories' section of the website.