Summering in Kabul

I am in the middle of my next two blogs, neck deep in a strategy plan, moving homes and wham, a stomach bug hits. So, as I lay here in mild agony, I figure this is a good time to upload some pictures.

We became friends with a few brothers who own a farm in Paghmun Valley, right outside of Kabul. They grew-up in NYC but have come back to Afghanistan to run their family business. They take wonderful care of us and took us to their weekly picnic last Friday (the only day off of work). It was the closest I will ever get to feeling like I am in a Jane Austin novel. With guns of course.

I have been many places that value hospitality however, the Afghan brand is truly unrivaled. Being considered a guest in this country is a status that warrants incredible generosity. The benefits package includes a combination of security, protectiveness and, well, ensuring that our every need (and every need we think we may need) is produced in record time. From cold water to house cleaners to midnight snacks to armored cars. If we look parched cold water or hot tea is in our hands before we can even confirm if we are indeed thirsty. I have been sent flowers twice in two weeks. Last week because I scraped my foot while walking at the farm. Last night because it was my sixth wedding anniversary and I am away from home.

Though I still can’t put my finger on all of the nuances, Majdood (one of the brothers) and I were sitting on a roof one night having an intense conversation about the fragility of peace. We were making wish lists for Afghanistan’s future. We were picking dream candidates. We were drafting dream laws. We were mapping out a strategy for women’s health. We were dreaming out-loud for all those things every group of people should have. Finally I asked him how ‘we’ could make even a fraction of these glorious things happen. He turned to me and said that while he has many ideas, the fact that I used the word ‘we’ is what makes him sure that road would eventually materialize.

When embraced as a guest you are being invited to be part of a family. Though you are provided with things, the generosity is far from material. You are rewarded with conversation. You are rewarded with time. You are rewarded with loyalty. It isn’t that someone is doing something special for you as much as they are sharing themselves, their friends and their lives with you.

I came here to give of myself. Every hour I remain in Afghanistan I am getting back tenfold.