Home Sweet Home

There is one last journal to be written before we bring this blog to a close. It’s the journal entry that lets everyone know that we are safe and sound and settled in our new life in Kelowna. It’s hard to believe that I last blogged at the end of April. For me, the last two months have been rich with reconnecting with friends at home in Kelowna and Vancouver, connecting with new kindred spirits, and sorting out every imaginable kind of paperwork. For Tariq, the last two months have been a time to finalize his semester at the American University of Afghanistan, spend some last quality time with his broad, close-knit family in Kabul, and to journey home via Sweden and Holland.

I arrived on Canadian soil on April 27th to be greeted by my parents at Vancouver airport. I spent the next three weeks in Kelowna getting my bearings. First tasks were to sort out our taxes and get on the public health system; to find health practitioners to support me in my last three months of pregnancy; find a new home and car; open up a big pile of backlogged mail and, as I joked to friends, ‘take care of bidness’. Looking back on that busy time, it was amazing how things fell into place. I found some great prenatal yoga classes. The biggest coup was to be accepted by the only midwifery practice in the Okanagan, something that I had hardly dared hoped to expect would happen given how late I applied. Just walking into the warm, friendly midwifery office with birth art on the walls and a large resource library felt like an embrace and assurance that I could finally have practitioners to support us through the birth process. I’ve noticed that in times of transition (and certainly in the summer), I always long to be in my hometown, Kelowna. It’s the place where I recharge my batteries, and get rejuvenated (if you have seen Chris Rock’s Pootie Tang, that’s ‘Re-JU-ven-ated’!).

At the end of May, I took a week-long seminar at Hollyhock, a retreat center on Cortes Island. The journey there was the fulfillment of a long-time dream to ride in a floatplane. I met my Corilair cessna aquaplane and its pilot Pete at a dock on the Vancouver Harbour seawall near the Westin Bayshore Hotel. Pete, 50-something, was dressed in DC sneakers and civvies - at first, I didn't recognize him as the pilot. The plane was sleek, red and white, delicate as a mosquito on its pontoons. Luckily for me, I was the only passenger, so I got to sit in the right-hand co-pilot's seat, with headphones on, and enjoy the panoramic view, sunlit with clear weather. The view of Vancouver, the Coast mountains, the Gulf Islands, was fantastic. The roar of the engine as we took off in the water was exhilarating! Pete was perhaps the most fabulous part of the trip. He talked about being a bush pilot, taxiing prawn up and down the coast; about his skateboard-making company; about being a seaplane mechanic; about how he saw thousands of dolphins in a pod one day off the northern tip of Vancouver Island; of his family. He said he is best friends with his wife, and best friends with his two sons, one of which is an extremely talented, if not professional, skateboarder. I asked him if he worried about his son's sport. "Worry is a wasted emotion," he replied. Instead, he talked about how proud he was of his son, about how life was what you made it, about how happy and content he was with his family and his world. It inspired the heck out of me, and was a fabulous introduction to my retreat at Hollyhock.

At Hollyhock, the peacefulness and calm in the air was palpable. The quiet was like some kind of music. I am so glad I arranged for this time away to reflect on what Afghanistan meant for me, for my life and my life-work; to reflect on how far Tariq and I have come together and what aspirations I have for our next phase as new parents; and to reflect on the miracle of Twinkle and to prepare the space in my heart where he or she will live forever. While at Hollyhock, I took a compassionate communication seminar (based on Marshall Rosenberg’s book ‘Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life’) and found in it a model that I want to work with in all my relationships and as a parent. What a gift to find it and explore it at this special time. The seminar demanded that I do some inner work, both in the group setting and on my own time. The group itself was diverse and although it was not always smooth, everyone did engage with the material fully and I’m sure we all took something life-changing away from it. When not in session, I took the opportunity to go kayaking, meditate in the early mornings, do yoga, try cranial-sacral therapy, have an oyster BBQ and establish some amazing friendships with women who were also there on retreat.

After Hollyhock, I spent a week visiting with good friends in Vancouver, and working to put the finishing touches on my training curriculum deliverables for a follow-up consultancy with PDT-Afghanistan. Friends universally asked me if I felt a ‘culture-shock’ in returning back to Canada; I replied to everyone: “Are you kidding? It was a shock to live in Afghanistan. I am delighted to be back in Canada!!” I felt happy to walk around in capris, enjoy men and women in summer dress walking around and working out, spend time walking outdoors and contentedly indulging in all the burgers and ice cream my heart desired. Although it was good for me to have my time to organize and connect, I was really missing Tariq by early June. With great anticipation, Tariq’s dad and sister and I went to meet him at Vancouver airport on June 4th. We waited tensely for three hours after his plane landed, still not seeing him come through the gates at the international terminal. I suspected he had been held up in immigration – and when he finally did come to meet us, this turned out to be true! He had been interrogated by CSIS as well as customs and the RCMP, his clothing checked, all of his belongings searched (including the viewing of a few video-tapes he had with him in his bag). What a way to be welcomed back! So much for a sense of gratitude for assisting the Canadian mission in Afghanistan – more like, racial profiling and being treated like a suspected terrorist. I’m not sure who was fuming more – Tariq or myself.

Tariq regaled us with the stories of his trip in Europe. He enjoyed Sweden, where he visited his long-time close friend Farouk and Farouk’s family. He fell in love with Farouk’s kids, especially Farouk’s little daughter (he is such a kid magnet!). Farouk and his family live in a rural area outside of Gothenburg, and much of their touring around was through lovely green countryside - with frequent stops for ice cream. Next, Tariq flew to Amsterdam and was greeted there by his cousin Nadia and her family. They live near the Hague in Holland, and Tariq’s four days there were spent sight-seeing and catching up with family. He reported that Holland was a rather brash introduction to the extremes of western liberalism after 15 months in Afghanistan: apparently free love in public parks and the red light district were a little unsettling after the gender and sexual conservatism of Kabul. All in all, though, he really enjoyed the chance to see family and friends that he had not connected with in over 15 years and to rekindle these important relationships.

It was good that Tariq had a chance to relax in Europe because I put him right to work the day after he arrived (I thought it only humane to give him at least 24 hours to begin the process of recovering from jetlag). He took charge of putting the finishing repair touches on our newly purchased 2007 Honda Civic, and joined me in taking some maternity photos for our nursery. And then the move of our belongings from Surrey to Kelowna (which we did in two trips)… in the midst of my Braxton-Hicks contractions, I unpacked our boxes to set up the new place. It was kind of fun to see our old belongings after such a long time, but I was surprised by how ‘student-esque’ they were. It brought back memories of our life before we went to Afghanistan, when we were working long hours to pay off student debt and living in Tariq’s parents’ small in-law suite in Surrey. Happily, it is time for something new. Having scoped out the furniture scene in my previous weeks in Kelowna, it was actually quite easy for us to find the new items we needed: a red leather couch & chair set, complementary brown leather couch, dark chestnut dining room table & chairs, and a dark sleigh bed frame and matching vanity dresser. We are both looking forward to the delivery of our new furniture at the end of this week. It will nicely complement the two Afghan carpets we brought back with us. Setting up our furniture will be the grand finale to the insatiable ‘nesting’ syndrome that I’ve been feeling for months. Luckily we have lovely high ceilings, a skylight, and big picture windows with a gorgeous view of the Okanagan hills in our new place. A good thing, too, because I’ll be spending a lot of time here over the next six months!

The last week has been happy and relaxed. In between Tariq’s job-hunting, we’ve fit in some trips to the beach, to the Kettle Valley hiking trail with its historic rail trestles, and have spent some time boating on Okanagan Lake. I’m happy to be back to prenatal yoga, with the baby’s nursery mostly set-up, and doing my baby reading. It’s hard to believe that in six weeks (or less!) we’ll have a new little member of the family. I’m so thankful that we are both safe and healthy here, the richer for the time we spent adventuring in Afghanistan.

As I was unpacking the boxes we shipped from Kabul, I came across the following journal entry I wrote while leaving: "I feel like I spent much of my time in Afghanistan behind walls and the physical walls were nothing compared to the emotional barriers I built around me. Not that I judge myself, it was my way to adapt and cope...in Afghanistan, I touched something in my inner self that can help guide me to the place I want to be: without fear... Afghanistan challenged the hell out of me and not in ways that I expected. I came up against some very hard places...within myself, with Tariq, with work. I have this sense that Tariq and I are growing into a future that neither of us previously anticipated - that somehow, Afghanistan has reoriented us irrevocably."

I am amazed by the frankness of this statement of feeling and yet it resonates so truthfully. There was so much growing that I did while in Afghanistan, and yet it is only the beginning of a lifetime of growth ahead of us. And now it will be the three of us growing together – on the new adventure that awaits us.

Watering the Ethnic Roots

With every visit, I was assured that if I could stay longer, there would be so many other distinctive things to see and do. So it is with the sensation of a secret treasure only partially uncovered that I am leaving Germany. I am so delighted to have had this opportunity to explore my ethnic roots here, meet family, and get a firsthand experience of the country and culture of my grandparents. Funny that it took me until my early 30s to do so, but I'm glad I have made this discovery before little Twinkle (our endearment for the baby) is born. There is so much I look forward to sharing with him or her!

All things considering, I feel very happy with my vacation and also happy to be going home. The time has come to take care of business and get ready for the baby in earnest. I think for a little while it's going to feel very weird to be "home" in Kelowna, with no other place to go, no other final destination. I wonder how I will feel about settling there for awhile? I have been joking - with a strain of seriousness - that I'm in deep denial about just how radically my life is going to change when the little package arrives. It will be good to turn my attention now to getting everything in order for the baby and taking some time to feel healthy, active and in shape again. Happily, even after one week of glorious freedom and walking around, I already feel miles better than I did the day I left Kabul. I miss Tariq already but I'm happy he is finishing his semester of English studies in Kabul. It won't be long until he's home again too and he can be a part of getting our nest together.

High Culture in Berlin

My two days in Berlin were defined by great poppyseed cakes, world-class museums and galleries, and a riveting production of Mozart's Don Giovanni opera in arguably the best opera house in the world. My Deutsche Bahn train pulled into Berlin's Ostbahnhof a few minutes before midnight. I had about 10 crazy minutes of looking around for my old friend Daniel from the University of Victoria before I saw his friendly face. I had no idea what to expect about Berlin - I really had never seen pictures and had some unexplainable preconception of an edgy big city that was slightly sinister. It turned out to be nothing of the kind - rather a sprawling, modern urban landscape with great, tree-lined Napoleonic boulevards that felt very safe and clean.

My friend Daniel has a sunny, paper-strewn flat in a Turkish neighborhood of the city. He is in the final stages of a PhD dissertation on corporate responsibility and civil society in Europe; his mother institution is Cornell University in Ithaca, New York with research periods in Berlin. Our first day exploring Berlin took us to the BundesTag and complex of German parliament buildings. A cool non-stop procession of parliamentarians in black Mercedes and BMWs threaded through our walking tour. I reveled in the wonderful combination of clean, geometric modernist buildings and old heritage monuments. We had a coffee near the Brandenburg Gate, and I marveled at the classical Greek and Roman statues adorning the Gate and other public buildings. We visited the Holocaust Memorial, an expanse of grey cement blocks of different heights covering many city blocks.

Daniel took me to the famous Pergamonmuseum, and we spent a few lovely hours exploring their Classical exhibit, the Syrian exhibit and the wonderful Museum of Islamic Art. The latter was particularly impressive and timely: after spending the last year amidst the desolation and fundamentalism of Afghanistan's current milieu, it was great to see a profile of Islamic society in a richer and more exploratory age. I particularly appreciated rich paintings from the 16th century combining Christian and Islamic icons, scripts and motifs: a celebration of the contributions of both great religions and proof that the current tendency to divisiveness is not the only viable option.

After the museum, we stopped at an Italian restaurant for some gorgonzola cream pasta (amazing!) and made our way to the Berlin Staatsoper to see Mozart's Don Giovanni opera. It was my big wish to see an opera in Berlin and we just managed to obtain two tickets from a last-minute cancellation. The opera house (see picture) itself was a work of art, and I was surprised that it was a small, intimate space and our seats afforded an exceptional view of the stage. It was three and a half splendid hours of musical bliss. I'm not sure why, but I discovered opera in Kabul by downloading it from the internet and listening to it on my ipod during many cooped-up weekends when I was unable to leave the house. And I love Italian, so listening to Italian singing was just heaven. The producer had a modernist interpretation of the set and costumes, and I'm sure the fabulous gowns that the women were wearing must have been Guccis and Pradas...they were gorgeous in various shades of white and black. The plot was sensual, dramatic and certain parts of the melody spine-tinglingly glorious. It was a cultural highlight that I will never forget!

A leisurely tour through the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin was the highlight of my second day. The gallery houses Botticelli, Rafael, Caravaggio, Rembrandt and Rubens originals and paintings from other fine Dutch painters. I'm not as intrigued by 16th century Dutch productions, but prefer the Florentine artists like Botticelli. My overall impressions were that women wore great clothes back in the day, and that I'd love to revive some of the more crazy aristocratic fashions. Clearly the female ideal of beauty from the 14th to 16th centuries was pre tanning salons, as evidenced by the white-skinned, thick-thighed and small-breasted beauties of the day. Probably because I'm pregnant, I was unusually attracted to the myriad representations of the Madonna and child. I loved the Madonna faces but found most depictions of baby Jesus pretty terrible - he looks either too fat or too skinny for a normal baby and has a very old face in most pictures! The highlight was Botticelli's Venus with her beautiful golden hair and gentle face.

Through my time in Berlin, it became very clear to me the German love of the classical age. So it was pretty normal for me to love all things Italian after all! Like all my other destinations in Germany and Prague, I felt I could have stayed much longer in Berlin to see more of what the city had to offer. It was such a brief glimpse, but even with such a short visit I felt tremendously satisfied by the culture of Berlin.

Prague, Lovely City of Spires (and Sausages)

The overnight train from Freiburg to Prague was comfortable, although I was too shy to turn on the light (and so potentially disturb the German woman that shared my sleeping compartment) to actually figure out how to bring down the long seat into a bed. But I made do, sleeping tightly huddled so as to avoid falling off. After a lovely journey along the meandering Vltava River adorned with castles and manses, the train pulled into sun-kissed Prague early in the morning. My heart picked up its pace as I was about to meet my 21 year old cousin Christina (Hans and Rita's daughter) for the first time.

There she was on the platform, this beautiful vision with windswept brown hair, a red corduroy skirt and black tights. We spent two days exploring the wonders of Prague arm in arm and I got a chance to know my cousin: a smart, social med student with a penchant to party. Prague is exceptional: it is like an expansive theatrical set of magnificent, voluptuous buildings with monuments at every corner. With just over a million people, Prague is not as large as it seems. Many of the monuments come from the 14th century during the reign of Charles IV, and the Soviet occupation after World War II until the early 90s. Prague became the new capital after the split of Czechoslovakia in 1993.

While Christina dashed off to attend a biochemistry lecture, I zealously set off to conquer the heart of the city by foot. This was actually very ambitious given that I haven't walked more than 200 meters for the last year in Afghanistan and my feet were definitely paying the price by the end of the visit! Well, I had complained endlessly about my desire to walk in Afghanistan to Tariq, and walk I did. My first point of reference was the National Museum, an imposing, soot-blackened edifice on Wenceslas Square. The street was a hive of slavic faces and the staccato of Czech spoken among the crowds. Mingled in were some Roma gypsies in their homespun clothing. There were also hordes of European tourists as well; obviously Prague is a much-loved tourist destination in Europe.

Avidly shopping all along the way, I made my way to statuesque Saint Charles Bridge and then the breathtaking Old Town Square. It is difficult for me to adequately describe either the bridge or the square - I've never seen anything like them anywhere. There is a vast, royal sense of spaciousness and grandeur to both and their heritage and beauty unparalleled. It was a privilege to experience them in person. I stopped at a nearby stand and for 60 crowns (about $3.50) bought the biggest hot-dog I've ever seen with this amazing, spicy sausage, mustard and sauerkraut. It was delicious.

Later that evening, Christina organized a dinner at an Italian pizzeria in the Old Town Square with her med school group of friends. As they discussed the fine points of the dissection of cadavers, I tried to focus instead on the mediterranean flavors. The next day, Christina took me to the Prague Castle, whose claim to fame is that it is the largest continuous castle complex in the world. Both the gardens and buildings were exceptional - at this point, I felt so saturated by exceptional buildings that I could barely register another monument with due appreciation. There were also some Soviet contributions to the built environment - massive, foreboding structures that seemed intent to convey brute power. It sounds stereotypical, but true to my experience.

We walked arm in arm through the very chic neighborhood that encircles the Castle, stopping at a bakery along the way, and along the Vltava River to the Saint Charles Bridge. After a trot up the 138 steps of the St. Charles Bridge Tower (at which point my feet were beyond burning, not to mention the state of my lungs), we enjoyed a magnificent view of the river, the castle and the thousand spires of metropolitan Prague. It must be one of the nicest places to kiss in the entire world, and I blew a kiss to Tariq at the very top and made a wish that it would reach him in Kabul. Christina reminds me of my friend Antonella: she loves to travel, loves everything Italian, loves people, is generous and full of life.

I had an opportunity to ask her some questions to piece together a little more of the family history. Apparently her grandmother never told my (our) grandfather about her baby, Hans. Hans found out as a teenager that he had a different father than his mother's husband, and later in life hired a detective to find my family in Canada. How fascinating - I had had no idea. I feel so lucky to discover my new family members after all this time. I have so much in common with Mira and Christina and I look forward to keeping in touch with them.

Boutiques and Baguettes of Freiburg

Freiburg, perched on the edge of the Black Forest in southern Germany, is an idyllic little community and university town. And a propos, I arrived in the Freiburg Hauptbanhof to visit my cousin Helen and her partner Marian (who is a man - Marian is a masculine name in Germany) who are university students there for a couple of days. Freiburg's mood was overcast and rainy for the duration of my visit but that didn't stop me from thoroughly exploring...mainly by teetering through the cobblestone streets on foot.

Helen and Marian are lovely - they are two peas in a pod, both studying to be teachers at Education University (the "PH") in Freiburg. It has been a decade since I spent time with Helen and she has become this fabulous, sophisticated (but not so much so to avoid caving in to my silly sense of humour) young woman. While Helen and Marian went duly to class, my first day alone in Freiburg was an orgy of boutique shopping and German pastries. I made a beeline for the first poppyseed cake (my all-time favorite) that I saw, and found the most fabulous red suede jacket... of course I can't wear it now but I joked with Helen that it would be my prime incentive for getting fit again after the baby. I checked out the Augustiner museum to see some religious art and a Modern Art museum, which was just weird. It wasn't so much the galleries that were impressive, it was the thrill of having no agenda and the ability to wander around decadently and spend a rainy afternoon pondering the meaning of art and life.

Overall, I am loving the German sense of bold color, form, and natural elements. Eating a brie sandwhich on great bread while sitting on a modernist block of hewn natural wood in a cafe feels so simple and yet so rich. Germans evidently have a passion for crazy frames on their glasses in wild shapes and colors, and all of them look so intelligent. Have I mentioned that I'm convinced that Germans make the best bread in the world? The Atkins program could never take off here. My stay in Freiburg came to an end too quickly, and all too soon Helen was seeing me off at the Hauptbanhof as I boarded my overnight train to Prague.

Newfound Family Ties in Laupheim

About a decade ago, although it doesn't feel that long ago, my father discovered that he had a half-brother in Germany. Unbeknownst to the family, my grandfather had had a relationship with a German woman, and they had conceived a son. My first mission in Germany was to meet my uncle Hans and his family and it was with great excitement that I got off my first ICE train in Ulm to see them for the first time! I picked out Hans right away - he looks very similar to my grandfather, although very tall like my dad. The whole family is wonderful. Hans works as an executive at Airbus, which has a large plant in the small town of Laupheim.

He and his wife Rita and children Mira (17) and Jonas (14) took me to the Ulm Munster - the tallest Gothic cathedral in Europe - and through a charming quarter of art shops and boutique hotels on the banks of the Danau River called the Fischplatz. They spoiled me with a raclette barbeque and much love and kindness.

It was here that I could feel the much-welcome process of "decompressing" from the anxiety of Afghanistan begin. In Kabul, with my height, light face and different clothes, I stick out like a sore thumb. By organizational protocol, I need to be driven everywhere and cannot walk on the streets. Here, it felt so refreshing to be independent again, anonymous in the crowd, mistress of my own destiny. In Germany, I feel so at home. Everything is clean, well-organized, and there is good coffee everywhere. Ahhhh...just what the doctor ordered. Hans and Rita took me through Laupheim to see the local castle and baroque cathedral, but the real highlight was snuggling in bed with my cousin Mira, watching Das Parfum together and giggling about naughty or silly German idioms. She is a karate champ - amazing how much we have in common.

Commercial Blitz through Dubai

I am knackered again, after a wild commercial blitz through Dubai. I had a well-planned mission to visit the Ibn Battuta (or City Center) Mall and managed to park my baggage before catching a cab with another woman who was on my Kabul-Dubai flight. I successfully purchased a new MacBook and a Canon EOS 450D digital SLR camera, both much long-awaited acquisitions. After working with many Mac-using colleagues and being amazed at the speed and performance of their computers, I decided to make the move. Now, I'm just going to need to figure out how to use my new laptop! And Tariq and I wanted to have a nice camera to shoot baby pictures on, so I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun with the Canon. I'm looking forward to having some time off of work to hopefully use not only to sleep and change diapers but to get back into the creative side of photography.

After Kabul, Dubai is overwhelming. I barely feel ready for the western world... so many people, so fast-paced, so many chain stores. But there is McDonalds and Baskin Robbins... I stopped at the former and ordered some chicken nuggets. Somehow just eating at McDonalds (Tariq's favorite vice) made him feel a little less far away. After sharing a cab back to the airport with a young executive from an elevator installation company that happened to be waiting in the long mall-line up with me, I checked in for my connecting flight to Bahrain and then Frankfurt.

Goodbye to Afghanistan

I'm at the Kabul airport, and I feel knackered. The last few days have been a non-stop barrage of errands, last-minute assignments and tearful goodbyes. It has been wonderful and exhausting. In the pit of my heart, I feel guilty about leaving. I have the freedom to come and go and those whom I have come to love and appreciate must stay no matter how the security situation evolves. Even though now is the right time: I'm big enough to tire easily and don't have access to good medical facilities should I have any urgent need of them. I'm very much looking forward to the safety of landing in Europe.

Before I left Kabul, I had a strong, unexplainable desire to visit Tariq's grandmother's grave. She's resting on a humble promontory with a lovely view of military hill and its old clay fort, overlooking the sprawl of low-lying homes built into the slope. Taimonie was enveloped in a haze of sun-kissed warmth. As I sat on the rectangular white marble box marking her grave, I could feel her friendly spirit. A single, jubilant red poppy poked out of the mound of earth in her grave-box. I felt this need for her to be close to her great grandchild before we left. I think she knew. At the airport, it was hard to say goodbye to Tariq's grandfather. All I could do was squeeze his gnarled, big hands with tenderness to convey my appreciation for his kindred spirit and his kindness to us throughout the past 15 months.

My goodbye gathering at Taverna, Kabul's lebanese restaurant, was fabulous. There was a collegial mix of Afghans and friends from all over the world, and the great felafels, tabouleh, dolmanthes, humous and baba ghanoush that had become staples over the last months. My friend Nadir smuggled in a bottle of Crown Royal to add to the festivities, which resulted in Tariq drunkenly blowing smoke-rings from a sheesha pipe at the end of the evening. Under the soft strawberry scent of the hookah, we girls yakked and enjoyed a most amazing chocolate cake with a big letter "B" in rainbow sprinkles and two sparklers as big as rocket launchers.

The national staff at Peace Dividend Trust also gave me a warm and sad seeing-off. On my second last day of work, my training assistant Rawaj organized a feast at his family home and his mothers were working all morning to make a delicious miscellany of Afghan favorites: fried chicken, kabouli palau (long-grained rice adorned with cooked, shredded carrot, raisins, pistachios and almonds and flavored with chunks of lamb), shorwa soup and yogurt, sabsi spinach and others. I had passed on my wish to the group to see them do some real Afghan dancing, and so all the young men brought cassette tapes with their favorite songs and danced. It was great!

The festivities continued the next day - my last day in the office. When I came to the office, all the national staff were wearing traditional shalwar kameez and some even their brilliant beaded traditional Afghan hats. They danced the traditional Pashtun Atan; one sang a solo of the hindi song "Never Say Goodbye"; and they presented me with a beautiful hand-embroidered kuchi dress that they had all pitched in to buy. It was a feast of love and camaraderie, and I felt proud of the work atmosphere that I had a part in creating.

My Country Director Shirine also held a wonderful goodbye dinner with some of my closest friends in Afghanistan. We savored the roast chicken with lemon and garlic, Tariq savored the port (apparently we have a shared love of port, which I just discovered) and my dear friend Kristi brought banana cake with an amazing cream cheese frosting. My last day in the country was spent saying goodbye to Tariq's extended family and sharing a last cup of tea. Through it all I felt so loved and appreciated - there were so many people with whom I formed a strong connection. I know I will have many great people to keep in touch with as they continue their adventures in Afghanistan.

New Baby in the Afghan Family

There’s some exciting news in the family that I have to share – Tariq’s cousin’s wife Fouzia just gave birth yesterday to a beautiful baby girl, weighing about 7 pounds! In Afghan culture, close family members gather at the new parents’ home to bring chocolates and wish congratulations. It seems a bit much for me – I’m not sure I’d want to receive a lot of visitors a few hours after the delivery process! But that’s the Afghan way. I’ve never seen such a brand new baby before and I was amazed by how fragile and tiny she was! In fact, when I held her in my arms, all swaddled in her blankets, I felt really nervous, not wanting to cause her any discomfort. Well I’ll have to get over that feeling really quickly, won’t I? The transition from the comfortable womb to this crazy old world is just amazing – it was so neat to be witness to that experience yesterday. Here’s a picture of the beautiful mum and her new baby girl.

[April 3, 2008] Grandpa made a visit to Fouzia and the new babe and, as is traditional in Afghanistan, gave the little girl a name. She is now Sitara, which means "star" in the Persian languages. What a beautiful little identity to grow in to! I am sure she will.

Clever Sonologists and CSTC-A

Time is marching on – somewhat slowly – as my eagerness to make the journey home grows! My major news of the week is that I found a great cheesecake at my favorite café in town, Chaila, I read Winterson’s The PowerBook and loved it, I’ve started to read The Book of Negroes and am loving it, I have watched two Clive Owen movies this week and I’m making progress on my online supply chain management course. The weather in Kabul is lovely but difficult to enjoy, except for catching a sunbeam behind a walled compound. The warm weather has also brought the microbes back out of their frozen slumber, and it took a couple of days in bed this week to remind me to continue to be more vigilant about what I eat again. Tariq has been enjoying his studies at the American University of Afghanistan, and since he has shown his boxing videos among his classmates, has acquired quite the following. He especially loves his writing teacher Sovino, and is currently getting prepared for a formal presentation this Sunday in front of his class.

Tariq and I went to CURE Hospital this week for the second doctor’s visit of my pregnancy (can you believe that?) and the ultrasound showed that the little kiddo is healthy and happy. Even though we told the sonologist we didn’t want to know the gender, both of us were scouring every inch of the screen to find a clue! The clever sonologist foiled our efforts and the gender remains a mystery. The kid has earned the nickname “Little Kickboxer” from my friends because of all the moving around that he or she is now doing!

Working life has been a bit chaotic these last weeks with many changes to our personnel and working environment. As with everything in Afghanistan, our co-renter the Afghan International Chamber of Commerce dissolved and decided to move out of our building with a week’s notice. A lot of effort went into finding us a new office location, and we’ve secured a lovely space in a relatively upscale building in downtown Shar-e-Nau, with floor to ceiling windows. Unfortunately I won’t get to work there, as the space will take several weeks to customize and furnish. In the meantime we’re working out of the conference room of a small local motel. On a very positive note, I gave a presentation on Peace Dividend Trust and local procurement at a CSTC-A vendor day conference this past Thursday. CSTC-A is a division of the US Military responsible to rebuild the Afghan National Security Forces (police, army, border guards) and stands for “Combined Security Transition Command Afghanistan”. The presentation was very well received by the military contracting officers and the hundreds of Afghan businessmen present. I was flooded with positive feedback and requests for more information after the conference closed. It felt especially great because it has been quite some time since I’ve been asked to speak for such a large group and I must admit I was nervous beforehand. This experience fuelled my desire to continue with speaking engagements at every opportunity. There were many interesting military characters at the conference, and the attached picture shows me with my Canadian Projects Director Ainsley, Colonel Victoria of the US Air Force, and an Economic Policy Analyst named Pat from the Pentagon (and freshly arrived from fieldwork in Iraq).

With three weeks to go, I’m busy wrapping up my life in Kabul at work, among friends, and at home. Since Tariq has been primarily looking after our dog Che these months, I handed the decision over to him about whether we should bring him home to Canada with us. Tariq decided that the dog should stay here because his grandpa wants to take care of him. Even though it will be hard to say goodbye, I think that this will be all for the best because Che is very large, powerful and unsocialized. He’s better off here and we have no doubts he’ll be very well taken care of by grandpa. I am so excited to travel to Germany for a week. The order and cultural charms of Europe will be balm to the soul after the long months here, and after that I have long walks and long swims in the spring air of Kelowna to look forward to. I’ll have just enough time to sort out a new living space and get ready for the big new arrival in our life! Tariq is planning to follow me home a month later after he finishes his semester at the university.