Where's Dara?

20 June 2007

Well, it is been an embarrassingly long while since I have posted onto my blog. Not for lack of desire. Problems with internet connections, utter exhaustion, and being overworked have thwarted my efforts.

Today, though, I am back in our provincial office, where the pace is a little slower and the internet connections a bit better. Plus, we had a little event that I thought I would write about: my Gender Assistant and I shocked our little compound in Fayzabad. How? We played volleyball.

When I came to visit in mid-April to investigate a mass grave (more on that later), the guys in the office had begun to play volleyball. The court was set up on the compound, and the drivers, guards, and substantive staff all played at 5 pm each day, weather permitting.

The volleyball court

On this visit, I was a spectator... and broke in my fancy dancy new camera. I must say, it was a lovely way to end a day--with laughs and hollers, rather than staring madly at a computer.

Our fearless security assistant in action

The competitive head of office blocking

Of course, this is Afghanistan, so there must be two things:

The requisite tea

and...

The spectator

In fayzabad, the mountains are always looking on as well.

On this trip to Fayzabad, I told Dominique, I was determined to play with 'the boys'--however 'scandalous' that would be. I wanted to play too. Harumph.

So, I packed my culturally appropriate clothes to do a culturally inappropriate act: the seemingly innocent act of playing a game of volleyball with my colleagues--co-ed.

And so, at 5 pm yesterday, I walked out onto the court with my long, light pink shirt from Pakistan, and my brown cargo pants along with my well worn sneakers (trainers for you Brits) ready to play--for the first time in 15 years.

The boys did not blink an eyelid. They were happy to play and just rolled with it--particularly my, um, skills. (let's just say I did not do my sex proud yesterday.)

At one point, Dominique and our Political Assistant laughed at me after I hit the ball (successfully, I might add). I asked what was up.

"You," Dominique said laughing, "close your eyes when you hit the ball." It's been 15 years.

Our security assistant decided that I was the weakest link on the team--not necessarily so. He would hit the ball and yell, "Dara!" Beaming with anticipation of me missing the hit. More often than not, I got it. Still, there were enough times that I did acrobatic moves and missed it to entertain everyone.

Towards the end of the 3 set match, the ball went over the the wall of the compound into the neighbors. The guard went to get the ball and came back empty handed. We were informed that the neighbor refused to return the ball. In fact, it turned out, about 6 balls had gone unreturned or been returned punctured. Not a nice neighbor. Of course, the boys had neglected to apologize to the neighbor and thank in with some small gesture... still, though, that behaviour was not called for!

"Dara," our Political Assistant said to me, "he is a bad person."

The boys produced another, dilapitated ball that after a few minutes of play had had its last play. We tried to get the ball back again--to no avail.

Meanwhile, my Gender Assistant said to me, "I am going to play when they come back with the ball."

This is a big thing in Afghanistan. Women do not play with men. Particularly Afghan women. It is shocking enough that I was playing, but huge that she wanted to play. It showed the level of comfort she had in the office, as well as her determination to establish her own rules.

This determination, and her confidence, has led her to become the 'leader' of the women in the office, which is no easy task. Being a women in Afghanistan, and a working woman, is a struggle. Snears, snickers, gossiping behind your back, crude words and insults lobbed at you, and the freezing out of meetings and work in which you should be involved... balanced with the desire to not create 'security concerns' for you or your family. It is not easy being a working woman in Afghanistan--and strong, vocal one. Add to that the weight of the other women's hardships on your shoulder, and you carry a tremendous burden. Coupled with a small child, a husband in Pakistan, and an ill parent and you find a woman with incredible strength of will.

And so, we come to the volleyball court in Fayzabad.

Today, she and I walked onto it, ready to play. She with a scarf wrapped around her head for appropriateness, and I with my pink shirt and cargo pants.

And we all had a blast!

The guys in Fayzabad office were great. She immediately was taken in as part of the team.

My Gender Assistant and her team

They immediately put her in to serve... and boy, does she have a strong serve! They kept her there. Eventually, my team figured that I might be good at serving too and threw me the ball (I was ok).

Me ready to serve

It soon became a battle of the serving women.

My Gender Assistant ready to serve

Me serving!

And another serve...

The game was quite intense today. 5 sets.

The action gets heavy at the net

More action at the net

My team won--little thanks to me,except for my serving. The Security Assistant still was targeting me, relatively unsuccessfully. And Dominique was sending all the difficult ones my way--at least that is what my Gender Assistant felt. I was improving my game--marginally. Still, we beat the other team. Victorious, and with only 1 ball over the wall.

At one point, my Gender Assistant asked, "Do you think that they are talking about me?"

"If they are, it is only good because you are winning them points, unlike me!" I replied. She laughed.

After the game, she was beaming but said to me: "Dara, I only played because you did. I know that they will talk, and they will talk to the guys in the other office." She paused. I looked at her and said, "So what? What did you do wrong?"

She thought, looked at me and said, "Yes, I don't care if they talk. I had fun."

Actually, the guys in the Fayzabad office were great. They made my Gender Assistant feel comfortable, and made sure that she and I had a chance to hit the ball. It is like a little oasis in many ways, but particularly for her. I could tell immediately when I arrived a couple days after her and she was happy, laughing with the guys, and looking much more relaxed than she does normally.

"I think you should spend more time out here," I said to her.

"Yes," she replied with a smile, "I like it out here."

In fact, I am pretty sure that the same would not happen in other offices. In many offices, integrating women staff into the work of the office is a challenge. I never knew how much until I had to do it myself.

As an international women working here you have to be aware of perceptions of you and how that plays into your effectiveness, but for Afghan women the calculations are harder, and choices more difficult.

During one crisis in our office related to gender dynamics, I turned to my female Head of Office and said, "Wow, this must be what our mothers went through--but this must be worse."

So, today, the guys in Fayzabad helped give my Gender Assistant some of the confidence to challenge barriers, and she will no doubt keep pushing. She is one of the many strong women of Afghanistan, and one who does not quite understand her strength. Soon, I hope, she will realize it.

Who would have thought a little game of volleyball could be such an event.