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DEEPAK GILL volunteered as an aid worker in Afghanistan for a month last year. Here's his account.
PEERED out of the window as the aircraft slowly descended. It looked like we were about to land on Mars. The land was void of trees, and shrubs were sparse as well. The entire landscape was reddish brown, including the hills, valleys and mud homes.

As usual, curiosity got the upper hand over nervousness, so I was eager to get explore this alien land. We were now in south-west Pakistan, as close as this aircraft could get to Afghanistan, my destination.

The short domestic flight from Karachi to Quetta carried a capacity crowd, among them Mercy Malaysia’s Mission 20, a five-person volunteer team of which I was a member. The others in the team were private practitioners Dr Norherah Syed Omar, 37 and Dr Heng Aik Cheng (a Mercy exco member) (49), photographer Ben Chai (59) and lecturer Hanita Hanim Ismail, 28. The team would be deployed for two weeks, while I was staying on for another two.

Cool autumn air mingled with the omnipresent dust as we cleared the little airport’s security. We were met by Malaysian Ismail Mohammed Hashim, Afghanistan Project Manager, and his right-hand man, Mercy Project Officer Omer Agha, a Pashtun Afghani. Both were dressed in traditional Afghan threads.

They took us to Mercy’s Quetta base, where we played a waiting game. The overland run to the Afghan border was not as safe as it normally was, thanks to tribal feuds. So we had to sit it out and wait around for a few days – not a problem for me because I entertained myself with the bongos that I brought along, read a Dalai Lama book and chatted with Ismail, 36, a personality you don’t often meet.

He had moved from a relatively hedonistic job to work with an international aid organisation.

I might have bumped into Ismail at some point during my nightclubbing sorties in downtown Kuala Lumpur. He said I looked familiar. Ismail was formerly the operations director of one of the top restaurant cum nightclubs in the city before he quit and signed up with Mercy for his one-year tour in Afghanistan. We had lots of juicy stories to exchange about home.

It struck me that my one-month tour would be a lot more smooth-going working with somebody I clicked with. From Quetta onwards, I made it a point to make an entry in my journal every night (i.e. the uncensored variety of this story!)

After five days of being holed up in Quetta, the time finally came for us to roll out. That news was a relief, especially for the other guys as their tour was only for two weeks. We were determined to make it into Afghanistan although not all the requisite security-related papers were sorted out.

When we finally hit the road in a three-vehicle convoy, it was a six-hour journey through deserts, villages and mountains. We spent some time at the border, paying a courtesy call to the Pakistani military chief in charge of the area. The border at Spin Boldak is chaotic to say the least, with all sorts of trucks, farm vehicles and people gridlocking the little road. There were a lot of shady-looking characters, some possibly with guns under their robes. It was like a scene out of a Western, except some of the cowboys here look like Taliban.

Mercy’s old office here had been stormed and robbed by bandits armed with AK-47s, the preferred tool of intimidation. Fortunately nobody was shot – I am told its customary for them to pop at least one person before they flee the scene.

I said to Ismail in the safety of our air-conditioned MPV, “Man, what a sh@&hole.”

He laughed and agreed. It was a relief to pass through that dump of a township and be in Afghanistan.

The first thing you notice about Afghanistan is how dry, dusty and barren it is. For someone coming from a lush tropical country, this can be a little unsettling at first. But you get used to the dust in your hair, eyes, nose, mouth, shoes, bag, on your shades, and clothes. In seven years it rained once, and that was several months ago.

We stopped a little later to get our passports stamped. As we drove on, I noticed a “tent village”, where hundreds live under the searing sun below canvas and tarps. These were among the millions displaced by decades of brutal fighting.

After several hours, we passed the Kandahar airport on the outskirts of the city, currently occupied by the US forces. There was a burnt-out Soviet tank – from their failed 1980-89 invasion – standing silently by the road and rusting into history. It was a reminder of the one million Afghanis who were killed by the USSR.

The “city” itself proved to be no more than a large “brown town” – everything seemed brown, due partly to dust and the use of mud to build or coat most buildings. Many had holes – from bullets and shells. Hardly anything stood higher than two floors.

Ismail led us into Mercy’s compound, which was guarded by two bearded men with an AK each, a standard-issue as common as cutlery (actually so were beards). The “crib” was more comfortable than I expected – there were two houses in two areas – one for the local staff and another for us. We unloaded our packs and kicked back for the day.

The next morning we visited Mercy’s Vocational Training Center (VTC) downtown. This is a very successful project where women are trained over three months in sewing. At the end of the programme, the successful ones get a sewing machine to take home with them. At least, the family would not need to buy clothes anymore. They might be able to make some money as well.

Other international NGOs have visited the centre to learn more from Mercy on how to encourage Afghani women to change their mindset and make the necessary improvements. For years, the women have been made to feel that they do not belong in society, no thanks to the Taliban. This centre is among the reasons Mercy is well-respected by the locals and by international aid agencies here, including the United Nations (UN).

Another facility that has greatly benefited mothers and their kids is the Mother Child Health Center (MCH), a free medical service run by Mercy. This is also located within the city, in a large, two-storey rented bungalow. Dr Norherah and Dr Heng were stationed here for a while and attended to patients, whose number swelled significantly when word got round that Malaysian doctors were in town!

The MCH has been operating since mid-2003, and provides free consultation and medicine to Afghani women. It does not charge, even for deliveries. While we were there in August, the first birth took place, and the delivery was by a new female doctor from Kabul, Dr Jamilah.

As Afghani women have for many years been sidelined and many are penniless and widowed or have lost sons to the wars, what Mercy is doing is heaven-sent for them. For most, there is no where else to turn. Many can’t afford even the low cost of medicine at the Kandahar hospital.

Every morning I would see a new bunch huddled outside the centre waiting their turn. Most would have their kids with them and little else. These people had very little belongings and some of their clothes were in pretty bad shape – old, faded and covered with dust.

The burqa or robe is normally thrown over their regular clothes, and most times it’s blue. To me, it looked like a parachute over the body with a net for the face so they could see and breathe. Many patients would uncover their faces once inside our compound, but some would hurriedly bring “down the shutters” as soon as a male appeared.

I taught English to the centre’s staff every afternoon, a project that was not as straightforward as I had imagined. Fortunately both men and women were grateful and very enthusiastic, eager for any form of education. One midwife, whom I referred to as “aunt”, insisted that I address her as moor or “mother”.

The third Mercy project in Kandahar is the provision of wells in villages. We had the opportunity to visit most of the well project locations. However we gave some villages a miss because of security concerns. (We had weekly meetings at the UN headquarters where we were briefed on the security situation by the UN and the US military).

The well projects involve the drilling of wells that are operated with hand pumps, and located in a central part of the village. This water is normally the source of all the villagers’ water supply, whether for drinking, bathing or cooking. Sadly, almost all the rivers that I came across were as dry as dust.

One well under construction which we visited was located beside a huge marijuana plantation. Drugs seemed to have made a comeback since the Taliban were ousted.

Hanita was assisting the trainers at the VTC to teach English to the students. The classes are conducted during the mid-morning break, and the girls seemed very enthusiastic about learning the new language. Hopefully this new generation would be more educated than their parents and they would be able to help rebuild the country. While life expectancy in Malaysia averages 72 years, in Afghanistan, it’s only 47 years (reference: CIA World Factbook).

The mission members were usually escorted by Ismail, Omer and another Mercy Project Officers, Asham Agha – who were very handy as interpreters as well. Nothing was ever lacking for us – these three guys saw to that, whether it was food or drinks or work-related needs.

I accompanied Ismail to meetings with other aid agencies or with the UN. Otherwise, I would read, watch TV or snooze in my spare time. Evenings and nights were pretty tame, and we always stayed within the compound after dark. Nights were the time to talk with my colleagues – about anything and everything.

Mercy’s large compound in Kandahar is recognisable from some distance away – fluttering proudly in the wind above the high perimeter is the country’s and Mercy’s flags. However, for security reasons, the organisation’s four vehicles do not carry the Malaysian flag, as it is rather similar to the American flag and could be targeted. Mercy has three MPVs (one is an ambulance) and a pick-up.

Safety-wise, Ismail saw to it that we placed extra emphasis on security. While we were in Kandahar, there were several attacks against aid organisation compounds or their staff, and unfortunately some were successful. I had a two-way radio, a satellite phone, US currency and passport with me at all times, even when I slept. This would enable immediate evacuation with just the clothes on my back – if necessary.

Being on the road was a little more nerve-racking, since there had been an incident of a Red Cross vehicle travelling out of town being stopped by armed men. The four local aid staff were executed. There were several rural areas that I had wanted to travel to but was advised against it for my own safety.

Two weeks passed and the other guys left. I stayed on for another two weeks, and was pretty much on my own as Ismail had gone back to Malaysia for his well-deserved break and his assistant Nizam was still in KL. I was accompanied by Omer as well as our local Afghani staff who lived within the HQ’s compound – the cook, gateman, the drivers and project officers. I was fortunate to have them as company. When I was down with high fever, they looked out for me like a brother.

I had a chat with one of the young MCH nurses Halimah towards the tail-end of my tour. She explained that women here still have to behave and look very conservative, as many Afghanis fear the government will not hold out and factions, like the Taliban, would re-emerge. The capital Kabul has seen liberal moves but Kandahar is still conservative for this was the Taliban’s capital.

Like all women, as soon as she leaves the premises, she puts on the burqa and becomes just another silent, faceless person.

One of the first sensations back in KL was of amazement – at how many different colours there are apart from brown. Especially green! I had a great time checking out the trees and lush greenery – it’s something you miss and appreciate after a month in a barren land. That, and girls without burqas! I had to deal with culture shock yet again.

Coming home was like taking a dreamy vacation to paradise. I recalled a quote:

The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land – G.K. Chesterto

At that moment, when I just got home, this quote couldn’t have been more right.

However, for a couple of days, I wasn’t sure where I truly belonged, as I had settled in well and had really gotten into the daily routine of life in Afghanistan.

Mercy Malaysia was kind enough to offer me the opportunity to work on their Afghanistan projects for another six-months. I was all for it but had to decline as I couldn’t get leave from work. I have not been very active with Mercy since then, although I hope to change that soon.

If you would like to help the less fortunate through one of the many organisations in Malaysia and around the world, or you would like to donate money, contact Mercy Malaysia at (03) 4256 9999, e-mail: info@mercy.org.my or visit www.mercy.org.my.

The above articles had been extracted from The Star Online