reduced and my tongue was far smaller. Feeling happy, I stayed up for some time but again hit the rack and slept till the early morning. The swelling took three days to completely disappear and it was a frightening experience though one that has never repeated itself. It quite possibly could have been a nervous reaction to the stress of those first three weeks in the country, but to be honest, I have had much worse periods in my life since then and nothing like this has taken place. I still believe I may have eaten something, or had been bitten by something, or perhaps a combination of all three options took place in those strange and concerning first few days there in Peshawar.
ooOoo
Not so long after all this madness was over, Jude and I were in Islamabad as I was required to attend a briefing and we were told we should buy some great Pakistani made furniture. Some other internationals we had met, told us that the shops in Islamabad could make any timber furnishing in any design we wished. To be honest, until now, Jude and I had lived on a basic Army officer’s salary and had been used to buying second-hand furniture at second grade fairs. But, here we were in Pakistan where everything was made cheap, but to high standards and we were cashed up! A very good shop that had reasonable pricing was described to us and off we went in a hurry, to look. This shop had beds and chairs and rockers and coat stands and clothing stands and tables and wardrobes, in fact, any type of furniture you could think of. We looked all over the display area of the shop and really wanted to buy some. But, we didn’t have to buy what we saw, we could have our own designs made for us and all that was needed was a drawing or photograph. Although I was aware that prices in Pakistan were cheap, this was too much and really I had trouble digesting what we could buy for the amount of money we were being charged. I asked the gentleman showing us around whether it was possible to add this, delete that or perhaps change this design for that. In response, he said politely, though with a certain knowledge and authority, “Sir, in Pakistan, anything is possible.” I could never forget this saying and smiled widely as he said it.
We selected a number of smaller items including some jewellery boxes and nick knacks and we thought what we really needed. Then, it was back to Peshawar where Jude and I roamed through a myriad of magazines and advertising leaflets until we decided what furniture we really wanted. I have always been somewhat of a traditional guy, with a penchant for colonial fare and this is what we chose: a master bed with colonial backing stays and a dining table as big as it could be, though with a removable centre piece and of course we thought to include an array of the inlaid, brass designs that really were something special. This was backed by classic chairs, a high standing coat rack and a rocking horse complete with real horse hair for the tail. The total cost was minimal and we had all of it delivered within four weeks. I now understand that young children were probably responsible for the construction of our cheap furniture, but that too is another story.
ooOoo
It was now time to meet my new boss and see what Afghan Technical Consultants was all about. I was in a mix of eagerness to find all this out, together with some in trepidation of meeting these new Afghan people who I’d heard of and seen so much about. It was a Monday morning when my driver, whose name was in fact Siddiqullah, not ‘Ridiculous’, came and picked me up at 9 am sharp.
I was dressed in my Operation Salam uniform that was a mix of bad Pakistani ‘tailormanship’ and poor judgment by the military folk who authorised its colour and style. Operation Salam was the overall project name for the United Nations humanitarian assistance support to Afghanistan, and the demining program was a part of it. As a technical advisor within Operation Salam, I was considered to be an ‘expert on mission’ and therefore, like the demining advisors and trainers, I was supposed to wear this hideous uniform. It was a long-sleeved, open-shirt style uniform of a light tan colour, with several ugly badges sewn on each shoulder like a boy scout. It really was neither military nor professional in its appearance though I was required to wear it, and I did, for at least the first two weeks.
Siddiqullah and I arrived at the ATC offices and I got out of the car and went to walk inside. I had seen the old house that was being used for the ATC offices earlier, as I had snooped around the city, trying to get my bearings in the previous three or four days. It was in an older section of Peshawar and had a high, dark brown and moss-covered brick wall at the front with only about four metres of garden before the actual house. I remember thinking, even as I walked in for the first time, that there was basically no stand-off protection should an explosion occur outside. Making this worse, there was no guard out front and the gates were open for anyone to walk inside. There was also just a simple fly-screen door that led inside the office space proper, where there was a number of scattered desks with papers and documents all out and readable by anyone who entered. My security feelers were up and alert already. As I walked inside the office I thought, this is going to be a tough duty station.
Siddiqullah led me to the open office spaces through a short hallway to another open space that seemed like a small waiting area where several mujahideen-looking men sat, staring goggle-eyed at me. We passed by and entered through an open door into what was obviously a bedroom before being made into an office. I walked inside and saw a huge desk with several lounge chairs and a low coffee table. The walls were stained with black streaks from moisture and living micro-organisms, whilst the carpet covering the area under the chairs was basically worn through. The desk area was empty, but four Afghan men, all in traditional dress, were sitting in the lounge chairs and each of them stopped talking and stared directly at me as I walked in. Immediately I realised I was interrupting a meeting though Siddiqullah had just led me straight in. Not a great way to meet my new boss, I thought, as one of the men stood up and smiled broadly. “Assalam Alikhum,” he said to me as he jostled to come around the table and shake my hand. This was clearly Kefayatullah and I shook his hand and said hello. Both of us were a little unsettled and ill at ease, but I introduced myself and said I was sorry to have interrupted his meeting and that I’d come back in shortly. Kefayatullah smiled his broad, toothy smile again and said something to his guests in local Dari language and then to Siddiqullah, and everyone started to leave the office. Kefayatullah invited me to sit at an office chair at his desk whilst he walked around to take his rightful post behind the desk. He was a little nervous, as was I, and he asked me how I had settled in, was my house OK, was Siddiqullah behaving, and several other inconsequential questions. I answered all of these and began to explain what I knew of my assignment with ATC. I was about to ask where would I sit in the office and what he expected from me, when a tall, elder gentleman and two younger Afghans walked in. I was introduced to the older gentleman first, Mr Wali Sahib the administrative officer, then the two other senior officers of ATC. Wali Sahib was a gentleman, and he and I would become very good friends in the next several months. I found him to be a highly respected person and one of wisdom and great humour. We were to share a lot of jokes, laughs and a few tears over the course of the year.
But at this first meeting all of us seemed a little nervous of each other and I think it was because we were from such varied cultures that none of us seemed to know what to expect of the other. It was a friendly and cordial meeting but I think both Kefayatullah and I were both glad when it ended. After another handshake and toothy smile, I left Kefayatullah’s office and walked out with Wali Sahib to find what I thought would be my office space. My memories of this first meeting with Kefayatullah are a little vague though I remember he spoke reasonably good English and appeared very friendly, albeit uncertain of who I was or what I was to do. Kefayatullah was in his early 40s and wore a short but thick beard and was about my height. He was a bit on the fattish side and clearly was no sportsman or fitness enthusiast as I noticed his slim arms and his slightly bulging waist line. I found it hard to piece together who he really was for two to three weeks as he always had people in his office and several more waiting to get in. It really was pandemonium at his personal office and if I needed to see him in those first several days, either I’d have to wait and wait, or I’d have to interrupt a meeting. It seemed like he did everything and anything himself and all visitors only came to see him. Unusual, I thought, and something I’d need to look at.
So on this first day, I walked around the offices with Wali Sahib as he introduced me to a range of staff
