me. To be blunt, I felt like I was a gold fish in a small glass bowl as everyone just stared and gawked at me and of course this didn’t end that day. The gold fish bowl experience would last my entire time in Pakistan and Afghanistan though I got very used to it after some time.
As I walked around the office, I thought there was something odd about it, though I didn’t realise what it was until the next day or so. There were no women at all in the office. Not one woman visitor or employee, or worker at all. I thought this to be strange, though as I was trying to learn new names and functions and really couldn’t put too much thought into that just then, but I would later. After Wali Sahib had shown me around the crowded, dirty and seemingly unorganised offices, I asked where I was to be seated. He sort of mumbled something back to me then starting whispering in Persian to a few of the minions around us. I then realised that I really was just a ‘visitor’ as there had been no thought to any form of office space, or even a seat, to be allocated for me. It seemed as if ATC assumed I would work somewhere else and just drop in occasionally. Wali Sahib was very embarrassed about this oversight and he quickly had one junior officer grab all his papers and paraphernalia from his desk and vacate his small office for me. Whilst he did, Wali Sahib invited me into the kitchen and had a tea boy make us both a hot cup of chai. As we drank and stood in the kitchen I asked him what he thought I was here to do. Now in Afghan syntax there is a word that gives seniority or a sense of endearment to the person you are talking to. It is the word “Jan” which is pronounced something like “Jon”. Well at this time, Wali Sahib answered as honestly as he could and said, “Membrey Jan, I was told you were coming as the technical advisor for ATC and we are very glad to have you come here all the way from Australia. But I must tell you, I was not informed that you would arrive today and I am sorry for the confusion. But let’s see what we can do.” It was an honest response but not particularly helpful to me. I looked out of the kitchen into the former dining area that was full of desks with papers strewn about and pin boards with Islamic pictures on them and the old, dank and smelly atmosphere with people walking about in strange clothing. Oh my God, this next twelve months are going to be hell, I thought that morning.
Finally Wali Sahib shook my hand and went back to his office and I was placed temporarily in the formerly occupied administration office, though I have no idea where the original officer had gone to. There didn’t seem to be any other space available in the entire building and I didn’t actually see the guy again for some days. It was a mystery, but there I was, sitting at a small desk in the ATC office, with no guidance, no work to do and not being able to see what the organization was all about. I had to do something about this, and quick.
After a demoralizing and confused next few days, the weekend finally came around and although I now knew many of the ATC staff, I really hadn’t done anything more than read a few odd reports and look at some maps of the demining sites in Afghanistan. Nevertheless, I was very relieved the weekend had come. Jude and I spent the weekend shopping, looking for a new house and I was thinking of ways I could get involved in the ATC operations and be able to do what I thought I could do best: to guide the administration outputs and review and agitate the operational functions of the NGO. By the following Monday morning, I had a plan and an earnest resolve in my heart.
Monday morning soon came around and so, in my unprepossessing Operation Salam uniform, I went forth to rally my actions in bettering the operational efficacy of ATC, or something similar to that. Of course when I arrived at about 9 am, the gates were fully open and people walked in and out unchallenged whilst Kefayatullah’s office was already being loaded with the usual gatherings of visitors and associates. I walked straight into his office and of course interrupted a meeting, but said very politely that I needed to meet with him straight after lunch and that I would be back in his office then. Kefayatullah just sat there looking over his reading glasses then smiled and said, “Of course Membrey Jan. I’ll see you then,” to which I nodded, saluted and walked out. This was the first organised meeting I had with him and Wali Sahib. It started a chain of reactions that set up the year as one of the most interesting and personally satisfying times of my life.
At this next meeting and the subsequent ones we had daily, Kefayatullah, Wali Sahib and I made a great many changes. We organised the desks throughout the office into functional areas and placed two, three or four desks in all the various bedrooms. We had the notice boards filled in, we set routines for the distribution of paperwork, timelines and deadlines for staff and organised the security of the office. We had the external gates locked, whilst hiring security guards to monitor and register incoming visitors and another to man the front door, which was changed to a steel-framed door. It was also decided to allocate me my own private space and to establish an ‘office’ for me as the technical advisor. But most importantly, we made the major decision to leave these offices and find a larger and more modern space for ATC. This would take us almost three months, though we did it and the office became a place where staff and visitors actually felt comfortable and professional. In a very short time, we made a huge impact on the everyday operations of the ATC offices and of course in the coming weeks, I would become deeply involved in the operational side of the demining. This was where the real challenges were to be found!
Chapter 2
First Movements ‘Inside’
(February 1991)
It was during the first month or so of my posting that I actually travelled inside Afghanistan and, like a kid in a lolly shop, I wanted to see and do everything, largely ignoring the dangers. One day I travelled with Kefayatullah and a team of nine support staff into the south-eastern area of the country to see some real demining taking place.
First we loaded up into four Nissan Patrol vehicles, each equipped with VHF and HF radios, as in the early 1990s satellite telephones were still huge, cumbersome affairs that were very expensive to buy and to use. Mobile phones were available, though without the functionality and service available today. Certainly mobile phone services were not available in these areas of Afghanistan back in 1991. However, the vehicles were all first class and, although not luxurious, very comfortable and reliable.
We headed out of Peshawar and into the ‘tribal areas’ after first passing a check post of Pakistani border guards that was located well to the south of the main border crossing at Torkham. The infamous town of Torkham remains a typical rundown, chaotic and dirty place that belies its own historical importance. It is the gateway from Afghanistan to the famous and somewhat infamous, Khyber Pass
The Khyber Pass cuts through the north-eastern part of the Spin Ghar mountains that run along much of the eastern border of Afghanistan, as an offshoot of the Hindu Kush mountain system. The pass connects Afghanistan with Pakistan, though is largely located inside Pakistan and is an integral part of the ancient Silk Road. It is one of the oldest known mountain passes in the world. Throughout history, the Khyber Pass has been part of the region’s military strategy and remains a major trade route joining Central and South Asia. Throughout history, a variety of invasions have been made through this fabulous pass, including those by Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan. The people of the local Pashtun clans, particularly those called the Afridis, have regarded the Khyber Pass as their own and levied tolls on travellers for safe travel until recent times. The Pashtuns are a broad tribal grouping of very Aryan-looking people, typically tall, good looking and incredibly fierce when put to the test. Pashtuns live throughout this part of Pakistan and across the border in Afghanistan.
The Khyber Pass is also located in the general area of the Pakistani Federally Administered Tribal Area (FATA) and it is here that Osama Bin Laden was thought to be hiding in 2001, well before his actual capture further inside Pakistan. The FATA is an extended region that reaches from the north-west Durand Line (i.e. the border with Afghanistan), south down to the Balochistan province. It has its own, semi-autonomous political influence in the national government.
For strategic reasons just after the First World War, the British built a railway through the pass between Peshawar and the Afghan border. Specific parts of the train line still operate
