Civilianization

There is no strategy for Civilianizing the Ministry, not one that I can see.  By Civilianization we mean not just replacing Uniformed Police with Civilians in the Ministries, but also melding the Contracted Civilians we hired, who operate at the upper echelons, with the rest of the Civil Service Corps.  Clearly no one wants to take this on, and the Afghans like the status quo just fine.  The more on high-priced payrolls that others fund the better.  So I am taking it upon myself, and any other fool who has nothing else to do, to find an Afghan/Coalition solution to long-term sustainability and affordability.  Luckily I found a willing Brit named Samantha who is a whiz at Human Resourcing to help work this.  Together we will slay this beast and bring some structure and reasonableness to the issue.  I do have my doubts as we are talking about big money salaries, but I have to try.  I have now become “Mr. Civilianization” in addition to my other titles: “Santa George”, and Mr. “Old Bills”.  My tutors during MoDA training warned me; George if they see you are a doer, they will work you to death.  Oh well.

 

Movement to the Ministry.  Sam on the left. Guardians on the right.

 

 

Parking

When lucky, we get the beastly MRAPs to haul us to the Ministry ghetto.  They are safe, but getting to and from the ministry while maneuvering through the crowded streets of Kabul is a nightmare.  Finding parking once we get there is also a huge deal.  When on an MRAP movement, it takes at least fifteen solders to chauffer me to my meeting.  Frankly, I feel very uncomfortable putting these young folks in harm’s way for me.  Most other days we get driven in or drive ourselves in armored Toyota Land Cruisers or Ford Expeditions, which are a dream to park and get around.  The only problem is that while they will survive a small arms ambush, they have limits when it comes to car bombs.  That’s the tradeoff. 

Just give me a dented Toyota Corolla with a cracked windshield and a picture of the martyred hero Masood in the rear window, and I’d be pretty safe.

 

 

Easy Park

 

Hard  Park

 

More Bills

The Ministry owes me a list of contract expenses by the end of the month from this past year that they want us to pay.  Ideally this list should match what was on the Minister’s approved plan, but this is Afghanistan.  What we thought were just under 200 contracts awarded this year, has become 500.  Clearly folks in the provinces went nuts with Dad’s credit card.  Now comes the reckoning.  General, “you do realize that the expenses on your list come to over twice what we have funds for”, I say confidently, expecting a long drawn out discussion, but he says nothing.  “I suggest you and your team relook this.” And off I went.  Four days later the list magically shrinks to just over what they believe is in our budget.  “This is what we want you to pay Mr. George”.  Hmmmm, I say, where did the other contracts and expenses go?  Staff interjects, “well this is what we are requesting the Coalition pay”.  I see “Old Bills” in the future for the man/woman who fills my chair when I leave in June.  They are too good at this to let such funds be left on the table.

Patching

The Military and Government Civilians recently gathered for a “patching” ceremony. Formally receiving your combat patch means many things to those in uniform.  Fundamentally it signifies being part of a team in a large combat operation.  It is awarded to all those who have been in theater over four months.  For myself is signifies that I have been recognized as part of that team.  The 2-Star General talked of the patching history and its importance in developing esprit-d-corps.  It is not to be taken lightly.  He proudly stated that we can now officially call ourselves “veterans” of the Afghanistan endeavor.  He personally handed them out to us while we stood at attention, though I think I was slouching a bit.  The patch is unique to this campaign.  A background of the Hindu-Kush maintains, with wheat signifying Afghanistan, two muskets signaling their fight for independence and a gladius sword for honor.   Frankly, I am honored.

 

Expensive Faces for a few Spaces

 

Sustainability and Affordability are part of the mantra civilians were given when we trained to come here, but too often it is expediency at whatever cost which drives many of the military here.  It’s a constant tug of war, and no more so than with the consultants we (and the other Donor’s) fund. There are at least five programs that fund Afghans to work the Ministries and they are all substantially better paid (5-15X) than the Civil Service Corps leaders and more is requested of us every day.  So much so, that when we decide to cut the support for any of them (because of patronage, corruption, inefficiency or down right fraud), the proverbial howls come.  Sound familiar?  Back home, the mechanics of Government trump the faces of the people who work it.  Over here it’s the opposite.  “Mr. George, don’t these fine people deserve to be employed?” Well yes I say, but the money you are using is for payroll management and they are photographers.  “Yes, but good photographers with Master’s Degrees”, comes the retort.  “Well if they are doing such a wonderful job, then the Government should have no problem picking up their salary’, I say confidently.  “Oh no, there is no money for that Mr. George”, they respond equally confident.  Unfortunately many of the howls come from folks in our camp who have equated their success with making Ministers happy and not making waves during their tour.  It’s a constant tug of war that I will win, or they will wait me out.

Six Month-a-versary

Its been six months since I arrived.  The first two were to learn the ropes, but now I’m the money man around here and those that need it know where to come.  I’ve been outside the Green Zone on 36 movements through the city, we’ve had 12 car bombs around town, have attended over 150 meetings, been through six “shelter-in-place” emergencies and about a dozen earthquakes.  Don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it is what it is.  “Old timers” say its much worse than 2014, but no sense worrying about it. 

We prepare to go out as needed about twice a week and do what the US Govt trained us to do.  I work with good folks and we look out after each other.  I miss my wife, daughters and my friends, and look forward to finishing this mission.  In February, I go home for a few weeks for R&R, then back for the last four month stretch.  My counterparts have come a long way and am happy to see progress, but there is still much to do.  This will have to go on long after I’m gone.  

 

Eight of my MODA  Class

 

 

 

Certificates for Everyone!

We held our end-of-year budget execution session at the Ministry.  All the heavies were there to hear the Ministry crow about all that was good, how wonderful it all was, execution at 75%, Payroll at 90%.  As long as you didn’t scratch too deeply below the paint it was all good.  That said, the procurement year was supposed to be a bust, but we just found out they had been awarding contracts all year long, just not telling anyone they did.  Certificates for Everyone!!!  Knowing how much they love certificates, I made up the awards and formally distributed them, making them all feel good about meeting the mission………at all costs. 

Just like back at home.  Everyone gets a trophy.

 

Trinkets and Bobbles

 

There are clearly different schools of thought and approach here in Camp.  There are those that work to have the Afghans reach a point of being able to sustain themselves, with a judicious applications of carrots and sticks.  The sticks being withholding funds when things get squirrelly and want to get them back on track.  Then there those who believe that success is making the Minister happy.  And happy means dangling anything shiny and new in front of them, and of course never taking money from them.  I have at least four bosses on any particular issue, and they all differ in their thoughts on carrots and sticks.   My former boss here said “You can’t be a good parent if on one hand you take away their cake, but give them ice cream instead”.   No truer words for this place.

Not Quite Right

It’s been getting pretty noisy in town lately.  We plan to go out to advise at the Ministry and then the roads go “black”, meaning certain routes (typically mine) are rated no-go for the time being.  The run is scrapped for the day, so we get out of our gear and tend to mindless taskers, email or arguing about stuff.   The threat for us is car bombs.  Today I called it right.  The roads weren’t Black yet, but the feedback I got from the locals was that folks weren’t on the roads, so I cancelled our movement.  An hour or so later we learned that a determined bad guy had detonated his explosives laden car.  Somewhat fortunately the explosive totaled the car, but wasn’t enough to kill him.  So he, festooned with his own explosive vest, went running down the street where he then just laid down in the intersection.  We didn’t hear what the locals did to “disarm” him, but suspect is was pretty creative.  We were kept from doing the Nation’s bidding to help build this country by some fool who couldn’t even blow himself up. 

Happy New Year

We invited all of the young Afghan workers we hired and their uniformed Afghan bosses for a New Year’s Eve lunch at the cafeteria and then a challenge Volleyball Game in the Gym.  For those that didn’t know, the Afghans love volleyball and play it often.  They spanked us quite handily in the summer, now we wanted to show them that we could hold our own.  We pushed so much food on them at lunch hoping to make them unable to play, but alas they were ready.  We played three games and lost them all, but the camaraderie was there and we had a great time.  We helped build this fine functioning team for the betterment of the Ministry, and from their performance to date, they will do just fine. I gave my counterpart a silver and lapis set of worry beads and he gave me and my team a gold-plated candy dish (whose velvet case smelled like dung).  Maybe there is a message in there somewhere.

 

 

They love lunch at our cafeteria

 

 

Athletes ?