Please Don't Go

My boss got a letter from the Deputy Minister for Interior Affairs. “Hello and Good Morning; This is a recommendation letter asking you if it’s okay with Mr. George to please extend his mission period with the Ministry for one more time, as he is a good adviser to all MoI Finance Directorate and at the same time he is a good solution maker for all financial problems.”  Well, it appears they want the bill payer to stay a bit longer, no doubt to take care of some more pesky bills.  Or maybe the Greek in me resonates with them.  I’m not sure, but my counterpart Major General is not happy that my time is nearly up.  He has been a champion of many of our causes, and for that has put his life, and of his family at risk.  I’ve got mixed feelings, but we have given them the tools to succeed, now they have to want it more than me.

 

Yes, it is time to go.

 

A Shiny New Building

The Coalition spent a good sum building a new Ministry HQ building, unfortunately its not in town where a Police HQ should be, but that’s another story.  The place was built to western standards to support cube-ville and large collaborative work spaces, but of course the Afghans don’t work in such places.  They prefer separate offices to mark their domain.  Collaboration is fleeting at best.  We delivered a nice building in December, they cut the ribbon, and then the Afghans proceeded to make modifications.  Nice terrazzo floor?  No, it must be covered with marble, Cube-ville desks? Dismantled, sold for scrap as everyone wants an office with big wooden desks.  Their contractors got to work partitioning all the large work areas, and partition they did with no regard to A/C, air circulation, lighting or fire escapes.  Lights in the way?  No problem, just split the difference.  Ceiling fan in the way? Just cut off a blade.   Ah, the foibles of absolute determination to get the mission done at all costs. 

 

 

Kite Runner - Part 2

The nice man thought long and hard about his bucket list.  So many things to do before he leaves.  One thing he wants to do badly is fly a kite in Kabul.  A local paper one, colorful with a cutting string for aerial battle.  His local aid gets him three, I guess he figures the man will crash the first two.  Clouds were forming in the late day as a storm was brewing, so now was the time to fly.  He climbed the balcony and got to the top platform, gauging the wind and waiting for the right moment.  Tried as he might, the kite wouldn’t take off.  The local Afghan in the shop below sensing his struggles got his kite out as well and got it aloft.  Undeterred the nice man got is up, maybe 30 feet before it came down. 

Before long a camp police patrol came stomping by.  She stopped, looked up at the man, put her hands on her hip, "Hey, are you flying a kite?" she asked.  Since the kite was in his hand, he technically correctly answered "well not really".  To wit she proceed to say that he was violating a Camp Order.  Hmmmm, he says loudly, "Is that the Order next to the one that tells one how to wipe their ass?  Angry police lady was not amused and quickly stomped off to no doubt write her report about the incorrigible, but handsome, man.

I guess the nice man will go next door to the Embassy to try his luck.

 

 

Is it Safe?

Folks always ask me if its safe here.  If you wanted safe, then this is not the place to work.  Its all about calculated risk and frankly a numbers game.  For those that don’t go out of the walls, its pretty safe with lots of security features and guards keeping a constant eye out for bad people.  If you travel in the Green Zone to one nearby Ministry, your risk goes up a bit for the walk, and a bit more if some errant guard decides that you are a target.  For those of us who go outside the Green Zone to one of the many other Ministry sites, the risk goes up appreciably commensurate with the vehicle you ride in. Bad people are actually out hunting for us. It happened last week to one movement.  We didn’t go out that day, but a few other colleagues did in a well-equipped armored MRAP convoy.  A bad guy rammed his sedan into one MRAP and fortunately it didn’t go high order.  They arrested the driver and cleared the car of the 150 lbs or so of high explosives.  My fellow advisors came back to camp with a story and a dilemma.  Poor detonator placement meant the difference between a fender bender and a tragedy.  It’s a numbers game, as the more you go out, the higher the risk.  I’m at over 70 movements so that puts me at higher risk than those with a dozen and less than those with a few hundred.  You can’t worry about it.  You prepare, get your head in the game and make the call on whether to move that day or not.  As for one of the Advisors in the convoy, he was in one of the other two MRAPs.  He was also in the second helicopter that did not crash into our camp in October.  Not sure how one man can go through two close calls like that and ask himself whether he is just lucky or just teasing fate.

The Other Half

Our Embassy colleagues are just over the wall, but they may as well be in a different country.  They rarely get out, so they rely on us that do for much of their information.  I see them at Donor meetings and talk to them regularly.  I must say, they are smart and driven young people and as such they do live a lifestyle far different than ours.  We have General Order #1 which pretty much precludes anything fun.  They have no such prohibitions, and like to party when the day is done.  We go over to sample their food, local bar (no drinks for us) and the open courtyards.  It is a refreshing escape from Camp.  Celebrating Asian Pacific Islander Day was a real chance to see how the other half lives. Not bad.  Back to my Ghetto.

 

Tree Wars - Victory

Some weeks ago “Tree Wars” began on Camp and I was bound not to lose.  Our three fruit tree saplings are stressed, but surviving (another allegory for this place).  It was time for the cu-de-grase this this final battle.  Our Ministry of Finance colleagues dedicated their tree with a marble plaque, shamelessly carved with their names on it, outdoing another Division’s “Friendship” plaques.   I funded some local Nuristani craftsmen to make us three wooden signs and they came through fabulously.  Carved, scrolled, painted and stained signs as a testament to our enduring commitment (literally) to this place.  Did I mention the Nuristani are direct descendants from Alexander the Great when he was here?  Yes, we Greeks invented everything!!!  Oh yes, we won this battle.

Mr Old Bills is Busy

Mr. Old Bills has been busy as it’s been my objective to clear the books of these old obligations before I leave in a month or so, easing the burden to my successor.  The locals know it and have been bum-rushing my office hoping to hear the Ka-Chunk of my stamper.  It hasn’t been working for them.  The last three Committee sessions I chaired resulted in nothing approved representing in some $55M in old claims still sitting around.  They are getting nervous and so am I since the prevailing leadership winds around here are saying “no”, mostly on principle.  My strategy for the next month while I tee up the options for leadership is simple; make Afghans produce good paper (and excuses), let them sweat a bit to instill discipline, and keep myself safe for another day.  If I say “no”, now then my cloak of invincibility loses its mojo, putting me and my team at risk.  I just don’t need this shit. 

Chai Latte Diplomacy

My Brit deputy and I have become adept at bringing in coalition donors for coffee or Chai to discuss and get consensus on one topic or another.  It’s a wonderful exercise as you get to know someone on a personal level and tease out positions that otherwise would never get said in a formal meeting.  It’s a great way to get things done, and we should do more of it back home.  What someone drinks, whether it’s at the bar or in the coffee house, says much about them.  This past week, I had four Chocolate Chai Lattes in just one afternoon, but what we gained from our counterparts was worth more than a month’s worth of meetings.  Maybe I need to set up a Chai account in the budget which will certainly be much cheaper (and more effective) than three Armored Vehicles, 15 Guardians on a trip to the edge of the Green Zone.

Penny Wise, Pound Foolish

The Ministry came to us begging to fund a media team which had been cut loose.  “But Mr. George, this is an important function that cannot be allowed to go away” they said passionately, knowing they had found a sympathetic 2-Star on base to champion this latest form of welfare.  I developed a few options for leadership, but the viable ones involve us paying.   Did I ever tell you about our standing line: “We do not pay, until we do”.  It’s an uphill battle to get them to see the bigger picture of self-sustainment.  As I presented the options to the room of senior Afghan and Coalition leaders, I reminded them that at the end of the day, it’s a $180,000 problem, easily solvable given our $4B commitment to this place, but I reminded them that just a few days earlier, we penalized the Ministry $1M for some violation and they didn’t seem to notice.  Yet, for this insignificant issue, we have three Deputy Ministers arguing.  Where was this passion over the violation?  They “won” $180K, but lost $1M.  I think I’ll let them noodle that one for a while.