The Mission, and Life, Continues

After a couple of days of stunned grief, we got back in the saddle on Thursday and went back to work. Nervously, I climbed back into my armored truck and, along with the team, hit the road. We drove past the site of this week's suicide bombing, scorch marks, a small crater, and a downed tree all that remained of that horror. I took a deep breath for myself and made the sign of the cross in memory of our friends.

 

Our first stop was to check in on the UN advisers to the upcoming elections. As we walked into their walled, barbed wired compound, we were hit by an odd, sweet, outdoorsy smell. Inside we came upon a gorgeous rose garden, lovingly tended and in fool bloom. Wonderfully, movingly unexpected. We walked in and had French press coffee and chow hall donuts (I stole some early that morning) with a Bolivian, a German, and two Liberians. Our Afghan elections officer, located nearby and hearing we were in the neighborhood, dropped in, gave me a hug, held my hand, and asked where was that laptop I "promised."

 

We moved on to a meeting with some of our Provincial Council members, the highest elected officials in our province (who have an odd tendency to blame things on "the government"). They were genuinely happy to see us and to see us ok. One of them called immediately after the attack to make sure we were ok, while another went to the scene. I, like a tactless fool, sat down and got straight to business. They politely answered, then went on for 15 minutes about how they were so glad we hadnt been involved and how they were praying for the good people that were killed and their families. And they meant every word. It was touching. I felt connected. As we finished our meeting, they told us how much we'd helped them, how much they'd miss us when we left, but how happy they'd be when we were safe with our families. I was moved.

 

We finished our day and came home, successful, exhausted, and relieved.

 

On Friday I learned that a very close friend here just received test results from a routine medical check he did while home on leave. The results were not good.

 

On Saturday morning I learned that the Deputy Governor of our Province, a trusted colleague who was everything that the Governor is not, passed away on Friday night after a months-long struggle with illness.

 

On Saturday night I went to church for the first time in weeks, looking for a little peace.

 

This morning I went back out, took another deep breath and made the sign of the cross, looked at some projects, met the oldest, coolest judge in Afghanistan (picture Gandalf speaking Dari), and came back home, sweaty, tired, and ready for this damn month to end already.