A few months back, I was in DC visiting some of the most amazing friends in the world. Celebrating the goodness of life and friendship, we were dancing up a storm; but, needing a break from it all, I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. “Hey, how are you?” a kind sir asked. And in DC, we all know that the second question, before even asking your name, is “and, what do you do?”. He looked nice enough, so I explained that I was an international development professional working in Kabul. “Woah!”, he nearly spit his drink on me. After the kind sir caught his breath (no, we still didn’t know each others names), he asked “so, is Kabul home then?”. I paused, smiled and responded. “Yes, Kabul is home for me right now”. As I spoke those words, I slide back into the world I know so well in the war torn country.
Of all of the places I have lived, Kabul has been the hardest place to for me to call home. I say that, probably not for the reasons you are thinking, but rather in spite of those issues. The security restrictions create a barrier between the world in which I live and the real Afghanistan. There is a beautiful culture that I see glimpses of, there are mountains I can see from my window and veiled women whose story I will never know. There is so much left to see, so much left to do; yet, the restrictions remain.
There is a window. In my office, there is a window. If you crack the window slightly in the morning, you can hear the laughter of children. If you open the blinds in the afternoon, you will see women walking hand in hand through the park. If you get up early enough, you will see guards patrolling the sidewalks. If you look closely, you will see families taking pictures amongst the beautiful rose bushes. And if you watch long enough, and if you believe, you too, will see that this window, this window in my office, it is a window to the future of Afghanistan.
Through the window, I do get a glimpse of Afghanistan, but I know it is only a snapshot in time of what is happening. And, of course, my window paints a picture only the blessed are fortunate enough to see. For all of these reasons and more, Afghanistan will always be a place I call home.
