World on Fire

I know that I'm American. There's never a doubt in my mind, nor are there a lack of reminders while I'm out here proudly wearing an American flag on my right shoulder everywhere I go. And even though many days out here feel like Groundhog Day, sometimes the sacrifices we make to support Afghanistan make perfect sense...other days, the sacrifices the insurgents force us to make for our countries feel overwhelming.

I've been working on a blog about the trip I led to the orphanage 10 days ago...the orphanage that is probably 100 meters from where the vehicle-borne IED killed way too many innocent people this past Saturday. I led 13 people (my own team and people from three other teams) to the other side of Kabul where we delivered shoes, blankets, clothes and medical supplies to the 200-odd children who call that place home.

Orphanages here aren't like the ones we know in the States...here they are more like boarding schools. Afghanistan's violent history has created an entire culture of female war widows, whose dead husbands have left behind 6 or 7 children, no money, no home and no viable future. A majority of the Afghan population has no savings, no bank account and no concept of insurance of any type...so places like the orphanage we visited become a form of social insurance for Afghan families (particularly women) in need.

We hyped the kids up on Pixi Stix, Fun Dip and Dum Dums, played a quick game of soccer, drank some tea with the principal of all Kabul-area public orphanages, scooted right out of their home, donned our protective gear and re-entered the city streets. Almost fearlessly, which in retrospect seems insane...but out here, we can't live our lives in the rearview mirror.

It's a strange collection of things that keeps me human out here. Finding similarities that transcend Eastern and Western cultures is certainly one of them. Last week, during our visit to the orphanage, it was easy to bridge the gap between the East and West...we humans have so much in common.

Today, on the first day we've been officially authorized to interact with the world following Saturday's attack, that gap seems insurmountable. I'm trying hard to remind myself of the hundreds of thousands of genuinely good people who live in Afghanistan and of the great dreams they have for their children's future. These parents want to see their country succeed. Independently. But incredibly terrible, wildly dangerous people also live here...and they're lurking, awaiting targets of opportunity, and seeking to do harm to those of us here to help the Afghans rebuild their country.

In a few more days there will be a memorial for the many people from my base who lost their lives this past weekend. And I can only hope that when I stand in the main square to pay my respects, I can imagine the faces of the beautiful children at the orphanage and I can focus on the hopes and dreams of the Afghan parents...and not focus on the very evil people who hope to continue to force the Coalition to make the ultimate, untimely sacrifice.