Kabul approved our move. NYHQ agreed in principle. And we were pulled into a maze of email exchanges. I secretly called it an email war of unprecedented stubborn-bureaucracy. It was rather disappointing. I wished HQ had stronger strategies for Operations staff regarding field missions to war-zones (not sure if this has changed). They harassed me about “footprints”, or in other words, the amount of floor space each staff member is allowed according to their ranks and a formula followed by the UN Secretariat in NY. We had to fulfill various specifications––security of staff was the priority to me. Meeting all requirements and finding an appropriate office to house 35 staff and consultants and assets in a war-torn city in western Afghanistan was next to impossible . . .
“This needs to be made in heaven!” I was exasperated.
I commended NY-operations’ firm loyalty to our protocols . . . but they were out of touch with reality. We lived in a place constantly erupting under bombs and guns, fearful of attacks every moment.
We finally found two big buildings in a large compound. NY refused to approve at first as this was bigger than our requirements. So, I came up with a proposition––rent out the excess space to another UN agency or an International NGO. Use of common services or “joint presence” offices to cut down on costs was becoming a popular concept.
UNDSS inspected and approved the new office-premise. We invited the Herat staff association and our female colleagues to have a final look. Everyone was happy. Our Operations, DD, two senior national staff and I met with the landlord for sealing the deal. He had invited us to his house.
When food was served in large platters, we all sat down on the wall-to-wall carpeted floor. Except us––the three foreign women, all were men. The landlord and his brother joined us. The food was delicious. They had taken care to cook vegetarian food for me. Once again, I was touched by the Afghani hospitality.
“Tashshakur, tashshakur (thank you),” I repeated from time to time as the dinner progressed. On arrival, I had also greeted everyone with “Assalamo Alaikum (peace be on you).”
“Bismillah,” I said as we mouthed the first morsels of food. It charmed my hosts.
Our landlord was a highly respected man in western Afghanistan with political ties. He was influential. Our cordial friendship began.
On Nawruz (first day of Afghani/Persian year) he routinely paid me a visit at the office with packets of sweets for us. One time, he brought a “Tasbih (Rosary beads)” for me from Mecca after performing Hajj (pilgrimage). Though we didn’t accept personal gifts from contractors or partners, I had to accept it. Otherwise, it could have been construed as an insult.
Security situation worsened in Herat and the provinces. One of the schools we had built for girls in a neighboring town (Shindad) was burnt down. Two of our staff members received direct threats from the Taliban. In strict confidentiality, UNDSS investigated the incidents. I received another death threat from the Farah province. We didn’t want local staff to panic. But some national colleagues from various UN-agencies were members of the Area Security Management Team (ASMT) where we analyzed threats and adopted strategies to deal with security challenges . . .
We had teams of local armed guards outside, and unarmed guards within the office premise. The same practice was followed for our guest house. These measures weren’t enough to protect us from attacks.
I needed to speak with our landlord.
The close-door meeting with him was held in my office in the presence of a national staff (interpreter). I was direct––
“I need you to give me your word, sahib,” I said. “No matter what happens, you must ensure that our office, our guesthouse shouldn’t be attacked. We urgently seek your protection.”
Mr. Landlord listened to my passionate plea in silence. I sat waiting while he thought. I knew once he gave his word, it would be for keeps as long as he lived. That was the tradition, the unconditional tribal-promise.
“InshAllah,” he agreed in a firm voice.
“It’s our treaty,” I said.
“InshAllah!” he reconfirmed.
I knew that from then on, we would be safe from stand-off attacks on our premises.
I left Afghanistan at the end of 2010. There was never an attack on the UNICEF office and Guest house in Herat.
. . . I learned recently that the relationship with the landlord and the Herat office had soured over some dispute regarding the lease agreement, etc. However, I will always remember him for the generosity he extended during my tenure in Herat. I felt protected by his promise.
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I loved Nuzhat`s negotiation skills .She understood the cultural aspect of the country.Well written article.
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