Who Do You Think You Are? – Some Reflections : Nuzhat Shahzadi

I was ready to move to Afghanistan. The conflict situation in Sri Lanka had escalated by mid 2007. LTTE repeatedly tried to launch attacks on Colombo. The airport was closed down for days over safety concerns. Our security warden was in constant touch with us. I remember, I used to go to bed in my jeans and shirt, kept my handbag near the pillow with my passports and important documents. I was always prepared. In case . . .


My friends, nationals and internationals, were sad at the news of my departure. My time spent in Sri Lanka was memorable.


The war in the eastern and northern provinces at times seemed surreal though Colombo was targeted often. The sudden sparks of normalcy made us forget the war, in the moments we lived. Whenever the threats were at lull, we were back to our favorite joints, familiar roads that led to the Fashion House shop, Odel––a retail store that had almost everything. We could try out clothes and trinkets and shoes––whatever! Fashion House was a garment factory outlet––we bought anything and everything we fancied. No option for trying out the merchandise. It was like a voyage into the realm of fashion . . .


A few blocks from the Fashion House, a tiny bakery sold whole wheat baguette. On weekends that was my favorite walk, about 2 miles from my apartment each way to pick up a freshly baked loaf. The ocean was a 5-minute walk across the street from where I lived. I loved eating at the boutique-Japanese restaurant built on the slope on the narrow alley––the vegetable tempura was amazing!


Joanna, our Representative wanted to meet me––she gave me some genuine advice. She knew how tough Afghanistan was. I was touched.


Luz and Mirabel were our HR officers, and close friends. Mirabel knew about my weakness for Jewelry. She dragged me to Odel and bought a beautiful necklace with a matching pair of dangling ear rings. Sheema was in Child Protection. We had bonded over our mother tongue, Bangla. She was a Malaysian with roots from West Bengal, India. She gave me a black, full-sleeved, embroidered jacket, very suitable for Afghanistan. My heart saddened as the farewell gifts piled up. I cried after I opened the box Lara gave me––inside was a stunning, delicate silver chain with a heart-shaped pendant . . .


Lara, was from Australia. We had an informal “girls’-group.” We partied together, sometimes went to discos or tried the local eateries. She drove a jeep and was our ride, mostly.


“I am driving. No drinks for me!” Lara took her responsibility seriously. She spoke less but always was the heart of our gatherings.



Those times, there were hardly any traffic so late at night. We laughed and sang as we sped through the empty streets in Lara’s jeep. The war ceased to exist . . .


About 2 weeks before departure, I checked into the Cinnamon Grand Hotel. I was booked there when I first arrived in Colombo. And now it was time to say goodbye to the beautiful island that was home for 18 months.


LTTE attempted attacks on the airport. My flight to Afghanistan (via Islamabad) got cancelled, more than once. I was still finishing up at the office––refreshened my “Proms” skills with support from our secretary, Pamela. (For those who are from pre-Proms, era––in very brief, it was the digital system we used to manage official finances.). I informed the Kabul office accordingly. Catherine (Representative) was on travel at the time.


I received an email. It was from my direct supervisor. The language was curt, almost ordered me to hop onto the next flight . . . tried to imply that I was somehow responsible for the delays. I was shocked. And hurt. My spirit dampened.


I showed the message to Mirabel.


“I know how you feel, my friend! Our system has the good, bad and the ugly. Let me handle this,” she said.


True to her words, she sent out a professional communication explaining the situation, copied to the Representatives of both duty stations and the Operations. (By the way, after arriving to the Kabul office, I literally got a 5 minute scanty-briefing from my supervisor. She went on R&R the next morning!) . . .


In my two decades in UNICEF, I have seen abuse of authority, discrimination and unprofessional behavior. Most got away––our systems are enablers . . . I fought back at every instance.


When I traveled to the Country offices while in ESARO and ROSA, I heard tons of voices echoing similar experiences/sentiments. Bad behavior was common. Treating each other with dignity and respect wasn’t normal.


. . . The night before I flew out of Colombo, about 20 friends/colleagues came over for dinner at the hotel. They came to send me away with love.


Next morning, as I was walking towards the boarding gate, someone hollered my name. I turned around. It was Yasmin. She was returning from holidays while I was departing. She almost ran towards me––we hugged.


And from there I headed towards my new adventures in Afghanistan.

You can contact Nuzhat at nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com

Read more articles by Nuzhhat