"Unfortunately," the Oxfam report stated, "this distinction has been severely blurred to the point of being unrecognizable to many Afghans, including AOG. "(T)he use of soldiers and heavily protected contractors to implement PRT and other reconstruction and development projects, particularly those which serve counterinsurgency objectives, has also blurred the line between aid agencies and the military."
Dr. Hasan added, "To those, like the U.S., who say that an area has to be "secured' first by the military before an aid project can be set up, I say this is not acceptable. It is not acceptable to the community. If it is done that way it creates a fragile, unsustainable sort of security. It is better if people negotiate directly with the Taliban for security."
Describing an approach that would leave General Petraeus, President Obama and nearly all of Congress speechless, the aid director told of his experience in Urozgan Province, where Taliban activity prevented him from starting an aid project.
Instead of waiting for the U.S. to send in an air strike, Hasan said his team met with the Taliban leaders and explained what they wanted to do. "Eventually they told us, "Please come and work here.'" The doctor paused briefly and then added, "It is not possible, ever, to first bombard and then send aid. It will not work. Our medical services are open to all. Are Taliban not human beings?"
In remarkably frank words for an NGO aid official, he continued, "Stop funding militias. They are not useful. They bring insecurity rather than security. I will tell you that for security, people are happy with the Taliban more than the militias."
Voicing an opinion heard in other Kabul conversations, Hasan added, "There is even talk now that the U.S. "uses' the insurgency to create a demand from Afghans to stay permanently."
Several days after talking with Dr. Hasan, a visit to an IDP camp exposed another cost of the war.
My guide and interpreter for the visit was Dr. Rafiullah Ahmadzai, a medical doctor who earned his degree at Kabul University during Afghanistan's civil war in the mid-90's.
On the dusty, rocky ride out of central Kabul to the camp, the doctor reminisced about the changes he's seen in Kabul over the years. In the last decade his city's population had grown from one to five million. In the mid 20th century it was a small city known for its shops, architecture and charm, a place where people from several countries in the region went to vacation.
What was one thing he thought his country could really use help with? "Much more education for the Afghan National Army and the police," the 33 year-old pediatrician replied.
For himself, he said he very much wants to go to the U.S. to further his education with an advanced degree in hematology or public health, adding that his country has a high rate of blood cancers and infectious diseases.
Talk of study abroad ended abruptly when we reached the camp, a monochromatic scene of tents and mud huts extending to a horizon brought up short by the dried mud, smoke, car exhaust and reportedly, the highest amount of airborne fecal matter of any city in the world. Directly across the partially-paved, almost two-lane road, the U.S. was constructing a behemoth of a military base, bordered by a handsome 12 foot-high wall of fabricated stone.
Established three years ago, Dr. Ahmadzai explained the camp housed about 700 families, ranging in size from five to between 10 and 15 people each.
Home for 16 people. Photo: Mike Ferner
The first person he introduced was Ismail, a tall man of 45 years, sitting on a backless canvas stool, holding a stout cane, blind in both eyes. Asked what caused his blindness he answered simply, "the fighting." One of his daughters was born missing a kidney and congenitally blind. His wife and their three children live in the camp as they have done for the last two years.
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