Janis nailed it…”Freedom’s just another word for nothing
left to lose.” (Kristofferson and Foster) Crazy as this world gets, those
nine words explain quite a bit.

Americans and our coalition of forces attempt to
“help” Afghans. We want to give them, “something” to lose.
But? What the heck is an Afghan? What do they want? What do they not want? 10
years later, do we even know?

Indulge me while I inject some confusion into our clarity
regarding Afghans. This is a paraphrased version of a Benedictine
Grima tale from her field work. If one desires knowledge about AfPak, particularly the
female’s role, Ms Grima is THE source.

The tale….Two men travel to village 1. While there, they
commit robbery and murder. These crimes are detected by local police. The
police debate their response, and decide to chase the perpetrators.

They enter the criminal’s village (village 2) where locals set
upon the police and kill them. These villagers for whatever reason don’t
appreciate nor require police involvement in their affairs. Villages 1 and 2
are content to solve crimes of any type within their own system of justice. In
response to the police incursion, village 2 blocks outside access to the road
preventing further police/outsider interference.

Up the road a bit, the next village (village 3) hears of this
incident. The road blockage makes them fighting mad. A village 2 v. village 3
mini-war occurs; people die. Why? Village 3 needs that road to survive or,
shoot–some other reason. We don’t and honestly; we can’t know.

The point isn’t “should we” or “shouldn’t we” be here; that’s a
different blog…Fact is we are here.

So let’s do this…Let me take you to a village. You comment
below on how we are going to help….maybe we’ll all learn something.

On the approach to the village we see a few hundred goats and herders.
(When was the last time you saw a herder?) Wild dogs bark our arrival, but
never approach us. We have to walk, just like locals; there are no cars or even
horse drawn carts. There isn’t a cell signal and there hasn’t been one for
miles in any direction. GPS? eh….even satellite navigation is not reliable.

Supplies move on foot. The men and kids seem dirty but not
filthy. There is no electricity or running water. The buildings are all made of
mud bricks and mud stucco. The ground is the same color as the buildings. We
see donkeys, chickens, but no females. Even if we do see a female, she’s
treated as if she’s invisible. Yet, female empowerment is considered critical
to success.

The goats, chickens and orchards tell us these are farming
people. There are no flags that indicate any sort of government building or allegiance.
A pond in the middle of the village isn’t likely potable.
The men wear a loose fitting pantsuit type garment, sandals and a vest. Nobody
wears glasses (or contacts) but always a head covering of some sort.

We’re told the kids don’t go to school. The last teacher was
killed by the Taliban more than 8 years ago. A local leans in and says,
“The Taliban left town as soon as the dogs started barking. You just
missed them.” The closest “city” is three hours away by car. The
information highway is 2,000 years ahead.

I’ve been asked a number of times since the start of the blog; what do you do?

Here is what I do and how it applies to the greater missions in both Iraq and Afghanistan.
I study the people. Mainly the I examine the local populace and I attempt to determine where they are within a spectrum. That spectrum is more of a scatter chart than a left or right bearing, but for the purposes of this blog, left and right suffice.

So let’s use the left as lovers of all things we like. They are pro-govt, they are pro US involvement. These folks require nothing special for them to like us. 

The population residing on the right end–these are the Mountain Dew drinkers within the populace, they are extremists. They do not like us, or their governement. It does not matter why.  No amount of talking will move these people off of their position. There usually aren’t many extremeists, but they do have the greatest impact on “our” mission.

Please understand, the people on the extremist side are just people in terms of how I operate.  I’m not making any value judgements (though it’d be warranted, but we’re not discussing that for now).  Frankly, since I can’t change those guys….and since the military is already focused on them, I ignore them for the most part. 

I working the middle of the crowd.  If i can “give” the commander access to influence the rest of the population–obviously in a way that we think is positive–I consider that success.
This is tricky delicate work that requires quite a bit of experience, dedication, intuition and a mix of skills that isn’t common amongst military folks. 

Frustratingly, within my field, people disagree on how to approach these problems.  Do we study the impact of human trafficking?  Or find ways to get people to beleive in their own government?  Do we study crop rotations and the advantage of water management programs?  Or do we not only train but legitimize the police within the community’s well of influence. Then somone says…it’s all robots.  (BTW, I didn’t make that up…robots).

As a nation we spend billions on aid.  We spent hundreds of million in Haiti before their quake…and yet…it sucked then and sucks now…My job hopefully, is to help increase our bang for the buck.

The Army and State Dept (and other players) have programs and aid systems designed to create a favorable growth environment for crappy places.  Afghanistan is one of those places.  If the program is say?  Free chickens to farmers…don’t you want the farmers to know about and see value in the program?  So do I…you’d be amazed at what doesn’t happen.  I go out and say….”what programs are available to farmers to help you?”

We’d like to hear…”Oh, I talked to the mayor…he told me about several programs that are perfect for me.”  Sadly, usualy the response is…”We hate the mayor, we want the US to take over the country.  We know you guys will do the right things.” 

Ugh, smack face…close notebook…get back on patrol.

We’ve all got journeys in life.  Sometimes we sit down and refuse to play, but that just means your journey ends right there where your butt meets your desitny.  Other take detours they didn’t expect.  Sometimes paths change for 100 different reasons. 

Like most of you, 10 years ago today my path changed.  I was sitting in my cubicle, selling computers on the phone.  The folks on the other end were screaming when they answered–no idea why they answered in the first place.  That’s where I was when I heard.  

Next thing I know like whack-a-mole heads are popping up all over our cubicle farm.  Something was going on…a rumor here, a bit of info there…soon it was confirmed.  Two planes had hit the towers. 

I got up, took off my headset and told my boss Tony, “I have to go to my Army unit, they might need me.” 

I was the first one to arrive, I sat in my truck in disbelief as the first tower fell.  Then the second.  I wondered when the next plane would hit the Sears tower.  I didn’t leave my unit until the next day.  I knew my role in life had changed.  I was like a big goofy irresponsible kid before that.  Hell, for years after I was still like that.  My transition was slow…I still have fun, but it’s different now.  I fight it, but there’s an edge.  I resent that about our foe. 

I type here now in Afghanistan, working, helping, trying to help prevent tragedies like 9/11 from every happening again.  Since 9/11 I’ve spent 50+ months in either Afghanistan, Egypt or Iraq.  I’ve been through a place called CRC 6 times (more than anyone I know).  I’ve spent over a year in the US training for my seperate missions.   I’ve interviewed thousands of Iraqis getting to know them better than nearly everyone you might know.  I’ve read, crikey?  100 books on relevant topics.  I’ve missed my daughter growing up into a beautiful young lady-my heaviest cross.  I’ve had to skip weddings and divorces.  I left my youthful strong body somewhere in the desert. 

All of this because some dudes decided to start a war they could never win.  We had no idea where to find them, or much about Islam or Arabs in general.  We were pissed, we were united, we wanted action. 

Action has been awarded.  First hand knowledge…many bad, evil people; people that want to kill you and your babies have had their lights turned out since then.  It’s been rough on all of us.  The toll isn’t just US dead, it’s our allies in Spain, UK anywhere, where terrorism occurs.  Arms, legs, relationships, peace, too many things to list have been sacraficed since that day. 

There is lots to understand about why we are here (in A’stan) and why we are in Iraq.  The answers are complex and contradictory.  It’s important to remember the sacrafices.  Not just from 9/11, but each day after, for 10 years.  Even today, a bomb in Afghanistan injured Americans.  The fight continues, the sacrafices grow…the heart hardens.  Never forget.