Monday, 24 October 2011

Photo Gallery

Khadeja (taken by Leslie)
Men in the village(taken by Leslie)

Studying outside

16th October - Ashrafia, AC resource centre and our last night in the villages

After our visit, the teachers lead us in to an orchard where they have spread out carpets and cushions and prepared fresh tea and apples and pears form their trees.

Afghanistan is a never ending eating experience at times….and we are whisked off from here to Ashrafia Boys School….where lunch is waiting!

Ashrafia Boys School is next to Tarusht Girls School. AC is funding a Resource Centre with Science Lab, Computer suite, library and meeting hall for the two schools to share. We saw the building nearly completed. We are also funding a new girls school and refurbishment of the old girls’ classrooms at Tarusht.

The boys and teachers were ready to greet us and we shared an incredibly lively and happy lunch with about 30 male teachers. We sat on red carpets and cushions, which the boys had brought in from home, and were served plates of local delicacies…including the baby sparrows, complete with heads on, which they had hunted in giant nets up the rocky ravines that morning . So much food. Luckily enough men there to hide the fact that we didn't eat so much!

A massive character with wild eyes and a tilted turban, came to greet us. I had met him last time. He wanted us to go and ride on his Buzkashi horse with him! The Headmaster took my photos of my family and asked to keep them for his wall so he wouldn’t forget us!

On to Tarusht Girls School. We walked through a hole in the wall and into the courtyard and were swamped by hundreds of girls, singing and throwing flowers at us and giving us scarves. The choir sang, and then there were speeches and then we were completely crushed by girls crowding around our table as we were given tea. Couldn’t see beyond the hundreds of intense faces…wondered if we would actually cause a stampede.

Fabulous to see the huge new buildings going up and the new school taking shape. V exciting . As I looked over the wall, I saw the girls going home, their burkhas billowing in the evening breeze , beside the river in this beautiful corner of the world, so very far from my home.

From Tarusht, our drivers took us even further up in to the hills, on roads made of rock and dust , with steep drops in to the valleys below. We stopped right up in the heights near the Anjoman Pass and walked up on to the peaks , from where we could look out for miles beyond. It was dusk and the cool evening was drawing in and a strong bitter wind was gusting through the mountains.

We came across a shepherd’s hut and a mother with four young children-two beautiful girls with the greenest eyes and two cheeky little boys who were playing rough and tumble in the dust. The girls were shivering in the cold. We emptied out all the warm clothes we had and gave them to the family and then watched the boys putting on layer upon layer of socks and giggling in the dust.

As we left, one of the girls came up to the car and I thought she was going to ask us for something …..but she just asked us to stay the night with them and share their supper. Drove off, watching this beautiful girl standing in that bleak place. No chance of an education…her mother was married off age 10 and never went to school and the same fate probably awaits her. It is such an impossibly tough world out here.

Our last night in the villages is spent in a poor community. We are joined by the entire village- everyone has come to pay their respects and we feel so sorry for the family, who end up feeding more than 70 people. 2 goats(whose heads lie on the ground and make us feel deep guilt!) and several guinea fowl are slaughtered .We make sure we leave a present to help.

We are so tired and the evening goes on for hours as the women are in no hurry to leave us. It is hilarious as we discuss their lives and loves and a widow tells us of all the young men she lusts after and all the old men she doesn’t want .! Nothing held back here and we hear all the village gossip.

As we all sit there , one of the girls suddenly throws herself to the floor and has an epileptic fit. It is a reminder of how tough the lives are here. I am sure she doesn’t receive the correct treatment and isn’t monitored as she would be here.

Finally we are left alone and have a hilarious time clambering over walls in the moonlight looking for a non existent latrine ! Not much sleep.

16th October - Visiting Community Based School, Ashrafia Boys School and Tarusht School

Bad night. Had a crying baby in the room and all sorts of people coming in and out throughout the night. Love the mornings in these places. The moon still up over the mountains. Mother carrying huge piles of sticks and casting them into a hole in the ground where she is making her morning fire to heat the water. The father is letting the cows out , the daughters help with the breakfast and the sons fetch the water. Then the mother asks me to take a photograph of her with her husband. This simple act of affection is a first for me to see in Afghanistan. The two of them stand side by side, smiling and laughing and the light catches their faces. I have the most beautiful photographs of them. I shall keep them and not show them to anyone but them, but they will always be a moment of hope and happiness in a place where in the last 27 years of travelling, I have not one photograph of a man and woman like this. I almost envy them this happiness.

Daughter and her father below

Breakfast was a feast and it made me laugh when the mother told me that she gets her recipes from the television. Though we seem to be in the furthest most primitive corner of the world, the outside world is definitely creeping in. The walnut milk is laced with sugar, the giant rounds of flat brown bread are fresh and warm, straight from the bread oven and there is local honey and bowls of walnuts to have on the bread and fresh trout plucked from the river that morning. Acts of generosity and care and it is hard to leave these very special people. Feel a very strong bond with them and find it very sad to say goodbye.

We are visiting another Community Based School which AC is funding and like all these schools, it is remote. There is a small doorway in an adobe wall, which we clamber through. We are greeted by teachers with presents of scarves and flowers and garlands. This school is thriving and already has classes up to grade 6 and will soon be recognized by the Ministry of Education as an official Primary School. They need a building . There are 300 children attending and only 2 classrooms. These are dark and small and when you step outside of them , you enter a courtyard full of children studying under the Autumnal trees in the soft morning sunshine. Above the courtyard are 2 more levels, and on each level there are more open air classrooms. Everywhere the chant of children. Alphabets, poems and the Qu’ran. We visit every classroom. The teachers then present us with a letter, signed with signatures and thumbprints, asking for official recognition and a proper building .

This will be a priority for 2013.

15th October - Seeing fundraising in action

Woke to another beautiful day, more walnut milk and trout! Said fond farewells and walked into the village square to await the drivers. Spent a wonderful half hour talking to the villagers, watching life go by and looking at the incredible scenery. The village mosque is very old and has beautiful carved wooden balconies. Opposite is a tiny shop, also of wood, the typical Afghan double doored, lock up spaces , with no room to stand, and all jammed high with wares. Outside the shop an old man hugs his grandchildren, 5 turbaned men stand by their truck loaded high with potatoes and a farmer walks by with his goat. I could have stayed there happily, but with the arrival of the drivers, all the men of the village came up to us and shook our hands and wished us goodbye and we sped off down the valley.

We drove to Annoy School, which is our priority build for 2012. Over 700 children are studying outside or in ruined classrooms. I am determined to raise the funds to build this school. Then on to Khadeja Kubretal, the girls school I visited with our donor last year. A huge building project is now underway thanks to some wonderful funding we received and so exciting to see a new school going up. 1100 girls will have a school by the Spring time. I went and met the girls who are all thrilled.

Annoy School

Studying outside

Khadeja Kubretal School

The others went ahead to interview the girl for the film. Mukhtar and I drove another beautiful route to a Community Based School we are running. So remote and set up so that children from this area could go to school. All the main schools are too far away for them to walk to. We left the cars and walked down a steep hill through a quiet mud brick village and down into a flat area shaded by blazing golden sycamores. There, on the wooden balcony of the village mosque, was the Community Based School we are funding . The village provides either rooms in the mosque or in a local home to act as the base for the community school. AC then funds the teacher salary and the books and admin and provides teacher training and for a cost to us of just £35 a year for each child, these children can go to school. And there they sat, chanting the alphabet in one class and drawing in another.

Community based School on the wooden balcony of the Mosque

We went on afterwards to another CBS, far away from this one beside the river , over a very worrying wooden bridge. Climbed through a wooden doorway and came to Viruf CBS and more classes of children. It is so rewarding to see the project in action.

On again to another AC School in Worsaj, where we went to watch a teacher training programme we are funding, which is run by SCA. 27 primary school teachers, including teachers from the CBSs had come along for training . They were all busy making teaching aids for their schools. The room was buzzing with activity and the walls were cluttered with drawings, teaching aids and posters on the Millennium Development Goals . Again really good to see the project in action and to meet some of the teachers benefiting from the funding.

We were given lunch in the school, made by all the teachers—more rice and huge chunks of meat and so generous but oh how I longed for vegetables!

The girls finished the filming in the afternoon. They had their story and had managed to film without ever showing the face of our girl. Night was closing in and it was getting really cold. Began to feel rather bleak, but we were in for a fantastic evening . Drove off to stay in a village with the security chief of the area. The family were so lovely and the house immaculate and cosy. They were the most beautiful looking family with 9 children . The mother had such a serene face and when we talked to her, she told us how she had been so lucky in her life. She had had a love marriage, not an arranged one and had married at 16, when her husband was 18. She said she still loved him and he was a wonderful husband to her . I cannot tell you how good it was to hear this after all the tragic stories we had listened to! We were looked after so well and had the most delicious supper of fresh pumpkin cooked in sugar and yoghurt, huge bowls brimming with hot noodles and beans, chutneys, rice and for pudding , pistachio milk pudding , fresh watermelon and pears. All so spoiling . Wonderful talks in the light of the hurricaine lamp and felt so close to them all.

14th October - Picnic in the mountains

Clear blue skies and relief that the night was over. Walnut milk tea for breakfast- a strange flavour of milk/walnuts and salt which may sound delicious but is a tough one to drink every morning as sometimes the milk is a little rancid and there is a strong salty taste!

Autumn in the Hindu Kush with all its colours and the wintry light on the mountains. We went to see a girl in her home to hear about her education and what it has done for her. Many girls gathered and each wanted to tell their stories and there we sat, listening to tales of early marriage, being pulled out of school, becoming mothers so very young. One girl had to get married at 14 when her father died leaving no male relative to look after her, her mother and her sister. She was never able to go back to school. She had her first child at 16 and has had 3 more since and now she says, because of the children, her husband is beginning to show her some love. Her mother was with us in the house and I tried to imagine what a dreadful decision it must be to make your daughter marry so young . No choice in it, she had to do it to save the family.
What came across so much was their absolute desire to have an education. Some of the girls, when banned from school, had escaped their homes and gone anyway without their parents even knowing. The value of education here is so high, I never realised before quite how much it means to these girls to go to school.
Afternoon off and a delightful picnic in the hills beside the lake. It is a paradise here and totally untouched by tourism. We had the whole place to ourselves. Bleached soft sandy shores and a deep green lake surrounded by mountains . The men laid out carpets, collected firewood and boiled up vast cauldrons of rice and green tea. I lay back and slept in the sunshine .
We spent the night in another village, arriving after dark. Small children ran to greet us and took my hand and helped me through the dark streets. It was a totally different evening to the one before. The people were so gentle and kind and polite and the children so well behaved. We had so many in there with us and the children sat looking at our photos and playing noughts and crosses with us. More meat and rice and huge plates of food for us. All so generous ...but hard to eat such volumes!

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

13th October - N...'s story

N…'s house was at the very top of the village, high up overlooking the mountain ranges beyond and the valleys far below. Rain began to fall as we arrived at her home. A chill cutting wind blew a reminder of the winter ahead. We received a wonderful welcome as we climbed through the wooden door and into the courtyard. We were taken into a room where we sat with the women. N… and her sister so beautiful and immaculate, dressed in clothes decorated with embroidery, done by hand.

N… had been at school as a child and had loved being able to study. It all came to an end when a girl at her school ran off with a boy from her village. The incident caused outrage and many parents withdrew their daughters from school. N… was one of those and she was forbidden from returning to school. At 14 her parents married her off to her cousin despite knowing that he was an opium addict. She led an awful life and had children very young. Her husband took drugs in front of her and her children and he often beat her. Eventually he joined the military and she begged her parents to take her back home and to let her go to school again. They relented and she was allowed to attend school once more. She is much older than all the girls in her class, but she doesn’t care. She loves being back and is planning to be a teacher, to have her own salary and to be more independent. The good result from her harsh life story, in her own words, is that her beautiful younger sister will be given some say in whom she marries and will never have to suffer as she has.
Listening to these stories, it makes me so ashamed that I haven’t learned the language yet. There are so many stories behind the lives of these men and women and I feel I have barely scratched the surface.
That night we stayed in a village house. They prepared great plates of rice and meat, chutneys, naan, a sweet pistachio pudding and fragrant fresh pears from the orchards. Far too much and as ever so generous.
We went to the women's quarters, usually a really good experience, but this seemed different. The women were quite aggressive and wanted gifts and it all felt very unpleasant and not good for Amy’s first night. There was a bad atmosphere and the room felt very bleak and we all felt rather ill at ease and far from home and insecure as we spread out our sleeping bags on the floor and tried to sleep.

Monday, 17 October 2011

13th October - From Faiabad to Worsaj

Drove from Faizabad to Worsaj, a spectacular route into the Hindu Kush. Stopped along the way to meet Mukhtar, our guide for the visit, and to have a picnic breakfast in the mountains. Rugs and carpets were laid out and we had tea and fresh local pears overlooking the river below. Arrival to School built by AC a few years back for 1100 girls.

They were all out waiting for us, long columns of girls of every age, some in burkhas, most in white scarves. As we got out of the cars, the head master greeted us and then boomed instructions out over his megaphone. The girls all clapped and as we walked through the pathway of cheering faces, some came out from the crowds and put garlands over our heads and gave us bunches of plastic flowers. We greeted every one of them...they had been waiting for 3 hours for us. Then had to give speeches and a choir came and sang the traditional welcome songs for us.

(student enjoying receiving a pencil gift from 10x10 in the classroom)

The purpose of this visit is to see the schools and the Worsaj Education Project in action and also to talk to girls about how education has changed their lives. Mukhtar had asked girls to write in their stories if they were interested in taking part and we were given their letters to read. They were so moving.
The first girl we visited who had written in was N.... We walked through the villages to get to her house. Still always struck by the beauty of this place, however often I visit; it never fails to make an impression. Hard to describe what it feels like to walk through these villages, on dusty pathways between the high adobe walls, past wooden doorways, streams, children collecting water, men on donkeys or donkeys carrying vast loads, women in burkhas.

More blog coming soon, when Sarah’s internet access is up and running.

From Kabul to Faizabad - 12th October 2011

At last the team are together, Amy Leslie and Zari.   
Security at Kabul airport is a farce. We were body searched and had all our bags opened but they never searched the cars and Leslie took her bag through unchecked. Boarded the UN flight and had a huge journey across Afghanistan. Flew over deserts and mountains on landscapes untouched by time. We sped on over stark ravines and sand smothered hills with tiny villages perched impossibly on the slopes in areas starved of colour, bleached by the drought.

First stop Mynamar, a city seemingly cut off from the outside world where Leslie spent 2 years setting up a women’s radio station. Then a long haul to Mazar, and on to Kunduz before our final stop in Faizabad. Too late to drive to Taloqan, we are staying in Faizabad , all sleeping in a room together with a pomegranate tree outside our window.

Thursday, 13 October 2011

Sarah sent a text last night saying “Amazing flight, rather like a bus, stopping in Myanman and Mazarr to let people on and off – flying over deserts, snowy mountains and oases” – she will text when she can and update the blog when she gets an internet connection – Paula

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Back in Kabul - 10th October 2011

Sitting in my room looking out over the barbed wire to Kabul and cloudy grey skies. Evening rush hour chaos and din. It is great to be back.

I am here with Amy who is here from the States .We arrived here yesterday, tired and bedraggled after delayed flights, as dusk and drizzle descended on Kabul. Received a rapturous welcome from the Afghan drivers and guards and Gul Noor, the wonder cook , whom I have known for 10 years and who fed me up after my first food deprived visit to Afghanistan in 2002. Immediately whisked off by Jorgen, Olympia and Rafat, who all work for Swedish Committee and taken for a lavish buffet at the Serena Hotel. Built by the Aga Khan and now a 5 star hotel, the Serena lies behind blocks of concrete, massive iron doors, layer upon layer of security gates and checkpoints. A haven for expats in a city of fear, despite all its protective layers, it has been the target of several murderous attacks and rpg (rocket propelled grenade) attacks. It offers luxury and has a gym, swimming pool and countless other facilities. Some business men who come to Afghanistan never leave its walls, they arrive in Kabul, hold all their meetings in the Serena and then leave. (probably very sensible!)

Amy and I had meetings all morning. Heard about progress at SCA....women now sharing the same dining room as the men—though they still sit fairly separately....and the first group of female school consultants ever to go out of Kabul without being accompanied by male relatives went all the way to Karachi. This is a massive step forward and when I met the women, they seemed so happy to have had the opportunity and so unlike some of the many women you meet, who are too timid to speak to men or strangers.

On to the cricket camp

The MCC Foundation has sponsored us to hold the first ever cricket camp to train men and women to be professional coaches. There is not a single professional cricket coach in Afghanistan. After some massive organisational headaches and some interesting last minute panics, it all came together today. Ten teachers from all over Afghanistan, from schools where we have built MCC funded pitches, came to Kabul for the 3 day coaching. 14 men and women chosen by the Afghan Cricket Board also joined the camp.

Four coaches from Cricket 4Change UK came over to do the coaching. The weather messed up the first day! The rain had made the new cricket stadium ground too wet for play. So instead, they all met at the Afghan Cricket Board where they had theory lessons all morning and then went out on to the roof to practice their new skills.

We went to watch. It was a small moment of history. The first ever camp to train coaches and, as was pointed out, probably the first ever camp in any sport to create professional coaches in Afghanistan. An emotional moment!
The enthusiasm was remarkable and so heartening and they all got dressed into kit provided by the MCC . There were 3 women there, who I have met before and they are all part of the Afghanistan Women’s Team and one is the founder of female cricket in Afghanistan. They were so delighted to be part of the group of first ever pro coaches in Afghanistan.

The aim is for them all to pass ICC Level 1 coaching this time round and then to go onto Level 2 next year. The teachers will return to their communities able to teach their school children as well as the local people. It was a fantastic afternoon! Tomorrow they will be at the Stadium for another day of coaching and I will be heading up to the North of Afghanistan.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Good Friday; 22nd April 2011

We left at first light, with the moon still up over the mountains and said fond farewells to our hosts to start the beautiful journey back to Taloqan. We made it by 8am and met up with Gareth and Jane. They had done a remarkable 2 days of teaching the teachers and headmasters of the region and had a fascinating and fulfilling time. It was great to see them again and to hear about all they had achieved. We left Taloqan and drove straight to Faizabad to the centre for disabled children, where we were to stay and await the morning flight following day.

We had to eat in the bazaar, which was right beside the mosque. I would rather have gone without food as was still very nervous about what might happen in the US. The call to prayer took on a sinister tone for me now and I felt very foreign and very much a sitting target! But there is no denying Faizabad’s beauty and fascination and as we walked home through the bazaars, it began to work its magic and calm my nerves.

We lay outside on cushions as dusk fell and the electricity never materialised. We ate our supper under the stars on our last night in Afghanistan, with no news of the outside world, wondering whether or not the burning had just taken place. Slept on the floor again and with all 4 of us trying to sleep in a tiny room, not much of a night and lay awake for the now eerie calls to prayer.

I spent my last morning in the classroom of the disability centre with 5 deaf children and two blind boys and a child with Down’s Syndrome. We had such fun! They copied a poster made by children at the Arbour Vale Special Needs School in Slough. They each drew round their hands and coloured in the shapes, which I then cut out. They made a huge poster of a peacock with hand feathers. The determined looks on their faces and huge efforts at concentration as they used the glue stick and finished their work was incredibly touching and a reminder of how the simple things in life can often bring the most joy!

Just before we took off from Faizabad in the safety of the UN plane, I received a message that the Pastor had been locked up and a disaster averted. I could have happily killed him! I said my farewells at Kabul to Ollie , Gareth and Jane - the teaching workshops would continue in Kabul, but I had to be home for Easter day.

I had 4 hours to wait for my Dubai flight and still nearly managed to miss it. I sat beside a Hazara who is now living in Australia and had such a very poignant conversation. He had fled Afghanistan during the Taliban regime. Thousands of Hazaras were massacred and those that survived were denied jobs and beaten up when they ventured out on the streets. He had been given asylum in Australia and had just visited his mother and family for the first time in 11 years. As he flew away from Kabul, he knew that he might never get back to his homeland again. He could see that there was no possibility of return and no future there for his children. I know how strong the communities and family units are in Afghanistan and it is devastating that so many thousands of families have been torn apart by the war.

I landed at Heathrow at 6 am and was totally overjoyed at the surprise of 2 sons standing at the meeting point to collect me - so emotional. As soon as we got home, the whole family went to church on a sunny Easter morning. The sermon was based on the theme of Freedom from Fear. I sat there feeling free from fear for the first time in some days. I was completely overwhelmed by the feeling that I no longer had to be afraid and by the gratitude that I live in England, which for all its faults, offers me a safe place to bring up my children with freedom from fear. I reflected on all those people I had met, on the Hazara, on the lives of all those across the world who live in fear all the time. The blossom was out in the churchyard. I walked around my garden alone. So much sunshine and green and buttercups in solid yellow on the fields - everything so beautiful and so safe - so very very good to be back home.

Tuesday, 3 May 2011

21st April 2011

Rough night - eaten alive by bed bugs as I hadn’t left room in my suitcase for a sleeping bag! We set off early, driving through the ancient villages and hills alongside the river towards the Mian Shar valley and a village called Kimyan, where we are running a Community Based School. On arrival, we laid out rugs by the river and breakfasted on green tea, freshly baked naan and the most delicious fried trout which the women had cooked very early in the morning. Soon we were surrounded by a crowd of children who were walking to the school. The Governor of Worsaj came to greet us and thanked us for all our work. We had met him on our last visit and been very impressed by him.

The CBS is held in an old house and as we approached we were met by the symphonic sound of children chanting the alphabet. I love these schools. So simple, held in tiny rooms in the village, packed with kids who would have no education without this initiative. I am sure it is the way forward for achieving the goal of getting all children to school by 2020.

On to the main village of Mian Shah and the Asrafia Boys School, where we interviewed pupils in tents, filled with mosquitoes and dust where they study each day. The Bibi Zainab Girls School is next door which needs more classrooms and has no furniture, with all the girls sitting on the floor.
We drove back to Bibi Ayisha and spent the next few hours, seeing all the girls and visiting them in the science lab. It is remarkable how far things have come-these girls used to study outside. It really is a beautiful school with so much hope. Their twin school had made them hundreds of mini white boards, one for each pupil, and they all wrote messages on them in English for donors and pupils back home.

We raced on up the mountain to Tarusht and its village girls school. It is just the most beautiful village, full of cherry blossom and bright green fields of wheat, right up in the heights so that the views to all the other Worsaj valleys are magnificent.

We went through a door in a wall and there were hundreds of girls standing in line waiting for us. I was totally weighed down by garlands and presents by the time I reached the school at the top of the hill.

This is the next school on our list to build and we already have the funding, so they are all overjoyed. There are over 1000 girls and just a handful of classrooms which are in disrepair.

The good will at that school was overwhelming. We sat in the courtyard surrounded by all the teachers and children, giving and listening to speeches. The choir sang.

There was total exuberance and joy there and after the ceremony, we were completely mobbed as we walked to the headmasters house for lunch. Hundreds of women in burkhas came out to greet me and took my hand and dragged me in to a dusty courtyard and up some steps into a traditional mud bricked house.
I counted 44 of them squashed in to the room around me. Burkhas were discarded and suddenly those anonymous blue veiled ghosts, became beautiful, lively young women, full of curiosity about me and my life. I passed around photos of my children and never got them back. They just wouldn’t part with them. Copious amounts of rice and mutton were brought in and fresh yoghurt. The headmaster popped his head around the door every now and then with a huge smile, triggering the women to disappear under their sea of burkhas.

Saying goodbye was a whole village affair and I became lost in a mist of giggling blue women. Now under their burkhas, I could identify only a few through those imprisoning grids, their characters too large to be hidden away. Hugged and kissed, I retreated to my car and waved goodbye to these wonderful people, feeling totally overjoyed to have come to this place and so happy that we are building a school here.

Some of the villagers and the rest of our entourage-which always grows when we do these travels, decided that we should have a cup of tea up in the most beautiful area of the mountains. So we went with these men-school consultants, teachers, district education authorities and some, who to this day I am not sure I know who or why they were with us- up the rough track on a calm, clear evening towards the mighty snow ranges of the higher Hindu Kush. At last we stopped and climbed on to a plateau, where the rugs were laid out and we sat down to a panoramic view on the top of the world - so happy to be there.

Utterly beautiful and totally lost in time, the only sound was the hooves of the donkeys bearing their arduous loads back to the villages below. In the distant valleys you could see the ancient ploughs and brightly clad girls working in the fields. We walked and walked and it became more and more beautiful - it was so good to walk ….we are so well cared for here and get fed all day by such generous hosts. It was just lovely to stretch legs and walk in this stunning place.

On our way home, as dusk was falling and the villages were lit up by their hydroelectric bulbs, we spotted a school with no roof and classrooms demarcated in the dust outside this shell of a building. We decided to have a look as I said we had to put the school down on our list. I had noticed it earlier with so many children outside. We crossed a bridge on foot as the road was too narrow for our car. Climbed over the stone school wall and dropped down into its grounds. The whole building was falling down and the classrooms were open to the skies above and absolutely hazardous with broken beams and debris poised to fall into the classrooms below. As always happens, the headmaster magically appeared within seconds of our arrival and villagers turned up to tell us what had happened to the school. A local politician had promised to rebuild it prior to the elections ….but once elected, he had done nothing and because he had made a pledge to do it, no one else had helped. The irony was that the school in all its appalling decay, had been given the most spanking new, beautifully built latrine block by a German aid organisation. So here we were in classrooms with no ceilings and hundreds of children studying outside, with the best loos available to man …. nowhere to study, but luxurious loos!---pretty much sums up the haphazard aid in Afghanistan!

I am determined to build all these schools and to provide all the children in this region with safe schools and good teachers. It is a massive task but in a place like this in Afghanistan-where as many girls as boys come to school and thousands are being educated every year, it makes such great sense and we have to manage it some how.

With these thoughts swimming around my head, we arrived back at Tarusht late at night. The stars were so bright and the moon lit up the valleys and men in turbans were waiting for us in the square. They welcomed us in to their home and we sat in a huge long room on red carpets and soon about 20 male guests arrived. They were wonderful company and very light hearted and great fun to be with. But the sadness was that they told me how 80% of the men in the village end up going to Iran as illegal workers on construction sights, living in appalling conditions, in order to earn $1000 a year to send back to their families. There is so little work here other than farming and I hope that some time in the future we can help to develop some kind of job opportunities here.

We had yet another feast-which began with a speciality of massive plates of rice cooked in milk with salt and sugar, served with a huge trough in the middle of the rice which was filled up with oil!

A great delicacy, but as a starter on a well full tummy, a bit daunting. Copious plates of food followed, as always so incredibly generous.

Felt so happy with them all, but then received news from England that the US pastor who had been at the burning of the Qur’an which triggered the deaths of the UN workers, was planning to burn another copy on Good Friday. The Courts were trying to ban him but it looked as if he would go ahead. My guide told me that if he did, then the back lash would be far worse than the first time and that our lives as well as his would be in real danger. Today was Thursday and he was planning to go ahead next morning in the US. This meant we would be travelling to Taloqan City and would arrive during Friday prayers at the Mosque—just when the Mullahs would show their anger.

I went from such happiness to real deep fear in those few seconds. Ollie was great and we made a plan to leave at dawn and go straight to Faizabad and meet the teachers there, to return to Kabul if we could on the Saturday. In Faizabad we wouldn’t necessarily be safer than Taloqan, but at least it has a small runway which could offer possibility of rescue if things got really nasty. I really believed that if the pastor went ahead, we would be in the most horrible situation.

Sleeping that night was not easy. I had to climb a ladder into a small room where I slept on the floor and 4 of the family clambered on to cushions beside me. The downside to hydroelectric is that the mother wanted the bulb on all night! I got bitten again and was lying awake worrying away about the security situation. The irony was that if anything went wrong I knew I was in the safest place, and that once we left the next day, we would lose that security. But we had to get to the teachers and also had to try and get home.