Nad-e Ali blog 9: Deal or no deal?

The time sure flies by. Mid-May already. I'm up pretty early in the mornings - especially as it's now getting really hot (low-40s at the moment and due to go to the low 50s! And yes, that's centigrade). I try to squeeze in a visit to the base's gym, which is outdoors, before it's hot enough to cook my brain. Some decades ago there used to be adverts for the Charles Atlas Fitness Program (No, I'm not that old:

my grandfather told me about them) where a hapless 9-stone weakling on the beach had sand kicked in his face by some muscle-bound hunk.

Mercy, it's not hard to feel like that 9-stone weakling when visiting the gym here. Some of these 42 Commando guys are seriously well-built and seem to be able to bench press cement mixers. I mulled over the idea of photographing a "Hunks of 42 Commando" calendar. I can think of one or two women who would love it. One or two guys as well..... ;-

The stabilisation business has been very brisk the last couple of weeks. And, happily, and almost unusually, we have made some real progress. The opening of a clinic in one community last Saturday was the result of 7 months of to-ing and fro-ing, negotiating, cajoling, persuading, arguing and herding cats. But we did it! A grand opening is planned by the District Governor in a few weeks time. This will be only the 4th health care centre in the entire district so it feels like a great achievement. And with two schools now looking good to open with the new Afghan school year in September, there is a strong sense of things slowly coming together. But we all still hold our breath for the start of the fighting season. The poppy harvest is almost gathered and it will be another couple of weeks before we see whether the bad boys took enough of a pounding last winter to keep them out. Or, at least, are less capable than they were in October. Time will tell. Fingers crossed please, people.

Talking of the District Governor, the DG....  if you have followed this column you may have read  that, in another life, I used to be the Deputy Governor of Bermuda. Back in those days I had a baseball cap for the weekends which had "DG" embroidered on it in big green letters. I thought I should gift this to the DG for Nad-e Ali district. With a huge grin he whipped off his turban and, voila, my old DG baseball cap had one new owner. I thought it a fitting rest home. From Bermuda to Helmand. Not much difference eh?

I have said before that life can be surreal here. A village shura the other day, attended by the DG, ended in some acrimony with lots of yelling and shouting. All quite Afghan. But after decades of fighting and mistrust, getting a community talking again amongst themselves can be the most important achievement. So yelling and shouting is not too bad. The DG and I left to mull over what next. Sitting in the tent of the local commander of the Afghan National Army, the DG flipped on the TV set and was soon engrossed in the local version of "Deal, No Deal". 

There is something totally surreal in trying to discuss how to help an Afghan village whilst musing over whether the female contestant should accept the 50,000 Afghanis (that's money not people) on offer. The DG's conclusion was that we shouldn't agree with what the village was asking. Actually he said "the hell with them" and took another handful of excellent pistachio nuts - which accompany any Afghan meeting. And yes, he thought that the contestant should refuse the deal. She did. And lost.

Hunks, clinics, heat, schools, baseball caps. Life eh? Tsk. Deal or No Deal?