The other side of the story and trusting intuition

I have some amazing friends, some of whom I met while in Peace Corps The Gambia between 2000 and 2002. One of those friends is a girl named A., who was my nearest PC neighbor in The Gambia. After reading this email from her, I asked if I could share it on my blog. Without further ado:

This is an email to share an experience I am going through right now that has shaken my world and the world of countless of others. Many of you probably have read today about the killings of four International Rescue Committee (IRC) workers in Afghanistan. If you haven't, three international aid workers with the IRC and one Afghan worker were ambushed by the Taliban. They were in a marked IRC vehicle driving back to Kabul after visiting a school when they were chased and gunned down. There are stories all over the net including CNN and BBC if you want to read more. Many of you know that I was interviewing for a position with IRC Afghanistan back in March. I was moving through the interview process with a few people who would have been my supervisors in Afghanistan. I had a feeling then that they were going to offer me the position (this feeling was confirmed just two weeks ago when an IRC worker informed me) and I decided I would accept. I started to plan out the details. My brother was going to buy my car and I knew when my last day of work in Zuni would be.

I was filled with anticipation, questions, and of course some fear. But I was certain that I was right for the position (it was a management position for an inclusive education project around the country) and this would be my entry back into international development. I was also so excited to have the opportunity to work with the IRC! It was a Monday when I made the decision I would accept and I knew they would offer it by the end of the week. What many of you don't know is that Monday night (the same day I made up my mind) I had a dream. I dreamt that I was sitting on my living room floor (in the log cabin) with papers all around me, working, when a voice said, "Don't go. You need to stay to write the book. Don't go to Afghanistan." The dream stayed with me throughout the following day. I had no idea what the book was about. Writing a book wasn't in my thoughts of plans, but I was uneasy about the message of Afghanistan.

Later that night I attended a meeting at Western New Mexico University. A group of us started a research project on Teacher Action Research. Our plan was to write/publish a paper. That night at the meeting, one of the professors (J.) said that a colleague was encouraging us to write a book instead of a paper and she asked us what we thought. The group was excited and decided to write a book. At that moment I felt like the world stopped. I couldn't quite feel the floor under my feet and tears filled my eyes. I looked at J., (she was sitting next to me) and I softly said, "I'm not going." She was confused and asked, "What?" I said again, "I'm not going. I'm not going to Afghanistan. I will go to school instead and continue our research." Later that night I burst into tears, unexpectedly, when I told my mom my decision, my final decision. I cried because I wanted to go so badly, but I made a promise to myself years ago that I would never ignore my intuition.

When I heard of the news today that the IRC workers were killed, I called a friend who had worked there until 2006 to see how she was doing. It was then (the papers hadn't released names at this point) when I was told by K. that one of the workers that was killed was a woman, Jackie Kirk, who had interviewed me. K. also told me that the woman they hired for the position I applied for was also killed. The third woman would have been my immediate supervisor. The three of them were doing a site visit at a school that was part of the project. The driver, a 25 year old Afghan male, was killed too.

Since I arrived here in Amherst, I have been thinking that I made a mistake. That I should have gone to Afghanistan and then started this doct. program a few years down the road. Just last night I was regretting my decision and wondered how the project was going. I felt the world stop again today. When I saw the picture on BBC of the wooden coffins that held their bodies, all I could think of was, "One of those coffins holds Jackie. One of those coffins could have been for me." And then I was angry at BBC. Angry that they published that horrible picture. Their parents and loved ones should never have to see (on the internet) a wooden box in the dirt of a foreign country knowing that it held their loved one. And then I thought about my parents. I'm sad that I will never get to meet Jackie. Just last week I was reading something that she wrote and thought how excited I was that I would probably one day get to work with her. I will use some of the manuals and other educational tools that she has developed over the years as I begin this education program and work thereafter. Jackie has worked in numerous countries within the post-conflict and emergency education sector. She was part of a group that developed the INEE standards for International Education which is used around the world. It is odd to know that I will never see the green checkmark next to her name in my skype account again.

In the bigger picture, one needs to step back to see what this means for the country of Afghanistan and of course the rest of the world. The Taliban has proudly accepted the responsibility of their murders. Claiming that they don't support the work of the international community. And of course they wouldn't. The Taliban doesn't want all people to be educated and/or employed. Who would they recruit then? The IRC is suspending their work in Afghanistan. Around 40,000 child will no longer have educational services, even more since others will pull out. Due to an increase of violence around the Kabul area in these past few months, several agencies had begun to pull out. With this attack on the IRC, others will follow suit and leave. I would like to mention that the IRC Afganistan was there since in the 60s, through the Soviet invasion and the rise and fall of the Taliban. They were considered the most respected aid agency in the country and thus sheltered from attacks until now. Several people said to me as I was going through the application process, "It is too dangerous, don't go." My response was, "There are over 10,000 aid workers in Kabul. Only 9 have been killed this year, what are the chances?" Unfortunately, my question was answered and I have learned to never think of the odds as in my favor again.

I suppose I wrote this to you all to give a human element to this news so it wasn't just another depressing headliner that you saw when your BBC homepage opened up today. Or a runner on the bottom of your tv screen when you watched CNN. Or to bring your attention to news you may not have heard today. Sometimes we need moments like this to remind ourselves of the important work that needs to be done and to address the issues that need attention. To stop for a moment and realize how connected we are to one another. To be reminded to never ignore our gut. To change something if we feel like we aren't doing the work that needs to be done. To move in the direction that we feel pulled towards and to act.

Try this for an adrenaline rush

I headed into a new area on my morning run yesterday and quickly decided that I would never be running down that particular street again because of the combined smells of various factory pollutants and sewage. On my way out of the area, I spotted three pretty large dogs on the other side of a ditch from me. They apparently noticed me too and began loping down the ditch and up the other side toward me.

I've encountered quite a few strays on my runs here and none of them has ever seemed very threatening, some, in fact, are so friendly and cute that I am attempted to take them home with me. But as these three got closer, I could see that they were ferocious looking pit bull mixes that wanted a piece of me. They were soon within feet of me when I bent down to pick up an imaginary rock, though there was nothing at my feet but dirty asphalt, and somehow this action alone had them fleeing in the opposite direction, to my surprise and relief.

This brief andrenaline-inducing incident was enough to power me up the next hill and home, resolved to stay off this street for the rest of my running days.

I know what comes next (or drama on public transport part 2 1/2)

So here's the scenario: The 9:40 a.m. bus that I take to work had not appeared at its usual time of 9:50. It was soon 10 and 10:10 and the 5 other people waiting with me at the stop were all visibly annoyed. Some of them had been waiting since 9:30 as they did not realize the schedule had changed for summer in June. The next scheduled bus showed up around 10:25, and before I boarded I knew there was going to be some drama.

Sure enough, the short, wiry, middle-aged woman who boarded behind me, as soon as she hit the steps of the bus, started in on the driver.

Woman, frantic high-pitched voice: What happened to the 9:30 bus? We've been waiting for so long. What's going on here?

Driver: That's not my problem. I don't drive the 9:30 bus.

Woman, now standing near the rear of the bus: We waited for almost an hour! What do you mean it's not your problem? I want an explanation!

Driver, stepping out of his little safety door: If you don't sit down and be quiet this bus isn't going anywhere! I've had enough!

Woman: You tell us what happened and I'll sit down!

Driver: Quiet! I've had enough of you!

This went on for a while longer and I really thought the driver might just get off the bus in a huff and walk away. But they finallly both shut up and we were on our way. If it had been a man yelling at the driver I'm sure they would've been up in each other's faces within seconds and other men would've jumped up to try and pull them away from each other. As she was a woman, the driver satisfied himself with just yelling down the length of the bus.

The term road rage has taken on a whole new meaning here in Turkey. OK, so the previous incident doesn't exactly fit the category, but is somewhat related: rage over not being able to hit the road on time, I suppose.

In another incident, I was heading to the bus station in Yenibosna when I saw a man crossing an onramp almost get hit by a car. The car grazed the man's backside and in the same moment the man whirled about and banged the car's hood with his fist. The car then screeched to a halt, the driver hopped out and the men began flailing at one another. The driver had the man on the ground when passers-by ran up to pull them apart, all the while with the two yelling at each other.

My theory is that Turks, particularly Turkish men, save up all their suppressed anger for the road. While they can be perfectly sane the rest of the time, behind the wheel they become raging madmen, ready to purposefully rear end the car in front of them if it has cut them off or otherwise offended. Almost daily I'll witness men yelling out of car windows at other drivers that have performed some maneuver to bring out the rage or even pulling over to argue and do violence to one another.

This is one of the many reasons that I've chosen not to drive here in Istanbul. In this case I think avoidance is a great coping mechanism. As well, it feels much safer to be riding around in the large rectangular metal cage that is a bus than a tiny passenger vehicle. I can be fairly sure that the bus will win in any clash of the metal deathtraps.

Shell shocked

ADJECTIVE:
1. Suffering from shell shock.
2. Stunned, distressed, or exhausted from a prolonged trauma or an unexpected difficulty.
--The American Heritage Dictionary

While I realize this is a term derived from combat, I think it is entirely fitting to describe how I, and much of Turkey, feel about the events of this past month. Let me first recap what events I'm referring to, in case you've been hiding from the chaos of the world, avoid the news altogether, or have some other legitimate excuse for not knowing:

July 9, Wednesday: Shooting attack outside of US Consulate General, Istanbul
Death toll: 6 (3 policemen, 3 perpetrators)

July 14, Monday: Ergenekon indictment made public
Brief: 2,455-page document charging the Ergenekon crime network of attempting to overthrow the current and former governments through various illegal activities, including assassinations of high-level officials, grenade attacks and social engineering

July 27, Sunday: Dual bombings on shopping street, Istanbul
Death toll: 17, including 5 children
Injuries: 150

July 30, Wednesday: Constitutional Court gives verdict in closure case on ruling party
Brief: The case was filed against the ruling Justice and Development Party (AK Party) back in March by the chief prosecutor of the Supreme Court of Appeals on charges that the party had become a focal point of anti-secular activities, leaving the political and economic arenas in limbo. While the court agreed that the party had engaged in anti-secular activities, it decided that the actions were not serious enough to justify closure, instead ruling that half of the party's Treasury funding be cut.

I don't feel as if I'm absorbing these events anymore, processing them. I have this sense of detachment in which everything has taken on a surreal tinge. The conspiracy theories and counter-conspiracy theories, the scapegoating. . . It exhausts the mind. In seeking to understand the inner workings of this country, I find myself more and more confused, not knowing what or who to believe.

Running inspiration

So I'm in the fourth week of my training program for the Eurasia Marathon. And thus far, it's been going fairly well. I've been caught in one rainstorm, which actually felt quite good since the temps were still pretty warm and had one morning in which I was heading straight into driving winds, but, of course, on the return trip I had the wind blowing me all the way home, almost felt like flying. The days I do my longer runs can leave me quite tired at work, but I think my co-workers have adjusted to my yawning every 5 seconds.

There are some mornings, though, that I really need that extra bit of inspiration to get me out of bed at 5:30 and to keep my legs moving up the all-to-frequent hills of my neighborhood. And this is what does it:

*Rise (actually, every song from Into the Wild)

Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow

Gonna rise up
Burning back holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold

Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
And suddenly swallowed by signs
Lo and behold

Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole

*The Middle, by Jimmy Eat World
*Everything is Everything, by Lauryn Hill
*Try Again, by Aliyah (was also our warm up song for jazz dance class)
*Make You Feel That Way, by Blackalicious
*Real Wild Child, by Christopher Otcasek

. . .And a whole lot more. Some people, who consider themselves purists, run without music all the time, saying that you should enjoy the experience for what it is and tune into the things around you. I've gone with and without. Without music, it's just you, the road, and your mind (and the annoying minibus drivers that slow next to you and honk, the policemen who yell "Why are you running?" the men at the bus station who gawk, etc.). Lately, I haven't been able to shut off my mind and the sometimes self-defeating messages it sends. When I can "zen it" and tune into things around me and the calm of the morning, those are my best runs. However, music gives me another medium to focus on, and beyond that, to provide motivation when it is lacking or waning.

Mini-trail at the ranch and pets in Turkey

On Saturday, a friend and I headed to Göçmen's Ranch in Zekeriyaköy in Sariyer, the northernmost district of Istanbul, to do some horseback riding. The drive to get there took us through some lush forest and I was surprised at how little traffic there was. Though neither of us was sure how to get there, we asked a gas station worker for some directions and for once they were actually accurate!

We brought along my friend's dog, Haydut (Bandit), since he had never seen horses before. Upon his first look at these creatures multiple times his size, he just gawked but didn't bark at all. The ranch had a little cafe, where they claimed to make great breakfasts and said we had to come back earlier next time to partake. The horses were very healthy looking, shiny manes and all. We hopped on and headed down the trail with our guide, Boris. Disappointingly, the trail was pretty short and as we had come in the heat of the day, the horses were rather sluggish. After circling a small pond we doubled back toward the stables. Boris then let us do some rounds in the arena.

Hanging out with Haydut reminded me of how much I want a dog. But I'm really not comfortable with keeping a mid-size dog in our small flat, or really any sized flat for that matter. My friend seems to do fine with Haydut in a flat, but some of her neighbors are really not cool with her having a dog. I think a lot of Turks are just coming around to the idea of keeping cats and dogs as pets, but enough still find the idea distasteful.

I want my future dog to have a yard to run around in. Perhaps this is just an American idea of space and freedom that's been ingrained in me. But is it really fair to a dog to keep it boxed up in a flat for the majority of the day? So this means I will likely never own a pet while in Turkey, at least not one that lives outside of an aquarium.

Morphing back into a morning person

The early morning runs in order to beat the heat began last week. And of course dragging my ass out of bed at 5:20 a.m. wasn't the easiest thing the first few days. My body and mind were just screaming, "Noooooooooooooooooo." However, once I made it outside, the comfortable cool of the morn, the blessed quiet and the sunrise made it feel much better. I'm rediscovering the neighborhood in these early hours and finding streets/areas that I'd never seen before. After getting back and taking an icy cold shower I have an extra few hours before leaving for work. This means I can return e-mails, do laundry, have time for breakfast . . . I'm remembering what it is like to be a morning person and I like the perks.

On Sunday, the day I do my long training runs, I picked up an impromptu running partner on the last third of my 13K run. I heard someone running behind me and this small, stocky guy passed me. I headed down another street and for awhile thought I had lost him, but then when passing by the police station I heard someone coming up behind me again. When I hit the lower road the guy came up beside me and started asking questions. I thought I could easily get rid of him by announcing first that I am married, but that proved not to be a deterrent. The guy wouldn't shut up and if I had had the energy to sprint away at that point I would have. Anyways, he eventually asked where I lived and I told him in no uncertain terms that I don't give out that information. I turned into a block of apartments that wasn't mine and said this was where I lived and he thankfully continued up the hill. I don't know what the best approach is in situations like this. Perhaps just a "go the f**** away." But I really dislike rudeness and unless someone poses a real threat I don't think I would say that. There's also the consideration that I'm bigger than a lot of men here so I feel like if I were ever attacked I could hold my own. I've also taken self defense classes, but it's still hard to gauge how I would react in the actual situation.