F e a t u r e s
Medical Outreach, A
Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan Air Commodore Ashley Stevenson
s the Commander of Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan, part of my responsibility is to protect
the Air Base from attack from anti- Government militia. This is done through many means, and is part of a wider, multi-faceted 'hearts & minds' campaign to elicit consent, create enduring alternative livelihoods, and engender regional stability and, eventually, prosperity. One such element of this campaign is to engage in humanitarian projects to support the inhabitants of local villages and I occasionally have the privilege to experience events at first-hand.
In early November 2007, I visited the village of Kvosh Ab where a Village Medical Outreach clinic had been set up for the day. This is a fairly recent initiative conducted by volunteer RAF doctors and dentists plus their support staff, under a watchful cordon of RAF Regiment gunners. Although grateful for the medical care, the villagers were largely suspicious of our presence.
10 Winter 2007
Kvosh Ab is perhaps the nearest village to the airfield perimeter, and no more than 500 metres to the north-west of the fence line, although it took 45 minutes by Landrover to reach it. This was due, in part, to the challenging terrain and the need to stop the vehicle convoy often to clear the path ahead on foot of the many vulnerable points en route where Improvised Explosive Devices are typically laid, or ambushes set.
The atmospherics vary week-on-week, and Kvosh Ab has a reputation for being among the least welcoming villages, perhaps because it lies along a route (no more than a dirt track) that receives many passers-by and, we believe, is often influenced by Taleban presence. I walked through the village, protected by Regiment gunners spread out to my front and rear (and all in radio contact with each other), to meet to the village Elder, an almost toothless man of some 75 years of age, with a long white beard, loosely fashioned turban, and wearing the traditional shalwar kameez (plain loose cotton matching trousers and shirt, over which a long waistcoat is worn).
Standing outside his house as we talked, he seemed unperturbed by the flies that amassed insistently about us and the many ants that darted about over his bare feet. Through the interpreter we exchanged pleasantries and asked several questions. As is usual during such an encounter, he complained about the lack of electricity, irrigation and the need for a bridge across a nearby canal, while we attempted to ply him for information. We parted after exchanging telephone numbers and promising to do more to help each other. We then walked through the village, with its open sewers, high mud walls and scrawny chickens scratching around in the dust.
There was a congregation of men and children (but no women) around a group of men working together to repair a roof, passing great handfuls of ‘mud pies’ mixed with strands of straw up a precarious-looking home-made ladder. Opposite, there was a shop – more of a dark, windowless room - that contained an eclectic mix of cheap toys, packet foods, and basic toiletries; outside were a couple of boxes of rotting
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