A typical Afghan mess ruins Canadians' day
JANE ARMSTRONG
From Thursday's Globe and Mail
BAZAR-E-PANJWAI, AFGHANISTAN — The gunfight was in full swing when Canada's reconstruction team pulled into the village.
A turbaned man with streaks of blood on his tunic wandered across the parking lot. Two U.S. Marines were screaming expletive-filled orders at a pair of detainees, and Afghan army troops were massing at the gate of the compound, which is normally a school.
It wasn't how Warrant Officer Dean Henley's week was supposed to start.
As part of Canada's civil military co-operation unit, WO Henley is known as a peace broker in this war-torn area of southern Afghanistan. Some even call him the “Prince of Panjwai.”
For the past six weeks, the 36-year-old reservist and his colleagues on the reconstruction team have set about getting to know, on a first-name basis, every family in this town of about 5,000.
It's the “hearts-and-minds” dimension to Canada's mission in Afghanistan. Its adherents say the war against the Taliban won't be won on the battlefields, but rather in the towns and villages, by persuading Afghans to buy into the nation-building efforts begun by their fledgling democratic government.
But Monday afternoon, WO Henley and his team came face to face with the reason that Afghan citizens often turn to the Taliban to provide security and restore order.
As the three-vehicle Canadian convoy swung into the schoolyard, a gun battle was raging between Afghan police and the Afghan National Army.
An Afghan police office had shot and killed a shopkeeper and seriously injured his brother in a dispute over propane. The situation took a quintessentially Afghan twist when the shooter sought refuge at the home of his cousin, the district leader. Pashtun traditions dictate that families don't turn relatives over to authorities.
After the shooting, a U.S. Marine unit, which is in Bazar-e-Panjwai training an Afghan army unit, tracked down the fugitive and the leader who was hiding him, and brought them to the makeshift military compound at the school.
WO Henley was visibly upset. He had a meeting planned this week with this district leader, Haji Nayez Mohammed. Now, the grey-haired man was seated on the grass in plastic handcuffs, blood dripping from his hands.
WO Henley saw six weeks of painstaking mediation work dissipating before his eyes. Not only was the district leader in custody, but villagers were furious at the police for shooting at civilians. They were “out for blood,” the reservist said.
He decided to step out of the dispute and allow the Afghan National Army to investigate.
But the next day, tempers in town were still hot. By 9 a.m., hundreds of angry villagers were advancing on police headquarters, demanding revenge.
The army eventually dispersed the crowd peacefully. But the reconstruction team would now spend the rest of the week trying to mend fences between villagers and the police.
Bazar-e-Panjwai should be an ideal candidate for the softer side of the Canadian mission. Situated just south of the Arghandab River and cut off from gun battles that still rage daily in the Pashmul region to the north, the town is now a relatively peaceful haven in the volatile province of Kandahar.
Since arriving in Afghanistan late last summer, WO Henley has dined with town elders, met with mullahs, purchased new carpets for the mosques, held dozens of hours-long meetings with residents and arranged jobs for people whose livelihoods were destroyed by war.
“If we can persuade people to trust us, to see that we're trying to build up their society, then maybe that will create confidence in the government,” said WO Henley, a reservist who works as a schoolteacher in Toronto.
An unabashed optimist with endless faith in the Afghan people, WO Henley said he's measuring his progress in millimetres. “People ask what my goal is,” he said. “Well, there's a house down the street where I had dinner once. My goal is to come here some day on a vacation and stay in that house.”
But even the loftiest goals and the best mediators can't rehabilitate this country's deeply corroded institutions, chief among them Afghanistan's notoriously corrupt and ill-trained police force.
Sergeant Ted Howard, who co-ordinates two reconstruction teams — WO Henley's and another one further north — was blunt in his assessment of Afghan police.
“The ANP,” he said shaking his head in disgust. “A security guard at McDonald's is more qualified. At least the security guard has some measure of direction and knows what his job is.
“Without a policing system, this country isn't going to make it.”
That sentiment is voiced across the country by international aid organizations and North Atlantic Treaty Organization forces attempting to rehabilitate Afghanistan's broken institutions.
While great strides have been made training and recruiting qualified members for the Afghan National Army, the police force is filled with poorly paid, ill-trained recruits, many of whom are illiterate. Many are onetime mujahedeen, trained in fighting but ignorant of peacekeeping.
Sgt. Howard doesn't blame individual officers — some earn less than $10 a month, inviting corruption. Some initial training efforts have been made by NATO countries deployed here, including Canada. But the will to improve Afghan's police force must come from Kabul, he said.
Both men hoped Monday's gunfight will provide that catalyst for change.
“This may be an opportunity for ISAF [the International Stabilization and Assistance Force] to see what kind of problems we have down here, and we'll get some help down here,” Sgt. Howard told a national security official Wednesday, when the town meetings resumed.
Many villagers are less optimistic. By Wednesday morning, the residents of Bazar-e-Panjwai were again arriving at the school gate, asking for the Canadians' assistance on everything from jobs to compensation for being displaced by battle groups.
WO Henley was back, compiling lists of residents' grievances.
“We don't want the ANP here,” said Guma Khan, 42. “There is no Taliban here, we don't need them. They're just here so they can make their black money.”
Mr. Khan said the police officer who shot the shopkeeper was trying to get propane from the businessman without paying.
“So he just shot the man,” he said. “We don't need this. We don't want this.”
