November, 8, 2009
Part 4 of a series about a peace trip to Afgfhanistan. We’re invited to lunch by Dan Allison, who runs an NGO, Hope International. Women spread a cloth on the floor and carry in platters of rice, lamb, Afghan flat bread, spinach that’s been cooked to the consistency of mush, raw vegetables and mounds of grapes. We’ve been served the same meal at every lunch and dinner, and have been religious about not eating anything raw and drinking only bottled water. But Dan tells us, “We’ve trained our cooks to wash everything carefully. […]
Read MoreNovember, 7, 2009
Part 5 of a series about a peace trip to Afgfhanistan. Afghanistan is no island, entire of itself. There’s a constant bleeding of people, money and ideas through its porous borders with Pakistan, Iran, Russia and nearby India. There can be no solution to its problems without involving neighboring countries, which is the point of a women’s “Trialogue” we attend at the Central Hotel. About 60 women from Pakistan, India and Afghanistan have gathered for a two-day peace conference. Radha Kumar, a professor from India, opens the meeting by saying, “Our three countries […]
Read MoreNovember, 6, 2009
Part 6 of a series about a peace trip to Afgfhanistan. On our last day, the final voice we hear is that of a member of Parliament from the south, Roshanak Wardak, who expresses the opposite position from what we’ve been hearing in Kabul. She just moved to a house in Kabul because it’s no longer safe to commute to her village. The concrete slab house looks as if it was erected yesterday, surrounded by rocks, rubble and a security wall with barbed wire. Jodie, Sara with Roshanak Roshanak is small and graceful, […]
Read MoreSeptember, 22, 2007
It’s the moment of truth. Six glass jars have been sitting in my garage for three weeks. Like a mother hen, I’ve been watching them as the water inside turned cloudy and the cucumbers morphed from bright green to a yellowish pea color. Nervously, on the 21st day, I open the jar. Fzzzzzzzt! The brine bubbles and spurts – it’s alive! I pull out a pickle, take a bite and…. Glory to God! It’s the exact same taste as the dill pickles my Hungarian grandfather used to make, every year when I was […]
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