Wordless Wednesday: 1/16/13
Thank goodness for old friends!
When I say old, I don’t mean age…just the length of time I’ve known them. 🙂 This afternoon, one of my oldest friends and matron of honor (though she’s not at all matronly) moved into town with her husband and kids. Her husband got a job here recently, so it was a quick move and until a couple of months ago, unexpected. I’ve been slowly meeting new people since we’ve moved here, but it’s still a feeling of relief and happiness to know that I have people close by that I for sure can rely on. My husband’s ship is gearing up to start sea trials again…which means he’s going to be gone for weeks at a time up until his next deployment.
I chuckle now when I think about how many, many years ago I used to think it would be so romantic to be the wife of a service member. There’s something about a man in uniform, right? What was I thinking!? Yeah, there’s nothing romantic about it.
For example, moving from Florida to Virginia alone in my last trimester of pregnancy was hard. I was working full time, plus monthly obligations to the Army Reserve. I had to choose and secure our apartment long distance. Arrange for the movers. Clean our old apartment. If my husband had seen me almost 8 1/2 months pregnant, sorting through stored teaching supplies and military gear, lifting/carrying/dragging furniture to the dumpster, squeezing a solid wood desk in my compact car…he would’ve freaked out!
You have to be a strong, independent, committed woman or man to survive being the spouse of a Soldier, Sailor, Marine, or Airman. I’m leaving Coasties out, cause they don’t count. Just kidding, just kidding! The Coast Guard is very important too. I think. 😉
Anyway, what is incredible is that some women move across country alone and pregnant and have several older children with them. It was just me, and it was hard enough!
I’ve been on both sides. I’ve been deployed, and I’ve been the one home, waiting. They are both very difficult, in very different ways. Honestly, I think it’s harder to be the family member. In my experience, when you’re deployed, you have very specific responsibilities, and that’s all you have to worry about. You get in a rut. Someone cooked my food, cleaned my toilet, and even washed my clothes. I didn’t worry about paying bills. My parents back in the States had my power of attorney, and they paid any bills I had. They even filed my taxes. All that concerned me was my public affairs job, day in and day out.
When my husband was deployed, he did wash his own clothes, and he cleaned. But I paid all his bills. I deposited checks for him. I renewed his vehicle tags and base stickers. I took over all his responsibilities outside of the military. I basically ran the household, and I missed J terribly.
I don’t talk about all of this much, because I don’t want to make it seem like I’m just whining or throwing a pity part. That’s not my intention at all. I’m just thankful for the people in my life who I can rely on if I need help!
If you know someone who has a loved one in the military…show them support, because it’s far from easy.
“17 beheaded in Afghanistan for dancing”
I woke up in a fairly good mood this morning, but when I turned on my computer to check the weather, I saw the above headline.
When I think of Afghanistan, I have a heavy heart. Not just for the American and coalition lives lost in that country, but for the people that live there. All those children. 
Afghanistan has the highest infant mortality rate in the world. Their maternal mortality rate is one of the highest in the world as well, and Afghanistan was recently determined to be the most dangerous country in the world for women.
I read news articles regularly about U.S. deaths in Afghanistan, and they anger me. Yes, I loathe hearing about U.S. troops being killed, especially when they’re murdered by those working with them on a daily basis.
It’s so easy to say “drop a bomb on them” or “wipe them out” or “leave them to kill each other off.”
But then I think of what I saw:
I remember this little boy who lost his left leg when he stepped on an anti-personnel mine. The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979, and when the last Russian soldier left a decade later, Afghanistan was one of the most heavily-mined countries in the world. In 2008, more than 62,000 anti-personnel mines were destroyed. As of 2010, there are still at least 6,000 land mine or unexploded ordnance (UXO)Â sites, let alone individual mines. His father brought him to the local base for treatment. He came running up to the gates, carrying his bleeding little boy.
If you click on this, you can read a story I wrote in 2009 about a young Afghan woman I remember. She finally discovered she was pregnant after several years of marriage. That woman was so happy that day, that she let me photograph her without her veil. I’ve never uploaded that photo to the Internet, for fear that someone might recognize her, and punish her for “exposing” herself. (Highly unlikely, I know, but some of my writing -completely twisted- was featured on a pro-insurgency site, so they have looked at my work before).
I remember this little girl, living on the side of the rugged Hindu Kush mountains. Her father brought her in to have her burned leg treated at a small American-run forward operating base. Most villagers in the area are afraid to come here for treatment (there’s a lot of insurgent activity). I remember this father held his little girl close when she was frightened and in pain, and he looked at her with love and gentleness in his eyes.
I remember the young female English teacher, probably around 23 or 24 years old. Her dream was to move to American one day. She told me, proudly, that she never intended to marry. Very feminist words indeed for an Afghan woman!
I remember these girls and many like them. Forbidden during the Taliban reign, these girls now attend school.
I know the media rarely shows it (everyone has a boss, and everyone has an agenda), but there are good things happening there with our presence. These are just a few snapshots of many wonderful things I witnessed, especially for the women.
But I also remember the young Soldier, barely a legal adult, with a bullet hole in the front of the vest that saved his life.
I remember the wiggly, black body bags carried on stretchers to the helicopter.
I remember the silent ranks of infantry Soldiers staring at the just-unveiled memorial.
There will always be countries in dire need of saving. But can we really?
As a continent, Africa really burdens me. The Congo is a horrific place for women and girls to live, because rape is commonplace. In Somalia, about 95% of girls between the ages of 4 and 11 experience female genital mutilation (FGM). Many of you have probably heard of the Invisible Children in Uganda. The recent riots and killings in South Africa tell us of the country’s deep-rooted troubles.
It’s been estimated that more than 20 million people at one time are victims of human trafficking…most of them women and girls.
I’m not saying that it’s worth it for us to be the world’s policeman. I’m not saying that it’s worth the 2,000+ American lives that Operation Enduring Freedom has cost us (so far). But I am saying that to me, there are faces in this equation. Afghanistan is not just an evil country somewhere far away.