Jennie
P.K.Ghatak, MD
No.11.
I met Jennie at the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. I was waiting at the gate to board a plane for Kabul but no one else was there. I thought I came to the wrong departure gate. I double-checked my boarding pass and the gate number- it matched. I tried to listen to the public announcement, it was in French, and I did not understand a word of it. As I looked around, I noticed one aircraft was parked at the gate with the logo of Afghan Airlines “Ariana” painted on it; the paint was so hastily completed that the Air France logo was clearly visible underneath a thin layer of paint.
Then I saw Jennie, she was walking in. She was tall and thin but had a determined look on her face. She was carrying a bag on her shoulder, and she had some papers in her hand. I approached her and introduced myself and asked whether she spoke English. She said yes. And that I came to the correct gate for Ariana flight to Kabul. When she was satisfied that I was a genuine passenger, she relaxed. I checked my watch; it was still 45 minutes to the scheduled departure. I offered to buy her a drink, and we sat at a kiosk. I ordered a cup of coffee, she asked for a glass of wine.
We started slowly but pretty soon we found more common ground. She was a nurse volunteered to work with the Red Cross / Red Crescent in Kabul, and I was going on a medical mission as a doctor. We were so involved in listening to our life stories I vaguely remembered boarding the plane and sitting down next to her.
Two years earlier during the summer, Jennie was vacationing with her mother in Marseille in southern France. Jennie just had broken up with her longtime boyfriend and needed time to put her life together. Her mother did not like her boyfriend and thought he was no good for her. Her mother was happy that they broke up, but Jennie could not put that behind her. This was the time the plight of Afghan people became a constant TV news item. Her mother drew her attention to one of these news reports and an appeal from the Red Cross for nurses for Afghanistan. Her mother kept reminding her that instead of feeling sorry for herself, she could do some good by donating her time to the Red Cross. And one day she picked up the phone and called the Red Cross and two weeks later she was on her way to Kabul.
After a period of difficult adjustment to the Spartan lifestyle in Kabul, she found interest in her work. She introduced order and discipline in the office, raised the morale of the employees and then demanded accountability. At that time, she started to hear medications and supplies given to hospitals were finding their way on the streets of Kabul. She decided to go to the hospital and find out the fact for herself.
There she met Dr. Ahmet. He was a young surgeon, worked tirelessly and kept to himself. His surgical skill was superior to the rest. One day he was trying to save a child, bleeding from gunshot wounds, but there was no one available to assist him in surgery. He was shouting and asking for help. Jennie was there; she put on gloves and joined him. Shortly, the surgery was over Dr. Ahmet looked up and thanked Jennie for her help. But his looks lingered a little longer over Jennie's eyes. When Jennie looked up, she saw his beautiful large eyes but had a sad look and her eyes met his. Dr. Ahmet’s eyes sparkled for a brief moment. A warm sensation passed over her face. She found herself out of place, her mind was a thousand miles away in France. She recovered quickly but the bonding had already begun.
Jennie avoided meeting Dr. Ahmet for the next few days and concentrated in her own work. But Dr. Ahmet sought her out and asked her to help him in almost all difficult cases. Pretty soon they became the number one team of the hospital. At about this time the war was heating up and the front line of war began to approach the center of the town. An increasing number of sick and injured patients began to arrive in the hospital. Jennie and Ahmet often stayed long hours in the operating room. From the conversation during operations and in-between cases, she was able to stitch together Dr. Ahmet’s life.
Ahmet came from a family of doctors. His father was a practicing Ophthalmologist, his mother an ObGyn specialist had to retire because of the civil war. Ahmet had two married sisters. When Ahmet was in college the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. His father sent him to Multan, Pakistan. By the time he graduated from medical college and completed his training in surgery the Soviets had left Afghanistan. He returned to Kabul and stayed with his parents. The civil war, death, and destruction saddened him immensely. He worked as hard as he could to prevent civilian deaths. But it was a daunting task with limited hospital supplies and medications, and a lack of essentials like clean water and round the clock electricity. The deaths came too cheaply and frequently. At times, he was in deep despair but Jennie’s presence gave him some hope for the future.
One day he mentioned to Jennie that his parents were coming to meet her in the hospital. Regulations prevented Jennie from going any place outside the domain of her work. Their meeting did not go too well for Jennie. Later, Ahmet told Jennie that his mother thought Jennie was too old for him. In fact, Jennie was 5 years older than he was, but Jennie and Ahmet laughed it off.
The war came closer to the hospital. Traveling in and out of the hospital compound became unsafe. Many staff members stayed in the hospital for 2-3 days at a stretch.
One night Ahmet had to return home because his father was not well. Jennie stayed back at the hospital. The next morning Ahmet did not return to the hospital. Jennie went looking for him. With the help of the Red Cross/Red Crescent, she came to know the militias took Ahmet and his driver as prisoners. But their whereabouts were not known. The world became dark and sad for Jennie. She was in extreme anxiety thinking about what could happen to Ahmet. She, however, continued to work at the hospital, always thinking, somehow, he would show up at the hospital the next day. The hospital was full of injured people; many patients simply died of their injuries before any help could be given. Two days later the militias entered the office of the Red Cross/Red Crescent and completely ransacked it and took away all supplies and equipment.
Jennie was evacuated along with other foreign volunteers by the UN Security Forces. Three days later they were flown to Pakistan. That week was the worst time in Jennie’s life; she could not rest and could not find any news of Ahmet. There was no way to communicate with the parents of Ahmet. The telephone service was cut off and no one dared to venture into that neighborhood. She returned to France in sheer misery and was thoroughly broken.
She took a vow to find Ahmet. She joined other volunteer organizations and kept in touch with the Red Cross. But there was no news of Ahmet. She waited nearly two years for a ceasefire to take hold in Kabul. She jumped on the first opportunity to go to Kabul and find Ahmet.
The plane was approaching Bagram airport in Kabul. The morning sun lit the hillside. As I looked out through the window, I saw charred remains of aircraft and gun positions along the runway, burned out villages all around the airport. My heart sank. I looked at Jennie; she was in prayer with her eyes closed.
As the plane landed Jennie smiled and looked happy. We climbed down the ladder and began to walk on the tarmac. Wherever I looked there were signs of recent warfare and charred remains of war equipment.
Then there was a burst of machine gun fire coming from the left. Jennie was marching ahead with all the confidence and optimism.
It is a bright sunny morning in Kabul and Jennie’s search for Ahmet has just begun.
Then I saw Jennie, she was walking in. She was tall and thin but had a determined look on her face. She was carrying a bag on her shoulder, and she had some papers in her hand. I approached her and introduced myself and asked whether she spoke English. She said yes. And that I came to the correct gate for Ariana flight to Kabul. When she was satisfied that I was a genuine passenger, she relaxed. I checked my watch; it was still 45 minutes to the scheduled departure. I offered to buy her a drink, and we sat at a kiosk. I ordered a cup of coffee, she asked for a glass of wine.
We started slowly but pretty soon we found more common ground. She was a nurse volunteered to work with the Red Cross / Red Crescent in Kabul, and I was going on a medical mission as a doctor. We were so involved in listening to our life stories I vaguely remembered boarding the plane and sitting down next to her.
Two years earlier during the summer, Jennie was vacationing with her mother in Marseille in southern France. Jennie just had broken up with her longtime boyfriend and needed time to put her life together. Her mother did not like her boyfriend and thought he was no good for her. Her mother was happy that they broke up, but Jennie could not put that behind her. This was the time the plight of Afghan people became a constant TV news item. Her mother drew her attention to one of these news reports and an appeal from the Red Cross for nurses for Afghanistan. Her mother kept reminding her that instead of feeling sorry for herself, she could do some good by donating her time to the Red Cross. And one day she picked up the phone and called the Red Cross and two weeks later she was on her way to Kabul.
After a period of difficult adjustment to the Spartan lifestyle in Kabul, she found interest in her work. She introduced order and discipline in the office, raised the morale of the employees and then demanded accountability. At that time, she started to hear medications and supplies given to hospitals were finding their way on the streets of Kabul. She decided to go to the hospital and find out the fact for herself.
There she met Dr. Ahmet. He was a young surgeon, worked tirelessly and kept to himself. His surgical skill was superior to the rest. One day he was trying to save a child, bleeding from gunshot wounds, but there was no one available to assist him in surgery. He was shouting and asking for help. Jennie was there; she put on gloves and joined him. Shortly, the surgery was over Dr. Ahmet looked up and thanked Jennie for her help. But his looks lingered a little longer over Jennie's eyes. When Jennie looked up, she saw his beautiful large eyes but had a sad look and her eyes met his. Dr. Ahmet’s eyes sparkled for a brief moment. A warm sensation passed over her face. She found herself out of place, her mind was a thousand miles away in France. She recovered quickly but the bonding had already begun.
Jennie avoided meeting Dr. Ahmet for the next few days and concentrated in her own work. But Dr. Ahmet sought her out and asked her to help him in almost all difficult cases. Pretty soon they became the number one team of the hospital. At about this time the war was heating up and the front line of war began to approach the center of the town. An increasing number of sick and injured patients began to arrive in the hospital. Jennie and Ahmet often stayed long hours in the operating room. From the conversation during operations and in-between cases, she was able to stitch together Dr. Ahmet’s life.
Ahmet came from a family of doctors. His father was a practicing Ophthalmologist, his mother an ObGyn specialist had to retire because of the civil war. Ahmet had two married sisters. When Ahmet was in college the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. His father sent him to Multan, Pakistan. By the time he graduated from medical college and completed his training in surgery the Soviets had left Afghanistan. He returned to Kabul and stayed with his parents. The civil war, death, and destruction saddened him immensely. He worked as hard as he could to prevent civilian deaths. But it was a daunting task with limited hospital supplies and medications, and a lack of essentials like clean water and round the clock electricity. The deaths came too cheaply and frequently. At times, he was in deep despair but Jennie’s presence gave him some hope for the future.
One day he mentioned to Jennie that his parents were coming to meet her in the hospital. Regulations prevented Jennie from going any place outside the domain of her work. Their meeting did not go too well for Jennie. Later, Ahmet told Jennie that his mother thought Jennie was too old for him. In fact, Jennie was 5 years older than he was, but Jennie and Ahmet laughed it off.
The war came closer to the hospital. Traveling in and out of the hospital compound became unsafe. Many staff members stayed in the hospital for 2-3 days at a stretch.
One night Ahmet had to return home because his father was not well. Jennie stayed back at the hospital. The next morning Ahmet did not return to the hospital. Jennie went looking for him. With the help of the Red Cross/Red Crescent, she came to know the militias took Ahmet and his driver as prisoners. But their whereabouts were not known. The world became dark and sad for Jennie. She was in extreme anxiety thinking about what could happen to Ahmet. She, however, continued to work at the hospital, always thinking, somehow, he would show up at the hospital the next day. The hospital was full of injured people; many patients simply died of their injuries before any help could be given. Two days later the militias entered the office of the Red Cross/Red Crescent and completely ransacked it and took away all supplies and equipment.
Jennie was evacuated along with other foreign volunteers by the UN Security Forces. Three days later they were flown to Pakistan. That week was the worst time in Jennie’s life; she could not rest and could not find any news of Ahmet. There was no way to communicate with the parents of Ahmet. The telephone service was cut off and no one dared to venture into that neighborhood. She returned to France in sheer misery and was thoroughly broken.
She took a vow to find Ahmet. She joined other volunteer organizations and kept in touch with the Red Cross. But there was no news of Ahmet. She waited nearly two years for a ceasefire to take hold in Kabul. She jumped on the first opportunity to go to Kabul and find Ahmet.
The plane was approaching Bagram airport in Kabul. The morning sun lit the hillside. As I looked out through the window, I saw charred remains of aircraft and gun positions along the runway, burned out villages all around the airport. My heart sank. I looked at Jennie; she was in prayer with her eyes closed.
As the plane landed Jennie smiled and looked happy. We climbed down the ladder and began to walk on the tarmac. Wherever I looked there were signs of recent warfare and charred remains of war equipment.
Then there was a burst of machine gun fire coming from the left. Jennie was marching ahead with all the confidence and optimism.
It is a bright sunny morning in Kabul and Jennie’s search for Ahmet has just begun.
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