CIVPOL Diary - March 2010

For the women of Afghanistan who dream of a better life...

Cst. Annie, SPVM (Montreal Police Service)

I’m off again today to police headquarters in Kandahar. This time, I’m hoping to meet the female police officers here in Afghanistan. These brave women, undaunted by the plight of their homeland, women who dare to veer off the beaten path and claim their rightful place in society. Women who continue to garner praise in the media. I dreamt about meeting them long before I ever set foot in Afghanistan. I’ve prepared for this long-awaited meeting, because our visits are sometimes short and I have to share the same interpreter with several colleagues. I have with me a binder where I’ve written down the many questions I want to ask them regarding their equipment, their training, the nature of their work, etc. But I want to save some time at the end to listen to their stories, because I’ve no doubt they have plenty to say.

I remove some of my gear after our convoy parks within the confines of police headquarters. The soldiers offer me close protection, which I accept because I’m told you can trust no one here. I go with my gut. Insurgents and the Taliban are an ever-present threat, even within the police department.

Accompanied by our interpreter and a soldier, we head to the office at the end of a dark hallway – in Kandahar, electricity is a luxury available only three hours a day. I knock and wait to be invited in, but one of the officers motions me in. Inside are long couches lined up against the walls, the faded paint making the room look all but abandoned. A coffee table and desk at the far end of the room complete the decor. The windows have been painted over, with only a few slivers of light making their way into the room. I am surprised to see a few women wearing flowered dresses, veils over their head. They look as surprised as me.

We greet each other.
- Salamaleycum! Tsenga  ye?
- Za cha yem. Tsatenga ye?
- Ze me noum Cst. Annie deh. Za yem polés.

As I stumble through what little I know of the local language, they smile. Is it my poor pronunciation or my diligent effort? I’ll never know... all that matters is that I’ve broken the ice. I then let the interpreter take over because this is a very difficult language. That’s how I made contact with these female officers and the meeting began.

A female police officer in Kandahar starts the day off by taking care of her 14 children and husband. Then she has to wait for a member of her family or an Afghani police escort to pick her up and accompany her to work. She has to wear a burqa because her culture and religion require she keep herself covered. Female police officers are in constant danger, as are their families, because of their chosen profession. Family members are sometimes kidnapped as a sign of disapproval and intimidation.

Female officers have almost no training and no equipment, because they are not a priority. Their duties are limited to taking reports and searching females and buildings. During these searches, they are sometimes left alone with several suspects. On occasion, they have to defend themselves, sometimes with no weapon. They work seven days a week, and are sometimes required to take part in special nighttime operations. During these operations, in which they search buildings, members of the Afghan National Police (ANP), males and females alike, regularly face Taliban fighters, insurgents or angry citizens who resort to bombings or kamikaze missions. 

At the end of their shift, these women go home, again with an escort for protection. Just over a year ago, one of these women paid the ultimate price. Malalaï Kakar, a captain in the police department, was killed outside her home by the Taliban. She held a key position at police headquarters in Kandahar: she was in charge of investigations into crimes against female ANP officers. So it’s no surprise that these women have low expectations. The harder they strive to make a name for themselves within the organization, the bigger the target on their backs. Yet they continue to hope for a better life. And back at home, family life picks up where it left off that morning, another busy shift to be completed before nightfall.

I left the meeting feeling honoured and proud, but sad too. Honoured because I, Annie, had had the privilege of talking to these brave, determined and tireless trailblazers. Proud to be a woman, because I see in them an almost superhuman power, a drive to change things and push boundaries in the face of adversity. They represent so well all women around the world. And sad because they have chosen a difficult path, on a daily basis they face challenges and limitations we cannot even imagine, and they may never reap the benefits of their labours...

Sometimes when I realize the magnitude of the obstacles and barriers I face in attempting to better their lot, I am utterly discouraged. That’s when I remember my meeting with those women, the reason I’m here, what I’ve dreamt about for so long...

And that’s why we can never give up, like these women.