Unfortunately, after my leave, I had to go back to the Netherlands because a close friend died. While I was away, summer had turned to winter in Tarin Kowt. The contours of the mountains around us had suddenly become much sharper, the first snow covers the mountaintops. The air had also got thinner; even the sound from the neighbourhood mosque seemed to carry further. Unfortunately, with the cold, the rain had come; the dusty sand had turned into mud, lots of mud.

 
The weather may have changed in Uruzgan, but the reconstruction work hasn’t. This week, I opened a small electricity plant for the people of Sajawul, a village at the beginning of the Baluchi valley. Gratitude for the Netherlands is flattering, but in the end it is about connecting the Afghan government with its people. For that reason I took the deputy governor and a couple of other officials with me. Our journey passed through the Irish Crossing in Tarin Kowt, over the Wanu bridge and along Sorgh Morghab (where a clinic and a bazaar are being rebuilt). Just past that, in Buman, the people stopped waving to us. We continued at snail’s pace. Engineers jumped out of the vehicles and searched metre by metre for roadside bombs (there have been a lot on this road recently). I tightened my seatbelt a little.

 
Green oasis
The journey took us to Qudus, a breathtaking sight across the Deh Rafshan and the Baluchi valley. It's the kind of landscape you see in Lord of the Rings. At the base we were greeted by an enthusiastic Nieck, the mission team’s lieutenant in this area. He told me he was just missed by a rocket the evening before. After warming up with a cup of tea, we walked down to the village of Sajawul - a walk which took us past mud houses which have been built this way for hundreds of years.
 

We crossed a bridge recently made by Australian troops, in the direction of smiling men with large beards. We were given a heartfelt welcome in a large garden within mud walls; a green oasis of fresh smelling plants and lush blossoming flowers. In my speech, I stressed the advantages of working with government and the need for the villagers to form village councils to help make plans for the development of their village with the authorities.
 

Pompous
These kind of meetings, called shuras, usually follow a certain pattern. Squatting on a large carpet a number of pompous sounding declarations were made. They were directed at me as representative of the Task Force in Uruzgan. After a couple of rounds, I'd had enough. I wanted to get these people to talk with their own government officials. You don’t start building a house by making the roof, but by putting in the foundations, I said. Then I told the interpreter to stop translating what the villagers were saying and that the people had to start talking to the government officials instead of me.
 

There were confused looks as we walked away, and then all hell broke loose. In loud voices the villagers complained about a government they never saw and which did not appear interested in their needs and concerns. The governor and his officials hit back with the comment that the village had never properly formulated its own wishes and that the villagers couldn’t even read and write.
 

Handwritten note
I wondered whether I had done the right thing. An hour later, things simmered down. Gradually, groups of villagers started to talk calmly with one or more government officials. An hour after that the man with the greyest beard came towards me. He gave me a handwritten note with the names of the village council which had just been formed. Underneath I wrote: 'I hereby acknowledge that the above-mentioned persons form the Community Development Council of Sajawul - Michel Rentenaar, Director Provincial Reconstruction Team'. The governor signed as well. Next week our staff will discuss the new village council’s first ideas on the same carpet.