SHALIZAR, Afghanistan -- The rows on the farm were neat and parallel, just as they should appear: red tomatoes that started out as Iranian seeds; bulbous watermelons ripening on the vine; even peanuts. Peanuts aren't typically a crop grown in Afghanistan, but they're cultivated here in almost 20 rows. It's an apparent tribute to the peanut farmer and Virginia National Guard officer who's sponsoring this Kapisa Province agricultural project.
Only one thing was missing: the Afghan government's agricultural chief for the province, who was supposed to inspect the crops. And it's for his benefit that the farm is around in the first place. Consider it another example of how America's costly counterinsurgency formula lacks a central ingredient: an interested, functional host-nation government.
The farm is the project of the Agribusiness Development Team attached to Task Force Wolverine, the brigade-sized unit responsible for security in Bamiyan, Panjshir and Parwan provinces. The ADTs are a fairly recent initiative that bring around ten groups of National Guardsmen -- in this case, 64 reservists, mostly from Kentucky -- with farming experience to advise and mentor Afghan provincial officials in agricultural production techniques.
Wolverine doesn't ordinarily operate in Kapisa. But the Kentucky ADT is here because its predecessor unit launched projects there, like this farm about five miles from Bagram Air Field, that require continuity.
Something else that Lieutenant Colonel Henry Goodrich inherited from his predecessors before arriving in Afghanistan in June: an intransigent Director of Agriculture, Irrigation and Livestock, known as a DAIL, called Mr. Husiani. Goodrich, a southeast Virginia farmer in civilian life and commander of the ADT's Kapisa team, is in Afghanistan to advise Afghan agricultural officials about best cultivation practices. He expressed respect for Kapisa's farmers, who grow wheat, grapes, corn and other vegetables in the two northeastern districts where Goodrich works. (No poppy, in case you were wondering.) But Goodrich doesn't work directly with individual farmers; he works with Mr. Husiani. That is, when Mr. Husaini feels like it, which is rarely. "The goal is to get him to take over this operation," Goodrich says as we ride in his armored vehicle to get to the farm, but Mr. Husaini "doesn't seem interested in much of anything."
Mr. Husiani certainly wasn't interested in inspecting the farm, even as his ostensible U.S. counterparts were. He opted not to show up, informing the ADT (officially known as Task Force Ironhorse) that he had to take a meeting in Kabul. According to Goodrich, it's "not unusual for him not to be there" when the ADT checks in on its projects.
And the farm, a short drive from Bagram -- in turn a short drive from Kabul -- is supposed to be a top DAIL priority. Spread out over nearly ten acres under the protection of big, majestic mountains, the farm is intended to be a low-cost demonstration to the DAIL of how Afghans can grow new crops for their benefit. Over the last 60 days, Goodrich says he's spent only $2500 on the farm, something he spends in half a day on his own crops back home. (It wasn't clear how much the previous ADT spent on the farm.)
It's as much a security operation as it is a development one: Kapisa is the most volatile of Ironhorse's designated provinces, and while the ADT has only been attacked once -- a rocket whizzed by the team in late June, hurting no one -- it's too dangerous for Ironhorse to expand its presence southward, where a French task force provides security. To Goodrich, someone who has a good farming job isn't going to be interested in planting the roadside bombs that both kill people and hinder crops from getting to market.
Keeping the place running is Farid, a recent graduate of the school of agriculture at nearby Al Baroni University, home to a companion farm sponsored by the Americans. An enthusiastic guy with a trim beard and a pink shirt, Farid proudly walks Goodrich's team through the farm, telling the ADT through a translator about the work he's done maintaining it. Practically as soon as Farid finishes saying hello in broken English, Goodrich squats down joyfully and points to a leafy sprout. Peanuts. The lieutenant colonel can't believe it: "Is that for me?" Apparently, after Goodrich brought Farid some peanuts to taste, the farmer bought some from Pakistan and figured he'd start planting.
"See how that's starting to swell up?" Goodrich says, pointing with his knife at a tiny green bulb at the base of the plant. "That's where the peanut will grow." They walk through the field, inspecting tomatoes and watermelons, an irrigation ditch and even an easy-to-ire guard dog tethered to a shed in the middle of the farm. Goodrich praises Farid's "outstanding work," and pledges to get him what the farmer requests: some backpack pesticide sprayers and money for some more employees, particularly for security. A white tent marks where some locals are squatting in refuge after a weekend rocket attack nearby.
There's just one snag: the DAIL. Every time it seems like Farid reports that the DAIL is finally offering some support, he walks it back under questioning. Mr. Husiani provided seeds for some carrots and other veggies? Well, actually, no: he just promised some seeds in the future. Did Farid just say that the DAIL gave him twenty pounds of fertilizer? Well, not really: a Guard major gave Farid money for the fertilizer and Farid bought it from the DAIL.
Goodrich can only tighten his jaw after hearing that Mr. Husseini isn't helping. "I am putting pressure on the DAIL to do more work," he tells Fareed. "I'm going to stop doing projects in this area that he wants if he doesn't." Going forward, he assures Fareed that the ADT will provide seed and fertilizer if the DAIL doesn't do what "he's supposed to do," but encourages him anyway to keep making his resource requests through the DAIL. He sounds like countless U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan who've urged their local counterparts to use their ineffectual bureaucracies for their needs, despite negative experience to the contrary. No one wants to deepen the dependence on foreigners, even if the local government isn't getting the job done.
The ADT makes one more stop before heading back to Bagram: the DAIL's office in nearby Mahmud Raqi, the provincial capital. Within the manicured compound, the ADT is bankrolling a $90,000 construction of two greenhouses and a stone-based cold-storage facility. According to Major Fred Bates, the contracts chief for the ADT, the lack of electricity in Afghanistan means that farmers in the area typically sell their goods for the winter to Pakistani refrigeration facilities. Then the fridge men sell the farmers back their own crops at an inflated price. The construction is a bigger project than Goodrich typically prefers -- "I'm really focused on the smaller stuff," he says, possessing discretionary authority on projects up to $50,000 -- but it's another intended quick-demonstration effect, and clearly one that would bolster the DAIL's prestige.
If he were there. As the ADT gets a project update from Kabeer, the English-speaking Kabul-based contractor who's building the lockers and the greenhouses, the DAIL's deputy for forestry, Samad, beckons Goodrich and his team in for a lunch of spicy kebabs and sweet melon. Part of the group heads into the absent Mr. Husiani's elegantly carpeted office, which is capped by a desk with little on it besides a plastic inbox-outbox tray, which is nearly bereft of papers. The calendar on the wall, featuring a bear chewing contently on a branch full of leaves, is set to June.
But Samad tells Goodrich something encouraging. He wants to start getting agricultural projects going in the Nejrab Valley, near the center of the province. It's not something Goodrich has ever heard before. Usually, he explains after lunch, the DAIL's team doesn't push for any projects beyond the 140 square kilometer, 100,000-person, mostly-Tajik, mostly-safe slice of Kapisa where the ADT works. Goodrich worries the expansion could backfire: "It needs to be a little more secure" before the team can go, he says.
"It's no problem for us," replies an aide to Samad who calls himself Ghyas. Goodrich says that he needs to coordinate with the French troops operating in the area, but he wants to move down into the area to start work.
Driving back to Bagram in the thickly-armored, blast-resistant vehicle, Goodrich is in a good mood, despite not seeing Mr. Husiani today. "This is the first time they've asked for anything outside this immediate area." He's happy to count that as progress. If the DAIL wants to expand its reach, maybe the team can get a virtuous circle of development and security going.
As for Mr. Husiani himself, Goodrich says, "He's not as productive as I would like him to be. It's a big issue." Working with the Afghan government has taught him, he observes, about the value of working "at the district or village level." Which is to say: working for the Afghan government in principle -- but, in practice, despite it.
Photo: Spencer Ackerman
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