Editorial Note: The following story was written by Cindy Ott, a registered nurse from South Carolina who spent time at CURE Kabul. The story was previously published in local newspapers in South Carolina.

Cold and dusty. That is Kabul. Crumbled buildings, a reminder of war, try to dominate the city but cannot compete with the beautiful mountains that surround Afghanistan’s capital.

Street vendors line the city’s wide dirt streets, selling fruit, carcasses of raw meat, and naan, the traditional Afghani bread. People weave through the crowded sidewalks, including women in burkas that cover their entire bodies.

There are no traffic lights or lanes, so drivers create whatever paths are convenient. There are no stop signs, so cars never have to stop. Drivers wanting to get into a lane aggressively push their vehicle into whatever direction they need to go. They barely avoid hitting other vehicles or pedestrians.

I am a new nurse on the way to visit CURE hospital, a 113 bed facility in Kabul. CURE, a nonprofit Christian medical organization based in the United States, established the hospital in 2005. There are 25 midwives employed at CURE, considered one of the best hospitals in Afghanistan. The role of the midwife is significant in a country with one of the highest infant mortality rates in the world. 
    Although my career is new, I am not.  I am a wife and mother of three children and have waited seven years to visit Afghanistan, my almost 8000 mile journey funded by a retirement and savings accounts. I have moments where I have considered whether this is the correct step.  After all, most women in America don’t have a desire to go to Afghanistan, yet, every time I have thought about it, my heart has said, “Go!
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The CURE hospital is staffed mostly by Afghans.  The staff is welcoming of the American visitor who has to remember not to roll up her sleeves.  A woman in Afghanistan cannot expose any part of her body, including her arms and neck.  Hair is covered with a headscarf.
    I visit the OR, the Operating Room which is called the OT, or Operating Theatre, at CURE Kabul.  The surgical unit has four operating rooms and provides care that includes general surgery, repair of fistulas, and cleft palates and lips.


Nama, scheduled for surgery to repair her cleft palate, is 12 years old and scared. 
Even though she only speaks Dari, one of the main dialects in Afghanistan, and I speak only English, we are able to communicate. I tell her she can hold my hand if she wants to and put my hand next to her on the operating table.  She reaches for it.  As the anesthesia team begins bringing syringes of medications, she starts to cry. I realize she probably thinks they are going to give her a shot, and does not know they will inject the medication through the IV access.  I talk to her and try to get her to face me and listen to my voice.  This is somewhat successful. In a few moments, the anesthesia takes effect, and Nama drifts off.

In America, babies with cleft lips and/or palates are surgically treated when they are still young. In Afghanistan, where medical care is sometimes non-existent, it is not unusual for 12-year olds like Nama to be treated. I was told that this surgery had even been done on a 45-year old patient. Cure Kabul has a partnership with Smile Train to provide this much needed surgery at no cost to the patients.

In addition to cleft lip/palate surgeries, CURE Kabul also provides care to patients with fistulas and goiters. Fistulas can occur due to lack of care during pregnancy and delivery leading to traumatic injuries that cause continuous leakage of urine and/or feces. Goiter is a common problem in the rural villages of Afghanistan due to lack of iodine in the water and salt.

CURE Kabul is a teaching hospital. The Medical Director of CURE Kabul, Dr. Richard Manning from Pennsylvania, instructs an Afghani doctor on how to perform a cholecystectomy. He said once the gall bladder is removed, it is given to the patient as proof that the work was completed. The OT staff is kind to me.  They are interested in me and in America. We discuss differences in our cultures. Afghans value family and believe in having many children, with the average family having five or six children.  Mansur, a 27-year old nurse who speaks fluent English, tells me he has five children. Mohammad, the Operating Room Manager, is 28 years old and has six children. Afghan men marry young and may have more than one wife. I tell them that my husband says one wife is plenty.

In Afghanistan, it is not uncommon for the husband to be decades older than his wife.
One female nurse, now 35, tells me she was 16 when she married her husband who was 45 at the time. He recently died, and she is now raising four children, ages 10 to 15.
In Afghanistan, the law allows that a husband may beat his wife. Whether a woman has a “good” husband is determined by whether he beats her or not.

After a few days in Kabul, I want to take a walk. Just like most people here, we live in a walled in compound with a locked gate. We do not take walks.

The next morning, I am told I am allowed to walk outside the hospital, but I should stay on the path because the area beyond that needs to be de-mined. I quickly decide to stay in the building.

The patients and family members visiting CURE Kabul hospital greet me with a smile once I initiate a smile. Often I see a woman, whose face is partially covered with a headscarf, look surprised as I walk by. It doesn’t seem at all strange to me that I am here, and I am grateful for the opportunity to serve a people who could use some help.

Cindy D. Ott is a nurse at The Regional Medical Center in Orangeburg, SC.

For more information about CURE Kabul or to help the children and women of Afghanistan, visit cure.org/afghanistan