First mission experience

In the summer of 2021, at the height of the pandemic, I spent six weeks inside the UNOCA compound in Kabul, supporting an election project just two months before the Taliban takeover. It was my first time visiting Kabul and this period was marked by confinement, uncertainty, and contrasts — moments of tension, but also of solidarity, learning, and small comforts.

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The Quarantine: Seven Days of Solitude

My first week was spent entirely in quarantine. I did not leave my room for seven days. A kind colleague brought groceries to my door, and those simple deliveries felt like lifelines.

From my room, I often heard the distant sounds of Kabul. One afternoon, the sharp crack of gunfire made me freeze. Stepping outside the row of buildings — shipping containers converted into living quarters — I noticed a Canadian military officer approaching and asked him about the shooting. He smiled knowingly and said, “You must be new here?” Then, with a casual gesture over his shoulder, he explained: “If the shots come from the north, it’s just military training. From the east or anywhere else — that’s the Taliban.” His unbothered, matter-of-fact tone revealed how routine such distinctions had become.

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Life Inside the Compound

When quarantine ended, I began to explore the limited world within the walls of UNOCA.

• The canteens and pizzerias were our favorite eating places, and in a tiny coffee shop you could find saffron tea, a fragrant treasure amid the spiciness of local Afghan food.
• There was a small gym, where men and women worked out separately, and a local beauty salon run by two ladies from my own country. The salon became a place of laughter, warmth, and community.

Daily life was shaped by restrictions, but we found ways to create normalcy. Sharing meals, short walks in the courtyard, and friendly conversations stitched together a sense of belonging.

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Glimpses of Kabul Beyond the Walls

I saw life outside only on my way to and from the airport. Those brief journeys left strong impressions.

• Children ran barefoot in the streets, their laughter echoing against the backdrop of poverty.
• At the airport, local men who spoke some English were eager, almost desperate, to engage in conversation, clinging to any hope that might open a way out of the country.
• The international terminal was stark and primitive, with barely enough seats.
• The air smelled of burning wood and cattle dung, the fuels that many families relied on.
• In certain districts, aging Soviet-era apartment blocks stood as reminders of another intervention, another legacy Afghanistan had inherited.

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Colleagues and Contrasts

Inside the mission, I encountered a mosaic of people. Some Afghan nationals working with the UN carried themselves with a surprising arrogance or inefficiency — perhaps a shield from fatigue, or frustration with international oversight that never seemed to bring lasting change.

Yet I also met the opposite: a young Afghan cleaning lady, kind and ambitious, who told me she was studying part-time to become an English teacher. Her father encouraged her dream, and her determination stood as a quiet act of courage in a society where women’s futures were under constant threat.

Among international colleagues, I shared long evenings with Americans, Kosovars, and Egyptians. And in lighter moments, I laughed over good food with fellow countrywomen whose generosity kept spirits high.

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Lessons on Safety and Thriving

Being a woman in Kabul during those weeks meant living with constant reminders of risk, but also learning that thriving is possible even in confinement.

I found that thriving came through:

• Boundaries — knowing when to distance yourself from emotions that don’t serve you, to protect both mental peace and energy.
• Small rituals — saffron tea, courtyard walks, and laughter in the salon.
• Community — the reassurance of colleagues, the kindness of strangers, the courage of a young woman dreaming of teaching.

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Conclusion

Looking back, those six weeks taught me that women in missions carry both unique vulnerabilities and unique strengths. Safety and self-care are not luxuries — they are essentials that allow us to contribute meaningfully.

Thriving as a woman in a mission is not about ignoring danger or hardship. It is about building resilience from the ordinary — a cup of tea, a trusted colleague, a shared laugh — while standing steady in the extraordinary circumstances of conflict and change.

The lesson I carry from Kabul is simple: women bring a role to missions that cannot be filled by men. The way we balance mental and physical resilience is not always the same, and that difference matters. During my short stay in Afghanistan — at a historically critical and unstable moment — I gained a perspective on women’s experiences in missions that was both unique and profound. I know that had I been there just a few years earlier, my experience would have been very different.

Based on my experience in Afghanistan and all the other missions, I agree once again with this statement attributed to Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor-in-chief of The Economist, that to me sounds almost like a scientific conclusion ” The nation that fails women, fails”.