Health Where?

As mentioned, the reason for my visit here was to help shoot a documentary on health care issues in Afghanistan. The "crew" for this project turned out to be somewhat more streamlined than I'd imagined, the full list of personnel being Dr K. (production and interviewer), myself (camera operator/director) and, erm.... Well that's it, actually. We were to be joined by Richard Dunwoody (Champion jockey, TV pundit and former contestant on Strictly Come Dancing) to add celebrity bling and raise the profile of the project - but The Forces Of Nature in the form of Icelandic volcanic ash kept him on the ground in the UK. So sadly a non-runner.

The first couple of days of shooting was documenting dropping off medical supplies which Karen had quite miraculously organized the donation and transport of from the UK. She'd somehow convinced the British Army to fly the stuff out here, and to help us deliver it to the three hospitals she felt could make best use of it. This meant that we were "embedded" with a unit, and drove around in the back of an armoured vehicle, sat next to a couple of "our boys". Whenever regular army are off-base in a war zone they of course have to follow very strict protocols, including wearing full kit and helmet - apparently without a helmet if they were injured they wouldn't be insured. The amount of kit these guys were loaded with was incredible - massive body armour, communication devices, big fuck-off machine gun, a pistol, the helmet, gloves... Even walking with all that shit looked like a Herculean feat, sweat trickling down their faces just sitting there. Nice blokes though, friendly and chatty - the one in charge even had a University degree, which sped up his promotion. We also had to wear body armour - but just the lighter type without metal plates in it. I was told a bullet would pass straight through it, through me, and out the other side. It would keep all my perforated internal organs together, though, and might stop some smaller bits of shrapnel from an explosion, though of course would do nothing to protect my head, arms and legs or the family jewels. Despite the fact it was virtually useless, it was still hot and heavy as fuck. But them's the rules, and the army is all about rules.

We did the drops with two vehicles and a total of eight soldiers, and strangely, surrounded by at least 100 grands worth of armoured vehicle, guns, equipment and personnel trained to kill people, I felt far more nervous than walking down the street alone. But of course travelling with the British Army made me a genuine and legitimate target.

The amount of medical supplies was only one supermarket-sized cardboard box full to each hospital, but essential stuff that meant a very real and important benefit to the patients of these desperately underfunded public hospitals. The gratitude shown by the hospital directors was genuine, heartfelt and very touching. A drop in the ocean, perhaps, but a valuable drop non-the-less.