Token Crazy Guy

I realized several days ago that my experience in Gulbahar (see "Everybody is an Engineer") actually followed a standard model for how these meetings with the locals tend to go. Last Saturday we had a similar sort of meeting with another group of villagers, for another project we're getting right to start construction on. It was essentially a pre-construction meeting to try to set realistic expectations about how much power they're going to get from this micro-hydro when it's done, and to try to get them to start some sort of rudimentary community planning to decide how to divide up the power once the project is complete.

Like what happened in Gulbahar, we expected to talk to a few elders, the contractor, and maybe some younger guys who would be involved in operation and maintenance of the equipment once the project is done. As we walked into the meeting, it became obvious that most of the village had showed up, because the classroom we were using for the meeting was overflowing with people. We said our piece and answered some questions, and as it became more and more apparent that we can't provide 100 kiloWatts just because the governor promised at the groundbreaking ceremony that we would install two 50 kW generators rather than the two 28 kW generators the site can actually support, the bickering and complaining rose dramatically. We were still able to keep some semblance of order and continue with the meeting, but I'm speaking from experience when I say that it's hard to shut up a room full of forty Afghan men once they've started having their own conversations.

Shortly after the noise level jumped, right around the time we explained that there would be limits to how much power each family could realistically take, Token Crazy Guy made his obligatory appearance. He started shouting from the back row, then he stood up and shouted some more. Apparently he has ten houses, and two light bulbs just won't do. He needs a lot more power than that, and if we can't provide it, we might as well not build anything. Even as he started ranting, other people were trying to calm him down, but he wouldn't have any of it. He shouted until he was pushed from the room, then we heard him shouting at other people outside.

Also like Gulbahar, although even more so this time, it was quite obvious that he was not representative of the group. People in the front of the room were laughing, and even the guys who were trying to push him out the door knew that he was one agitated crazy guy who probably does the same thing on a regular basis. Once he was gone, we were able to finish the conversation relatively quickly. The villagers all want 100 kW, but they know they're not going to get it from us, and I think we were able to at least start a dialogue that will enable this project to be used realistically and maintained by the villagers for a longer period of time.

So here's the general layout of how these meetings seem to go. I'll call it the Panjshiri Curve of Unrealistic Expectations, and I'm pretty sure that it could be modeled mathematically with some sort of equation. Here are the key variables: Length of time spent waiting for the project, which in this case was several years. Sense of loss and/or entitlement; at Gulbahar the sense of loss was significantly higher, this time entitlement seems to have dominated. Time of day (only really relevant during Ramadan); later in the day means more hunger and dehydration, so probably relatively more impact of tobacco and whatever else is available to be smoked, resulting in a lower threshold for excitability. Average age in the room; in this case we had a wall lined with old men, with Token squarely in the middle.

When you plot it out, the shape of the curve varies, but the common thread always seems to be the crazy guy who appears right at the apogee. In Gulbahar it was a steady buildup to his appearance, followed by a quick drop as the meeting rapidly ended. In Korovah yesterday it was a smooth ascent, Token's outburst, and a smooth descent back to relative calm. Sometimes there are multiple smaller peaks that build up to a really big one, such as when I tried to convince Haji Akbar and his villagers that assaulting the excavator operator wouldn't be the best course of action to get them help digging out from the mudslide that followed the June flood. Haji Akbar would show up, quickly start to shout, storm off or get dragged away by other villagers, and then reappear several minutes later for another show. That whole scene ended with him in the middle of the road shouting at anybody who would listen, and the rest of the villagers smiling and waving and thanking us for coming as we drove away.

What's the point? Again, I don't know. In a way these experiences are kind of amusing, and they make for good stories after the fact. I think we're also managing to accomplish something productive each time; it's a slow and gradual process, but if nothing else, at least when Token Crazy Guy starts his tirade, it helps everyone else keep things in perspective, so maybe it's for the best after all.