Gun-Brutes

One of my co-workers just got back from a little road trip up north. In addition to seeing some awesome scenery, including the cliffs where the Buddhist statues used to be before the Taliban blew them up, he had the chance to meet some of the aid workers who are out there doing good deeds. His rather apt description of their view of us was, 'Gun-Brutes'. The fact that he travel armed was enough to destroy his credibilty (and some of his humanity) in their eyes. This in a country where ten-year-olds sometimes carry AKs, and warlords have personal fleets of working tanks to secure their opium production. I would suspect that certain people within my own circle of acquaintances might easily share the perspective of these earnest, hard-working people who are just trying to help this nation recover. I was once a Quaker, and I still call myself one, though perhaps I've strayed from the fold. It is unfortunate that we should feel the need to carry weapons here, but I would sooner go naked than not carry. After all, its hard to ignore the fact that most of the westerners getting killed over here are unarmed UN election workers, who are out there with the best of intentions. "Carrry thy sword as long as thou canst." I guess I'll be carrying mine little while longer.

Airport

I rode out to the airport today to pick up some things, and I was struck by how different it looks from the first time I walked through the doors into Afghanistan. I guess I'm just used to being here now. We put up a big front at the airport; jump out of the car with guns ready and try to look tough while we do our business. I guess it makes sense, since there is a lot of traffic there and its a good place to spot us internationals as we come in. The real trick here seems to be letting everyone know that there are easier people to mess with than us. I have quickly become accustomed to looking over my shoulder, scanning people for threats, taking my anti-malarial dailies and always drinking bottled water. I think the differences only become apparent when, months from now, I pack up and leave this place and go back to the states. Then I'll have to learn to once again obey traffic signals and not reach for my gun all the time.

Cricket

Ok, I know this blog is supposed to be about Afganistan, but le me digress:

Cricket, that noble sport which was obviously invented to make Americans feel even more stupid and unsophisticated.....I was sitting around today, waiting for somethings I needed for a job to show up and I happened to see some guys on the TV playing cricket. I guess our DirectTV comes off of Arabsat, or something. Anyways, these guys in ridiculous-looking helmets kept running back and forth, throwing balls at each other and swinging what may well be the most cumbersome bludgeon ever devised (thank the British, the same people who brought us the MG, the Vincent Black Shadow and driving on the left). If anyone can and would care to explain the rules (if there are any) and perhaps the origin of this noble pursuit, I would appreciate it greatly. Oh, and Nikita, pass my condolences on to the boy, it looks like the Sox are going to have to wait until next year. Cowboy Up!

Little Uzbekistan

The other day we were driving through Kabul on our way back to the compound and decided to try and circumvent the rush hour traffic by taking the road less traveled by. This can be a big mistake in any major city, but Kabul has a particular lack of deliberate urban planning once you leave the major thoroughfares. So we wound up in this mud-brick barrio of winding alleys which is entirely populated by asiatic Afghans. Afganistan is supposed to be a place of incredible ethnic diversity, but I hadn't really seen any illustration of that before. I think the people there were a little surprised to see us: four white guys with guns in a ford Excursion which was almost larger than the streets on which we were driving. In retrospect the stares were not hostile, those people were just unacustomed to seeing us in their neighborhood. Feeling ourselves to be on the verge of being hopelessly lost, and with the walls literally closing in around us, we found a wide spot at an intersection and turned around. When I climbed out of the truck -gun in hand- to assist the driver in turning around a young man on a bicycle gave me a little nod as if to thank me for being careful of the houses on either side of the narrow street. Throughout this adventure I was reminded that we are precariously situated among these people, and it is only with their consent that we are suffered to remain here. As a former marine I am used to having a lot of strength behind me; air support, artillery, reaction forces. Here we cannot afford the same level of arrogant detachment that our more heavily armed brethren often demonstrate. Today the kids brought us T-Shirts with Afghani hero Ahmed Shah Masoud on them. For six shirts they received sixty dollars, which is a reasonable monthly salary around here. I don't mind getting hustled though, because at least these children smile at us when we roll down the street.

Afghani Traffic Laws

Here are the rules for driving in Kabul, near as I can make them out:
1. The biggest car has the right of way, unless the little car is being driven by someone with a suicidal level of courage.

2. Honking your horn repeatedly is a good substitute for all signals.

3. One-way roads are always one way, unless you are in a hurry.

4. Traffic police are more of an adornment to the intersection than something to take seriously.

5. Donkeys always have right of way....for exceptions to this rule, see rule number one.

6. Under no circumstances should you ever let someone into your lane....ever.

Come to think of it, its a lot like Boston

Eclipse

Last night we were on the roof of the DynCorp house downtown. The dust kicks up all day, so you can't see the mountains. The sun was setting, casting no more light than the full moon for all the dust in the air. Then a crag appears in front of the sun, invisible to that point in the haze. It was an alien sight, the dust blowing across the sun. Meanwhile, down in the street, the little kids were yelling up at us to come down and buy wooden snakes and cheap sunglasses.

Kabul, June 14th

The mountains of Afghanistan look the way mountains are supposed to. They rise steeply out of the valley just outside of Kabul, nothing but rock spires and talus slopes. I don't look up at them much- in the daytime you can't really see them for all the dust in the air. Kabul is amazing, a crush of humanity surrounded by absolutely barren land. Everyone has carved there on little pockets in the city, maintained by walls and guards with guns. Private security, US soldiers, International peacekeepers all driving around on streets overwhelmed by taxis and bicycles. On the way through town you can drive by a dozen compounds with armed guards and have no idea who is in any of them. We went to a US base yesterday to buy some things and had to walk through a metal detector, which was hilarious because we were all carrying submachine guns.