Yes, indeed: Fuck the World.
I have been really pissy today with due cause: some of the stuff which was not stolen in the riots has since gone missing although we packed it up and brought it to the new house ourselves. My brand spanking new mandolin (no Shaker pie any time soon), brand new frying pan and knives. All imported from the US, of course. Fucking brilliant that I got my shipment from the states exactly four days before the riots. Allowing me time to unpack everything and lay it out in neat little rows for hoodlum Spandi kids to get their grubby mits on after they busted through my front door.
Adding to the irritation is work. There is a certain foreigner with whom I work who is about to find out what time it is. Maybe I am placing all of my frustration on her, but other people I work with are corroborating my assumptions and it is not long before there will be a mutiny. She (being in a position of authority higher than me) hired her friend for a senior expatriate position, takes the credit for every time I bust my ass and turn out something extraordinary, alienates the Afghan staff and talks shit about them when they are not around, and has personally attacked me. What can I do?
So, fuck the world. At least this anger is fueling three mile runs after work.
Here are the rules that were in effect in Afghanistan until November 2001:
General Presidency of Amr Bil Maruf. Kabul, December 1996.
1. To prevent sedition and female uncovers (Be Hejabi). No drivers are allowed to pick up women who are using Iranian burqa. In case of violation the driver will be imprisoned. If such kind of female are observed in the street their house will be found and their husband punished. If the women use stimulating and attractive cloth and there is no accompany of close male relative with them, the drivers should not pick them up.
2. To prevent music. To be broadcasted by the public information resources. In shops, hotels, vehicles and rickshaws cassettes and music are prohibited. This matter should be monitored within five days. If any music cassette found in a shop, the shopkeeper should be imprisoned and the shop locked. If five people guarantee the shop should be opened the criminal released later. If cassette found in the vehicle, the vehicle and the driver will be imprisoned. If five people guarantee the vehicle will be released and the criminal released later.
3. To prevent beard shaving and its cutting. After one and a half months if anyone
observed who has shaved and/or cut his beard, they should be arrested and imprisoned until their beard gets bushy.
4. To prevent keeping pigeons and playing with birds. Within ten days this habit/
hobby should stop. After ten days this should be monitored and the pigeons and any other playing birds should be killed.
5. To prevent kite-flying. The kite shops in the city should be abolished.
6. To prevent idolatory. In vehicles, shops, hotels, room and any other place pictures/portraits should be abolished. The monitors should tear up all pictures in the above places.
7. To prevent gambling. In collaboration with the security police the main centres
should be found and the gamblers imprisoned for one month.
8. To eradicate the use or addiction. Addicts should be imprisoned and investigation made to find the supplier and the shop. The shop should be locked and the owner and user should be imprisoned and punished.
9. To prevent the British and American hairstyle. People with long hair should be arrested and taken to the Religious Police department to shave their hair. The criminal has to pay the barber.
10. To prevent interest on loans, charge on changing small denomination notes and
charge on money orders. All money exchangers should be informed that the above three types of exchanging the money should be prohibited. In case of violation criminals will be imprisoned for a long time.
11. To prevent washing cloth by young ladies along the water streams in the city. Violator ladies should ‘be picked up with respectful Islamic manner, taken to their houses and their husbands severely punished.
12. To prevent music and dances in wedding parties. In the case of violation the head of the family will be arrested and punished.
13. To prevent the playing of music drum. The prohibition of this should be an-
nounced. If anybody does this then the religious elders can decide about it.
14. To prevent sewing ladies clothes and taking female body measures by tailor. If women or fashion magazines are seen in the shop the tailor should be imprisoned.
15. To prevent sorcery. All the related books should be burnt and the magician should be imprisoned until his repentance.
16. To prevent not praying and order gathering pray at the bazaar. Prayer should be done on their due times in all districts. Transportation should be strictly prohibited and all people are obliged to go to the mosque. If young people are seen in the shops they will be immediately imprisoned.
This is the account that one of my co-workers wrote who stayed behind the day of the riots. Damn, this makes my stomach turn and just makes me mad all over again.
HRD Manager, account of the Monday, May 29, 2006 (Jawza 8, 1385) incident.
The demonstration that I found out about only a few minutes earlier was becoming more intensified by 11:00 am which is why we decided to send the international staff home.
To find out exactly what was happening, I took a rented car to Taimany where I faced a group of angry demonstrators on the 7th street. I returned to the office and asked Shah Mohammad to evacuate the office completely. Shoaib, Driver, and I accompanied the last two international staff to the International Guesthouse. On our way back to the office, we were caught in the middle of the demonstration in front of the Attorney General’s office. I asked Shoaib to take the car back to the guesthouse and I walked along the demonstrators to the office, pretending to be one of them. The demonstrators dismantled the security box in front of the Attorney General’s office and set it on fire in the middle of the road.
When I came back to the office, I found that a small number of the staff had not left the office, including two female staff, from Admin and an income generation staff and her children (later I found out the two kindergarten teachers and a handful of kids were hiding in the kindergarten). I asked Ramazan, our Admin Assistant, who had also remained behind, to take them to a safe location. He took them through Kolola Pushta to a safe place before returning to the office.
I, along with 14 other staff, stayed at the office during the looting and the fire. Those who had stayed behind did not to hesitate to protect the office. Their courageous actions saved much of the organization’s properties, assets and the entire adjacent building, about 50 rooms, along with furniture and equipments. They rescued more than 20 vehicles, 6 large generators, approximately 90 computers, 55 printers, 9 stores (containers) 2 of which were storage of fuel, oils and vehicle’s spare parts etc. The credit of having all the remaining stuff in our office goes to these people.
We locked all the entrance doors to the office. The crowd was approaching from two sides: Kolola Pushta and Qala-I- Fathullah. I was in front of the transport gate which was locked from inside. I watch as their leader pointed to buildings to be attacked. They damaged the security box in front of WFP office (located next to the office). Next, they tried to attack our gate but the transport gate was too strong for them to break down so they moved on to join the crowd coming from Qala-i– Fathullah toward Shar-I- Naw, all the while breaking our windows around the corner. As this was happening, I managed to move to the other end of the building, in front of the mosque, watching them move away. When they cleared our building, I went back to the office and assured my colleagues that the mob was gone.
At 12:30 the mob returned from Shar-I- Naw, and broke the wooden gates located in north side of the main office. Over 100 people raided the office in looting what they could and destroying the rest. Later, one of my colleagues told me that a gunman was standing next to the finance department, his head wrapped in a handkerchief. I soon realized that, even though we were doing our best, we could not resist them because they were a handful of people with guns among the crowd. I did not want to risk any of our colleagues’ lives. I though that they were a group of thieves, who would leave after they took what they wanted. I never thought that they would finish their action by setting the office on fire.
I could hear the flames but was not able to see them. I kept looking all around to see where it was coming from. And suddenly there it was, all powerful and engulfing everything in its path. The steel bars on the windows, meant for protection, had now become an obstacle against salvaging equipments.
The fire was soon raging out of control and no matter how hard we tried we could not put it out. The staff was looking to me for guidance, but I was concerned for their safety. I had to tell them to back away. Watching the office burn was like watching my own home burn and not be able to do anything about it. This will be one of the worst memories that I will carry through life; the office bunt as I looked on helplessly.
While we were fighting the fire, one of the looters was stealing a laptop and a DVD player but was not able to go through the main gate which was on fire. Assuming we too were looters, he asked us for help over the western wall. We gave him a hand and more before we locked him up in the transport department.
Another young looter who was throwing items to his gang from the kindergarten roof , was apprehended by one of our colleagues and joined the other looter at our makeshift jail.
Three invaders entered the car park and tried to steal a Corolla when Yama, our Mechanic, ran after them and told to get out of the car. They found the car first and that there are plenty more for him to choose from. At this point Yama reached in through the open window and pulled out of the driver. A group of our staff joined him and rescued the car. Yama ceased another car-thief who told him that he was a staff member. He joined the rest at the transport department.
Nasim, the Head of IT and Communication, did his best to save the finance department’s server from, but despite his heroic act that brought him to a few feet from the fire, he was not able to save the server.
Nasim was fighting the fire off from the generators and three guards were fighting the fire away from the next building. I sent the cars out of the office, we carried the damaged cars away from the wall of the burned building and succeeded to pull out one the generators but we couldn’t take out the second one.
To prevent the spread of the fire to the next building we pulled out all the cloths and furniture from the office’s shop. I asked the staff to take out all remaining materials out of the office. We took out 14 laptops, 2 satellite phones, 1 IT Server, radio sets and computers and put them all in a car which driver Hanif took to Mr. Ebadi’s house who is an employee of the Parwan office; we sent 8 cars to Shir’s house.
I asked Ehsan and Satar, a Guard, to keep a watch from the Kindergarten’s roof and I went outside to stand by the mosque next to the office. I watched as a small group of looters returned back from Haji Yaqoob square and broke into the reception. I followed them and with the help of a group of our staff ceased them. Our staff continued their heroic acts and after throwing the mob out of the reception and removed a couch that they had set on the fire. It was timely act that protected the second building and offices from the fire.
The Fire Department refused to get involved without protection. So we all watched as our dear home burnt.
1. Shir, Driver; took 8 vehicles and some other stuff to his house, resisted the looters on the street and retuned them back to THE OFFICE in good condition.
2. Yama, Assistant Mechanic, beside saving a laptop and a VCD player that he took from the looters, he saved 3 vehicles by taking them out of the office.
3. Humayon, Guard; despite his disability, he acted bravely.
4. Ihsanullah, managed to grab a camera from a looter and take pictures of the office while burning.
5. Shafi, Guard, he acted bravely
6. Satar, Guard, he acted bravely and he was very active and became very tired in that day
7. Abdul Wahab, Guard; he acted bravely.
8. Khoja Sayed Jan, he acted bravely by pushing back the rioters from reception.
9. Baseer, Mechanic, took coaster van full of shop stuff and some other things for safe keeping
10. Shoaib driver; he acted bravely
11. Fazel Guard he acted bravely
12. Nasim, Head of IT and Communications, did his best to save properties and collected about 13 laptops, sat phones, radio sets and a few desktops and put them in a car and took to Mr. Ebadi’s house, we received it back in good condition
13. Wahab Mechanic; he acted bravely and saved a vehicle by taking it for safe keeping during the riot
14. Ramazan; he took Samira, Misha and Ferozan with her children from the office to their houses in very bad condition. Also he assisted others in pushing back the rioters from reception.
1. Sayed Khalil
2. Fazel Haq
3. Musharaf driver
4. Hanif driver
5. Abdul Sabor
6. Karim,
7. Hafiz
8. Eng Sulaiman
This was in the news today. And while all of the ISAF, American and British forces are focused on the Southern Provinces like Helmand, Uruzgan, Zabul and Kandahar, the Taliban has gone and set up it own governmental office in the Southeastern province of Ghazni.
This is a big deal: mostly because Ghazni is not on the front lines. While there have been bombings and assasinations in Ghazni this year, there are no foreign military troops there to keep peace, but this is the new front. Especially when these Southeastern provinces are on no one's radar (no pun intended) and the Taliban can hang out a shingle without anyone stopping them. There are also reports that the Taliban have met with men over 60 in Ghazni center to ask them to become suicide bombers.
What's more, in talking with some of the Afghans I work with, apparently in Peshawar (in Pakistan on the border with Afghanistan), the Taliban is openly recruiting people with storefronts to travel to Afghanistan to carry out bombings, kidnappings, etc.
All of this really saddens me. When I came to Afghanistan in spring 2005, Ghazni was the first place outside of Kabul that I visited. It was gorgeous: the fruit trees were in bloom and the fields were bright green. The mud walls of the buildings and the remnants of the ancient empire that once ruled parts of India made it seem like I was in another time. It bothers me that the little girls I visited in their classroom might not be able to go to school much longer and the peaceful, sleepy town I visited might be irrevocably changed for the worse.
First, I want to point out that one cannot listen to text; conversation or dialogue yes, but you can only read text.
Two-way radio training. Since the riots and our office was burned we are all about security. Part of this new initiative is radio training. Yesterday afternoon, my boss came to ask me to come to hand-held radio training. I told her that I had been to radio training last year and that I did not need to sit around for an hour and a half to learn how to hold a walkie talkie upright. “No, this is advanced radio training, you should go.”
On the way up the stairs back to my office, I encountered two colleagues: “I hope y’all brought your crack ‘cause this is going to be the most boring shit you have ever encountered”, I warned.
The training was held in one of the burned out containers that used to house part of the finance department. Hot is not the word, the temperature was at least 98 farenheit, and without air conditioning the container was like a toaster oven. I sat down and our Afghan IT guy launched into his presentation.
The first power point slide was entitled, “What is Communication?”. I just shook my head. This was the same drawn-out remedial bullshit I had to sit through last year. I felt like standing up and saying, “What is communication? I am so happy we are addressing this question. Here I have completed graduate school and worked professionally for five years and I had no idea what the fuck communication was!”, but I restrained myself. It got worse.
While the swarm of flies in the room settled on my face, toes and hands and sweat beaded up, the IT guy took ten minutes to talk about all of the different types of communication and specifically, the types of communication we use in our offices (CODAN, VHF radios, e-mail, cellular phones, smoke signals, carrier pigeons). My boss told him to cut to the chase, and was backed-up by the finance manager.
So we fast forwarded to the section about “How to Speak Over the Radio”. I swear to god, some of the bulleted points included, “do not shout” and “speak in short sentences”. Then, there were definitions of radio lingo that included, “hello: a greeting”, “out: the conversation is finished” and a stern lecture about not using phrases like “roger, over and out” because they are WRONG and anyone who says them will go to hell. Then we talked about the “wolume” (volume) control and were subjected to more slides sprinkled with misspellings and poor grammar.
Finally, my boss put her foot down: “What I need to know is not how to turn on the radio. I need to know if someone breaks into my house at night or if we have another situation like the riots, what do we do?!?” The IT guy sheepishly replied, “I only can give training on how to use the radio. Those systems are to be decided by the Security Specialist.” At that point, I got up and I walked out. Forty minutes of my life lost and two reports to submit. This is my life.
There is a place for proselytizing (arguably). Kabul, Afghanistan is not it.
That whistling sound you will hear will be rockets heading for the Kabul Olympic Stadium:
Potential For Riots/Demonstrations - Kabul. Institute of Asian Culture and Development (IACD) intend to despatch up to 2,000 South Korean nationals who have already been granted visas to enter Afghanistan. At least 60+ are already in country and the remainder are expected over the next week.
Their aim is to hold Christian religious gatherings, the first at the Kabul Olympic stadium followed by a 5 km 'peace march' through Kabul on or around 5 Aug 06. They then plan to extend their religious activities to Mazar, Herat, Kandahar and Bamyan 7 Aug onwards. The IACD will initially be 'camping out' at the Kabul Olympic stadium.
• Most security and NGO actors are taking the threat from these marches as potentially extremely serious as they could easily trigger a violent backlash from elements of the local community.
Dear Oprah,
I will preface this letter by saying that I appreciate your attention to what is going on in Afghanistan and I understand that you would like to squeeze every last drop of tear-jerking sympathy from the American people over 9/11 to increase your ratings. After all, you are a businesswoman; I appreciate that.
But the purpose of this letter is to inform you of what your staff has been doing to my staff over the past week. Approximately five days ago someone from Harpo contacted one of my employees--who happens to speak Persian--and asked her to go out and videotape some Afghan widows for a "surprise" story for some 9/11 widows who support said Afghan widows. My employee, being a nice person (although somewhat of a milquetoast at times), kindly agreed and loaded up her video camera and one of our public relations staff and went out into one of the futher districts of the capital to get the "story" for your show.
After four hours of sitting in the sun and prodding these poor, bashful Afghan widows to talk about how they feel about the donation these 9/11 widows gave to them, my employee returned with the tape. We had no problem doing the filming, although it took away from our busy schedules, because it is good publicity for our organization.
However, once we finished taping, your staff realized that it would take too long to DHL the tape, so sending over a satellite feed was the only option--but NO--your staff would not pony up the grand for the uplink. Instead, Harpo asked one of the handful of expatriate staff members of this organization (who supports about 1000 Afghan staff) to take time out of her day to transcribe what the widows said. Your staff had to find out what the widows said first to see if it was "worth" the $1000 to send via satellite!
After the tape was transcribed and your staff read the text, they proposed that my employee fly to fucking PAKISTAN to feed the tape because it would be "cheaper"! I am sorry, Oprah, but we have JOBS that involve helping the poor of Afghanistan to live in dignity and are not your lackeys who can drop everything and fly to Pakistan so you can get your story.
But, no matter: you will get your tape. I almost broke BOTH my legs getting to the Embassy to hand the tape off to some guy going to Washington tonight (Musharaff had the roads blocked so I had to hustle). So the tape will be there by the time you tape on the 12th. You can thank me later. I just hope that the donors for our other $25 million worth of projects do not drop our funding for getting our reports in late.
Sincerely,
Confection
P.S. I expect to be reimbursed for the postage.
They said there were six VBIEDs in the city that the Taliban is just waiting to set off.
This morning's makes number two.
I was sitting at the computer when I heard the explosion (which must have been big because we are across town). Then I got a message from my friend at the Embassy: "Can't make it to dinner tonight--we have been attacked". She thought it was a rocket, but it was a suicide car bomb.
Kabul, you look more like Baghdad every day.
If you look in my gallery you will see pictures of a co-worker's engagement party. One of people killed in this attack was the brother of the groom.
Road Blast in Afghanistan Kills Three Aid Workers
Anti-Taliban Offensive Launched in 5 Provinces
By Pamela Constable
Washington Post Foreign Service
Sunday, September 17, 2006; Page A18
KABUL, Afghanistan, Sept. 16 -- Three Afghan aid workers were killed Saturday when their vehicle hit a bomb on a highway just south of the capital, while 7,000 Afghan and U.S. troops launched an operation against Taliban insurgents in five eastern and central provinces.
Police said the unidentified aid workers were killed and a fourth was injured when a remote-controlled bomb exploded under their vehicle. The attack was the fourth major bombing in eight days.
Yes, the restrictions on liquids are relaxed, but how does this affect my Duty Free purchases?!?!?
Ugh, I hate flying to America. I hope they shake me the fuck down like they did in Frankfurt a year ago. Trying to prove that you work in Afghanistan and are not a terrorist is not as easy as it sounds. I was forced to bust out my employer-issued ID with the photo of me looking angelic (and Iranian) in my chador. The old American ladies working the counter finally let me through, but the Azeri American who worked for the State Department (!!!) was not so lucky. Ah, profiling. It really doesn't matter what passport you hold or where you work, they can keep you from your flight if you are not the right color.
So this will be my 22nd time crossing the Atlantic. Crying babies, farting Indians, Xanax and red wine are par for course. I hope this will all be reflected on my frequent flyer miles.
I just heard that there were two bombings this morning. Rather than being concerned, here I am still working on a project design. I was thinking the other day how I have totally become desensitized to what is happening around me. I rationalize that the bombings are only targeting the military or the government, not me. It is a strange strategy of acceptance and I wonder if it will change once I leave. I really hope so.
(I totally work with those two guys in the last panel!)
I just heard something strange from an Afghan guy I work with and a co-worker who speaks Dari corroborated that she had heard the same thing.
Apparently, the American forces are supplying the Taliban. The guy I talked to said with food, but my co-worker said munitions. Also, there are stories about Afghans fighting the Taliban who capture Taliban fighters, turn them over to ISAF (the International Security Assistance Force) and then capture the same guys fighting for the Taliban weeks later at which point the Taliban tell their captors, "you guys are stupid--the Americans are supporting us too!"
This could all be bullshit. But why would the Americans be supporting the Taliban? Is it a tactic of spreading these rumors among Afghans so that they will not support Americans and NATO/ISAF troops? I wonder.
I know you all thought that an UXO (unexploded ordinance) had gotten to me, but in reality I was in America ("Amrika") for the past month.
Some disturbing American trends:
-Crocs (you saw that coming): mostly sighted on overweight women who do not comb their hair and, cruelly, small children under the age of six;
-Drivers from Virginia and Ohio taking to the roads;
-Cell phone usage: On at least three occasions women were talking on their phones IN THE TOILET STALL NEXT TO ME. This seemed to happen often at Atlanta Hartsfield Airport. (Why is it so impossible to conjure up disgusting noises when they are most appropriate?);
-Cell phone usage with the cyber head gear: A guy in CVS paced up and down the aisles breaking up with his girlfriend LOUDLY while I was trying to select glitter for my workshop poster session--he was wearing one of this god-awful things;
-Leggings: Need I explain?
-Capri Pants (AKA "Clam Diggers"): Again, do I really need to tell all of the 5'1" women out there that these make you look dowdy and even shorter? Nothing says "granny" like capri knit pants and a matching shirt and cardigan!
Well, at least the disturbing things in America are not this disturbing.
Hey Afghanistan--things are not all bad. In a few months all of those unbought Crocs will turn up over here as American aid.
Over the past four days, it has snowed in Kabul. This is strange because usually there isn’t snow until after the first of the year and usually it doesn’t snow for more than a few hours at a time. As a result, the airport has closed. The Kabul airport has no radar equipment, and therefore the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF, i.e. Coalition Forces) who runs the airport would not allow planes to land without three miles visibility. My boss (Suka) has been stuck in Dubai for the past three days and there are consultants and various others stuck either here, in Dubai, in Pakistan and in other parts of Afghanistan. Welcome to the 21st century.
Snow is not the only thing accumulating in Kabul. Consider the following, clear indications that it is time to get the hell out of Dodge:
1. My boss (Dutch) has requested that all international staff submit to him, in sealed envelopes, three proof of life questions in case we get kidnapped. (This reminds me of when my coworker was kidnapped last year and the security guy when to her house to “get some DNA” in case she didn’t come back alive.);
2. This article and
3. The Taliban Code which inclues this passage:
Those NGOs that come to the country under the rule of the infidels must be treated as the government is treated. They have come under the guise of helping people but in fact are part of the regime. Thus we tolerate none of their activities, whether it be building of streets, bridges, clinics, schools, madrases (schools for Koran study) or other works. If a school fails to heed a warning to close, it must be burned. But all religious books must be secured beforehand.
(I work for an NGO.)
Next week I am interviewing for jobs in Africa and Southeast Asia. I can't wait until I can file all the "things I worry about" under "not my problem".
Caliente!
The husband and I were reluctantly stuck in Dubai for Christmas Eve and Christmas on our way back to Afghanistan because the Kabul airport was closed due to snow. My husband was recuperating from a nasty bout of food poisoning brought on by some questionable pork fried rice consumed in Thailand, but we decided to venture out to the Diera City Center mall anyway. (Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I fucking HATE Dubai. There is nothing to do but troll the malls while trying to suppress the DTs brought on by the lack of alcohol, save for the $8 cans of Heineken at the overpriced hotels).
Bored, with nothing but a spirit-free hotel room or more mall, we decided to go see a movie. I chose Babel, not because the hottest man in the world is in it, but because I supposed it would be a thought-provoking drama about bridging cultural differences between the “developed” North and “underdeveloped” South. Boy, was I wrong.
Now, I saw the toned-down “Arab version” which left out a lot of nudity, but kept in the scene where the 12-year-old Moroccan boy beats off to his 10-year-old sister and where the estranged couple reunites over a bed pan, and what was the relevance of the deaf Japanese girl trying to have her dentist molest her? It just seemed way too long, too sexualized and too—vapid. The movie just reinforced streotypes. There was no real look at issues, no examination of why the North African police beat suspects or why Americans automatically assume that any act of violence in a Muslim country is assumed to be terrorism, it was just three hours of filler with no point.
(However, I do have a point.)
As we left the theater, I asked my husband, “what did we learn from this?” He replied, “never to let you pick a movie again?” No. The lesson is: brown people get fucked, while white people with the right passports will get their stupid asses saved in any situation.
And being in the Dubai airport brought this all home. While my husband and I could hop in a cab and head to the Sheraton for the night, the Afghans waiting on the same flight had to sleep on the concrete floor of the airport. They had no visas, no money, no food, no family in UAE to help them. The airline (Kam Air, you fucking bitches!) only gave these 150-plus Afghans food coupons on the THIRD DAY after the flight was cancelled. Most of them were being deported for being in the Emirates illegally.
When will the media really look at how the rest of the world lives? When will films examine all the things that we white, privileged folk take for granted? Probably not soon, and Hollywood has just shown us that. While critics rave about the “serious drama” about “real issues” in movies like Babel, I just roll my eyes.
I love these guys. I love their angry, cynical, left-wing diatribes.
Happy New Year and Eid Mubarak everyone--I am off to make fudge, royal icing and a cheese ball.
I want to start out by saying I know cold. I have lived in Siberia for two years and have seen my share of -53 degrees days. However, not even a stint in a Soviet gulag could prepare me for the cold I now have to endure in Kabul, without the warmth of a coal-burning electrical plant to fire my radiators in the depth of the Central Asian night.
A lot of people assume that Afghanistan is a warm place, that it is mostly desert and that it rarely dips below 80 degrees. For those people I have two words: Altitude, baby. Kabul sets in the Hindu Kush mountain range and the capital is about 4800 feet above sea level. Its location between hell and the devil’s anus means that summers are long, dry and hot and winters are snowy, cold, and also long.
Now, I know that everyone bitches and complains about cold weather. Even in Atlanta, I have known people to work themselves up over 50 degrees during the winter. However, these people have access to central heating and constant electricity. Here in Afghanistan, there is no electricity. Sure, during the summer there is central power almost 12 hours a day, but in the winter, you are lucky to get six hours every two days. Central heating is unheard of. That heat pump you’ve got out back or that sputtering radiator in the kitchen--Afghanistan has not seen technology like that since General Najibullah was around.
In order to keep warm, Afghans (and white folk like me) use bukhari. These are little stoves with chimneys that feed into the wall. Generally, these are diesel or wood burning and need to be refueled every few hours. They heat only one small area, so running to the bathroom at night results in a severe and immediate drop in body temperature.
Bukhari. My carbon footprint is bigger than yours!
But there is another, more sinister effect of the cold: frozen pipes. Here there is no central water system, no sewage system: wells are the name of the game. White folk (like me) generally have a well in the yard and an electric pump that forces water into a tank on top of the house. Most Afghans in the capital have this system too, but outside of Kabul most people carry water in buckets to their houses—all year. When you have a tank, the miracle of gravity brings this water to your sink, shower and toilet. Frozen pipes prevent this water from reaching your sink, shower and toilet, resulting in dirty (frozen) dishes, unwashed bodies and solid streams of urine to greet you in the morning.
This past weekend, my husband and I had the trifecta of cold-related problems: no electricity, frozen generator and frozen pipes. On Friday, we were surprised when our generator was frozen solid, so we spent the evening baking brownies by candlelight and drinking copious amounts of contraband alcohol. Saturday was even more surprising because when the generator finally started, we discovered our pipes were frozen. Forced to shower at my husband’s office on Sunday before work because we had NO water (Muslim workweek is Sunday-Thursday), I had no idea I was in for the greatest surprise of all: frozen pipes at work. Now, it is one thing to have to face your own frozen pee in the morning, but it is a whole ‘nother issue to have to stare down the excreta of your fellow employees. Plus, I had my period.
Why am I telling you this? Because I don’t want to forget how shitty (no pun intended) living in this country can be. I don’t want to think for a minute that things were OK here and not really that bad and that I could do it again. You might read articles about Afghanistan that are romantic and poetic about the country, but when it gets cold, all bets are off. The beauty is gone and all you are left with is exhaust from a diesel heater and yellow snow. I have no idea how people live here in mud brick buildings with one room and no toilet or running water. I have no idea how they sleep at night with one thin blanket and go to work wearing a patu and no coat. No idea. White folk (like me) just can’t.
The good news: I am leaving Afghanistan (Praise be to Allah).
The bad news: I am going here.
How come war gotta be declared less than ten days after I get my new job?
So over the next few weeks, I am going to wrap up my time here in Afghanistan and wrap up this blog with all the things I meant to mention about this country, but haven't yet.
I just got a text that someone has left me a voice message on my cell. None of the mobile providers in Afghanistan provide that service, but it was nice for them to let me know that somewhere out there someone has left a message for me.
You say matatu, I say FUCK YOU GET OUT OF MY WAY!
I never thought I would put this into words: Afghans are not the worst drivers in the world. That honor belongs to Ethiopians. While in Kabul drivers had to contend with crowded streets, one traffic light and men on bicycles and drove like fucking lunatics, Ethiopians have paved roads, traffic lights and traffic police and are still unable to get their heads out of their asses to drive down the road without 1) venturing into my lane or 2) pulling out in front of me without looking. Plus they are slow. Now I have stated before that Ethiopians are officially the slowest people on earth, but, overall, this does not concern me at the bread store, at the restaurant, or at the gym; but it bothers the hell out of me on the road. Added to the ignorant people in regular cars are the minibuses (matatus? Marshrutki?) of which there must be at least 500,000 in Addis alone. These little beat up junk buckets are blue and white, ill-maintained focal points for my scorn. They pick up people every ten feet, not pulling off the road to do so, and pull out into traffic without any forewarning. Plus, most do not have break lights. Just today, one pulled in front of me while I was hauling ass down Djibouti Street (that’s Mazoria 22 for all y’all old school folk), so I laid on the horn for at least 20 seconds, after which, someone in a passing car yelled, “slow down!” to which I replied, “your mother!”
Sadly, people are always telling white-girl-in-red-car to slow down. Often, when I am in first gear. Lord, people.
But let us not forget the Ethiopian PEDESTRIANS. I think the years of famine have stunted the cerebral growth of these people. They walk in the street, they stand in the street, they run out in front of my car while it’s in the street, they see how close they can get (someone actually told me these pedestrians try to get as close as possible to speeding cars for “luck”!). Sometimes, I am ashamed to admit, I will speed up when I see these people. While attempting to run down pedestrians is simply fun for me and my mom in the parking lot of our local Tennessee Wal-Mart, such actions are cathartic rush for white-girl-in-red-car in Addis Ababa.
And don’t even get me started on the donkey herds roaming the public roads.
Alas, I think I am becoming notorious. There are only so many times white-girl-in-red-car can ram vehicles who pull out in front of her on purpose on Djibouti street without attracting some vigilante justice.
I think I need to switch cars.
Dear Applicant,
Thank you for submitting your resume for the Gender Officer position in Afghanistan. There were several moderately qualified candidates and therefore, the selection was slightly difficult. I regret to inform you that you were not selected for the position due to one, or a combination of, the following:
1. You mentioned your “mental state” on your CV as “rural, urban, cosmopolitan”;
2. You sent me a long email after the phone interview explaining what you really meant to say during the interview, but just couldn’t;
3. Your writing sample included the phrase: “poverty has a women face” and/or “empowering the powerless through concretization”;
4. Your references told me how you “did not dress appropriately” when you worked in Kabul two years ago;
5. Your writing sample was 32 pages long, written in 2002, had eight annexes (including an ORGANOGRAM) and was over 1.5 MB;
6. Your writing sample had several misspellings and grammatical mistakes;
7. During the interview, you described your management style as “authoritative”.
Due to some, or all, of these reasons, we cannot extend an offer of employment to you at this time. Thank you for your interest.
Sincerely,
Confection
Last week at a staff meeting, one of the Program Managers was talking about how one of the districts where we work is “full of Talibs”.
Well, apparently, the provinces outside of Kabul are not the only place. Consider this warning from the National Defense Service:
NDS sources report that HiG (Hizb-I Islami Gulbuddin)are becoming the dominant group within Kabul district. The source reported that the grouping had been conducting a
successful recruiting campaign in the districts surrounding Kabul. As a result
an increase in attacks is expected with HiG expected to operate in
Police Districts 12, 7 and 6 of the capital. TB are traditionally strong in the Dih Sabz
area (PD9) which accounts for the concentration of attacks on Jalalabad road. (Recall the Jalalabad Road is the road one has to travel to get liquor, as well as being the road the Coalition uses in and out of Kabul.)
For those of you who are unfamiliar with HiG:
"Hezb-e Islami Gulbuddin (HIG) has long established ties with Osama Bin Ladin. (HIG) founder Gulbuddin Hikmatyar offered to shelter Bin Ladin after the latter fled Sudan in 1996. HIG has staged small attacks in its attempt to force U.S. troops to withdraw from Afghanistan, overthrow the Afghan Transitional Administration (ATA) and establish a fundamentalist state."
Gulbuddin Hikmatyar is the one who castrated Najibullah (the President of Afghanistan under the Soviets), shot him and hanged his body in Ariana square.
So the Taliban is in Kabul and ready to fight.
Not really news, but now people are talking about negiotiating with the Taliban.
My organization has been in Afghanistan for a while, so we negotiated with the Taliban to have access to provincial areas pre-2001. Last year, while implementing a shelter program in the East, we also met with Taliban leaders in one district so that supplies could be carried in. I am not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, talking to the Taliban is a necessary evil; we are non-partisan and are working in the interests of the people. On the other hand, I feel like it lends them some legitimacy and reinforces the notion that they are the decision makers. Moreover, this could possibly undermine the fragile Afghan government in areas where their power is waning; having to ask the Talibs for permission to do our work might tip the balance.
Anyway, after one month this is NOT MY PROBLEM.
The last three days of the month are always my least favorite. I am not sure how this happened, but in my previous office (in the building that was torched during the riots) and in my new office on the third floor of another building, I am right next to the fucking cashier. This means that on the last three working days of every month nearly all of the 700 Afghans working for my organization come in to get paid.
So for three solid days, there are at least fifty Afghan men (and sometimes two or three women) crammed into the narrow 3-foot wide hallway in front of my door. They like to stand in front of my office door (which opens outward), essentially blocking anyone from entering or exiting. Often, I try to open the door, only to hit someone, who will then refuse to move. If I have to walk down the hallway to anyone else’s office in the building, the bearded men in their turbans and patus stare at me as if I were naked. Added to this is the smell and the noise. The smell—well, it defies definition. I can best describe it as a mix of sausage pizza, wet dog and used maxi pad. The heat of the summer amplifies the odor.
These people like to talk while they are waiting on their monthly pay. They talk loudly and ceaselessly, forcing Schwig, my Cheesehead officemate, to go out at least three times a day to announce, “Bubakshah (excuse me) shutthefuckup. Tashakour (thank you)”. Telling the crowd to quiet down usually works for only a few minutes as there are soon more people cycling in, getting their cash, and leaving.
This is another aspect of my life in Afghanistan I don’t want to forget about. The bureaucracy, the virtually non-existent banking system, the lack of faith in the existing banking system, the dearth of running water or perceived importance of bathing; the way the men stare at women who are not in burqas, the way this stare makes me feel. I have mixed feelings about Afghanistan. I hate it, especially on days like today when I cannot fly out to Kazakhstan because of snow, but then there is the guilt of having to leave good people behind. Good people who only want to earn a little money, own a house and watch their children grow up. The guilt of being a person who just can’t relate to their situations and their needs because I have never and will never experience such circumstances.
More on that later—got to finish washing clothes.
A fitting beginnging to my last full day in Afghanistan: a window-shaking explosion at 6:45am. I had just gotten out of bed when I heard it; 20 minutes later and still no news on whether it was a rocket or an IED. (Actually, in the end, it was a gunpowder storage shop that exploded on accident.)
On a lighter note, something happened that made me laugh until my sides ached yesterday. See, there are these poor kids who hang out by the US Embassy/USAID/ISAF base in Shash Durak trying to sell things. Usually they sell newspapers or copies of the Afghan Scene, or chewing gum. These kids are RELENTLESS, springing into action at the sight of a foreigner, repeating "gum, madam? Gum? Madam, one dollar, gum?" Yesterday, I was running to have a quick beer with my friend Sas who is stuck in the USAID compound when I had to pass ISAF and the throng of kids. One jumped out in front of me with a plastic snake. "Snake, madam?"
So today is my last day. Praise to Allah.
