Day 7: The Mud

I don't think I'll ever look at a mound of dirt quite the same again since our trek to the village of Khowjagher about eight miles northeast of "home base." Prior to the mission, the planner briefed us of intelligence reports that a VBED (vehicle born explosive devise) was used along a main roadway we use quite often earlier that morning.

He said we should be watchful of roadside IEDs too. Though I'm not quite sure what that entails given the nature of the rubble strewn throughout the country.

In any case, we weren't going to take that road this particular morning he said, then adding calmly, "But you never know when it's coordinated attack day."

The trip to Khowjagher took us over potted, deep rutted roads -- and at one time through a mud village with high reaching walls and narrow allies that would have been perfect for an Indiana Jones movie set. Like an opening segment to a Tarantino special, our Afghan driver popped in his personal cassette and 2Live Crew erupted from the speakers of the vehicle as we bounced along the road.

Even so, I couldn't help but focus in on every mound of dirt, every mud structure that seemed out of place ... I watched the body language of everyone we passed. Some waved, some just stared. Everything, to me, seemed out of place -- especially me.

Once at the village we quickly met with the Malik or elder statesman, Khan Mohamed; he said they were in dire need of a school house, a well and a medical clinic. Dozens of children ran around acting like children do, they grabbed at my pens and tried to talk me out of my camera set in broken English.

After determining the makeup of the village (some 700 plus children and 200 families), our contingent determined it would be appropriate to try funding both the school and new well.

The Malik seemed happy, as were the rest who looked on, but showed some reservations as -- like we Americans -- he'll believe it when he sees it.

The proposal, if approved, should ensure he'll "see it" this October or November at the latest. At which time we will have made another believer, but until then any promises will be met with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Day six

It's actually day five and half, having arrived late on day one. In any case, the heat has been noticeably hotter the last couple of days. I can tell summer in Afghanistan will be quite searing. I'm also told winter is just as harsh.

I'm trying to fall into a routine of sorts, trying to sleep all night through instead of waking up at 2 a.m., I've cut off the intake of fluids at 7 p.m. I also brought a little of home here to make the transition easier -- I brew up my beloved green tea every morning. I hit the gym three or four times a week, though at night instead of mid afternoon as was customary.

My MP3 player made the trip with me and I rely on email to keep in touch with anyone and everyone. This blog serves as a normalizer of sorts.

I hope to get some visuals this weekend for the blog ... a picture being worth 1,000 words and such.

Nothing scarier than a zealot

“Guy,” my boss told me as we watched the World Trade Center Towers implode on 9/11, “there’s nothing scarier then a zealot.”

A zealot, in simple terms, is an excessively zealous person, a fanatic.

Today, it’s probably more common to think of a zealot as someone willing to die for a cause – someone who straps explosives to his torso, walks into a restaurant and then, following a quick prayer, takes out 20 to 30 non sectarians.

Many years on since 9/11, most people commonly refer to them as “extremists,” someone who isn’t concerned with the needs or viewpoint of others; someone that believes in their own cultural or sub-cultural supremacy or religion to a point that it makes compromise impossible. Yet, regardless of the descriptor it seems to me there is more political uncertainty and challenges to societal norms today than ever before.

It’s ironic that, since the end of the Cold War, radicals no longer have polarizing superpowers to align themselves with, which provided some measure of oversight. Instead, we have many smaller autonomous splinter groups with independent views on a Utopian society -- each carrying religion and cultural zeal to extreme. This, of course, is counter to what we as Americans believe in and fight for.

As Americans we strive for “Cultural Acceptance.” We're a melting pot of religions, languages, talents and, yes, flaws -- we see it only fitting to welcome each as an important member of the American dream, diversity a strength rather than a weakness.

In our “world” people of various religions, races, and socioeconomic status live, work and play together as equals. While we may not see eye-to-eye on everything, we respect the opinion of others and tend to engage in, at times, heated social discourse to affect reform; this, rather than violent exchange.

This is not to say our society is perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination, but our hearts are in the right place. It’s also why, while much of the international community may criticize our efforts in the press, behind the scenes they continue to look towards us for economic and social guidance. It's also why we've taken such ideals to Afghanistan, hoping a little of the diversity rubs off on their fledgling democracy.

So as our young men and women continue to make the sacrifices they do around the globe, keep in mind they’re doing so as ambassadors spreading cultural acceptance, religious freedom and equality. Sometimes this gets lost in the worldwide media frenzy all too eager to highlight our imperfections.

Bring the heat

Today, day four in country, brought a nice taste of the summer months to come. It must have nipped at the 90 degree mark; the morning welcomed me with a nice dust storm off in the distance making it hard to discern the mountains normally so easily viewed.

The bits of dirt stuck to my face, my eyes got crusty and irritated. It didn't stop me from taking my first trip to check out some local merchants selling rugs, knock off watches, local crafts, custom made suits etc. I've been on such trips before, and in many different countries. What I've noticed is that these are a creative people -- they'll make money the old fashioned way. And if commerce takes hold and is provided the political stability to thrive, so will they.

The country, like Dubai, is under construction. Here, however, it centers around military infrastructure -- at least in the beginning. The coalition is training up the future of Afghanistan's military and national police to ensure the stability needed to turn the corner is achieved from an economical and social perspective. Police enjoy a major show of force on the roads in Kabul and the new national police are professionals worthy of respect by the citizens they protect.

I have no doubt that, given the opportunity, they (Afghans) will succeed -- they've been through worse over the years.

A trip to the box: Rectifying a wrong

The box refers to the sandbox, or any number of countries we're now deeply entrenched in throughout the Middle East. My sandbox is Afghanistan for the time being, the trip here was largely an excruciatingly painful stay aboard various aircraft, in terminals and in hotels.

Total time was somewhere in the neighborhood of two days -- including three nights in two separate hotels, 20 hours in the air, and 10 hours loitering in terminals while awaiting another flight. Seven of those hours were spent in Amsterdam alone, staring at two or three dozen others in the same predicament -- waiting on a trip to Dubai.

On the positive side, I caught up on all the movies that have come out recently: "No country for old men," "I am Legend," "American Gangster," "Meet the Spartans," and "Charlie Wilson's War." The latter an appropriate watch given where I was headed.

One could actually argue it foreshadowed American presence in Afghanistan now, and its efforts not to leave our allies "hanging," like we did following the defeat of the Soviets there nearly two decades ago.

“Those things happened. They were glorious, and they changed the world. And then we fucked up the endgame."

-- Charlie Wilson's War

We (the U.S.) have the reputation overseas of pulling out of difficult situations with unfinished business left behind. It's the equivalent of tossing a mongoose into a snake pit and then leaving as the carnage begins.

Our presence in Iraq and Afghanistan is, in large part, an effort to rectify such perception. The question is whether we (those who make up the coalition effort) have the political foresight and strength of character to stay the course until stability is restored.

It's a tall order given our nation's zest for quick fixes -- instant gratification on a global scale. That's a story for later though -- back to the trip.

I arrived in Dubai at midnight of the 16th. It was still in the low 80s. People say that some 150 ethnic peoples live and work in Dubai, and judging by the throngs of ex pats gathered at the terminal, it may very well be spot on.

It was hot as hell there.Your eyes burn from the sun glare off the sand ... my dress shoes -- once a sparkling brown -- were quickly covered in white powder.The local culture is an eclectic mix of Middle Eastern, Asian and European ex-pats. The whole country, from my vantage point, was under construction. I was told by a young lady sitting next to me on the plane over that we (outsiders) can own land/property etc. in Dubai. I plan on finding out, since it would be nice to have a condo overlooking the beach here.

I spent two nights in Dubai and flew into Kabul on May 18th: it was a fabulous ride ... up 'til the time we entered the valley in which Kabul sits. The plane met with heavy winds which blew it from side to side, up and down ... violent jerks had passengers grabbing for arm rests, there was a pucker factor. At the last minute the pilot thought better of setting it down during the first go and essentially made it a "touch and go." The second time around he came in "hotter" and positioned himself a tad bit better.

Afghanistan is hot and dusty also; the people friendly enough. I'm surrounded by very nice looking mountains -- the heat a dry heat so far. My understanding is that the winters are harsh.