Images of Kabul

January 23, 2009 It has been two weeks since I have posted on my blog from Kabul. I have struggled to be faithful to my vow to write daily, but when the time comes to put pen to paper – or digits to keyboard – my head starts swimming with images: donkey carts, fruit peddlers, children hawking chewing gum, women in burkas sitting in the middle of the busiest streets in Kabul begging for money, Barack Obama taking the oath of office in Washington, DC, brought to me and thousands of elated Afghans courtesy of CNN.

Today is my day off – my “weekend,” as Kabul operates on a 6-day work week with Friday the designated day of rest – and I aim to catch up. I want to remember everything.

One day off per week is not enough, although at the same time, sitting around in the Guest House watching reruns of "Diagnosis, Murder" (Dick Van Dyke post-The Dick Van Dyke Show as a physician-wannabe-sleuth and an unknown bleached blond actor playing his son, the cop!) and first runs of "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style" is not that enriching. I have watched more TV here than I have ever watched at home. If I could master Hindi in a short time, I would swiftly become addicted to Bollywood serials because that is what plays on 80% of the channels on Kabul TV. These soap operas are marvelous, offering outrageous costumes, dance numbers, and outlandish makeup. I can almost follow the plot without a mastery of Hindi because the gestures are so extreme.

Since my last posting on January 8, I have had 2 weeks of Dari lessons and am now able to offer greetings to our Afghan drivers and bodyguards (who all know English, but I still want to try to converse with them in their language) and to shopkeepers. I realize that for the first week of my lessons, I was answering the “Salam aleikum”/ “How are you?” greeting coming my way with a hearty, “You are well, thank you, and so is your house.” Never mind! My learning curve is accelerating. To the warmly offered “Salam aleikum,” I now offer, “Waleikum salam, chEtor astEn?” And I receive a smile in return!

The images dancing in my head are disorderly and colorful. I have become a camera with a 360 degree lens trying to take it all in as I am always on the move in a vehicle, seldom on foot. Day to day, life between the Guest House and the office is fairly routine – if you consider coming home to Coq au Vin, Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding, and Tiramisu routine. Ali, our young Afghan cook, is a whiz in the kitchen. He cooks to the tastes of the American and Australian ex—pats who live in these quarters. We are provided lunch at the office every day, and that is an Afghan meal, most often a stewed meat, red beans, and the most amazing rice I’ve ever tasted, one day flavored with cardamom and cinnamon, the next day steamed with delicate strips of what I think is mango. Meals are always served with the local bread, Nan, which is a flat bread beyond description. I will miss my daily Nan when I leave Kabul.

Beyond daily life -- and, really, nothing is routine in Kabul – two days stand out. The first is January 17 when my colleagues and I were gathered at the 9 AM weekly staff meeting in the conference room at our office. Someone was giving a weekly report on his or her project when we heard an explosion. The noise caught everyone by surprise, even though the person speaking did not skip a beat, did not pause for a second. But the room fell silent and all eyes turned to the outside. There was no visible sign of an explosion – no smoke, no fire – but I could see that others were concerned, as was I. It was not long at all before we learned that a 22-year old suicide bomber had driven his car into a fuel tanker near Camp Eggars, the military base that houses the International Security Assistance Forces in Kabul. Casualty estimates varied, but it was reported that at least 6 Afghans and Americans were killed.

This was unbearably sad to me. All day, I thought of the families of those killed receiving the awful news. I tried to imagine living under this kind of daily threat. My Afghan colleagues seem inured to such tragedies. Since January 17, there have been other explosions and such threats loom daily. Afghans take this in stride. I do not worry and I do not feel unsafe. But my heart aches for all who have become accustomed to such violence.

The second day that stands out is Inauguration Day, a day that will forever in my heart and mind entwine Afghanistan and the United States. Inauguration Day was for me, and for my Afghan colleague Mustafa, the day that ‘democracy went to the top’ as he so eloquently put it. Afghans have high hopes that President Obama will turn his sights toward the Hindu Kush and make good on his promise to help Afghanistan. So do I.