See what you think. One of them, is of course, mine.
Jul 16, 2010
Food for thought
Because I am a bit odd this way and I like to spend time in the kitchen (probably more than most) I often find myself staring at the contents of my housemates' food cupbords, trying to see what, if anything, it tells me about them. Of course it would be easier just to have a conversation, but like I say, I'm odd like that.
See what you think. One of them, is of course, mine.
See what you think. One of them, is of course, mine.
Jul 13, 2010
The four men were dressed in Afghan police uniforms, innocuous enough until one blew himself up at the gate of the hotel. Another threw a grenade into the outside screening room, and a third ran into the car park where a guard shot him, causing his explosive vest to detonate.
The fourth went on a shooting rampage, pushing through the 15-foot carved wooden doors and into the marbled lobby of the capital's only five-star hotel, the Serena, where that night, as most, a bevvy of journalists, aid workers and diplomats were eating drinking and working out.
The gunman made for the gym, down the stairs lit by tea candles and scented with rose petals and into the spa, where he shot the Filipina receptionist. Another five people were killed that night, including a Norwegian journalist.
That happened in January 2008, but you can't help but relive the story each time you visit the Serena, still the capital's most luxurious hotel.
I thought about it last Friday as I slipped my bag onto the conveyor belt and watched it go through the xray machine and as I submitted to a pat down in a curtained room by a female guard; I thought about it when a heavily-armed guard opened the inner security door leading to the car park; and as I pushed through the carved wooden doors and into the cavernous, cool luxury of the hotel lobby. But mostly I thought about it as I walked along the marbled hallway and down the stairs lit with tea candles and scented with rose petals and as I handed over my US$32 to the Filipina receptionist so that I could have a swim in the hotel pool.
There are many surreal experiences in Kabul. A trip to the Serena is one of them. When you push through those grand wooden doors, it's like finding the back of the wardrobe and stepping into Narnia. The first time I went, I sat in the garden with a friend, people watching. A Japanese man, about 70, walked up and down the path, his face covered with a surgical mask. Who is he, I thought? What could he possibly be doing in Kabul?
Last Friday, a friend and I made a date for swimming. She picked me up in her SUV. I was so excited at the thought of going for a swim, that even her personal guard, an AK-47 on his lap, couldn't knock my mood.
After we paid our fee, we entered the spa area/changing room. Beautiful oak lockers, rain forest showers and an area with sunbeds, just to laze and read a magazine. We got changed quickly and headed out to the pool. It was 9:30am, but already half of the two dozen sunbeds had been taken; mostly by thin pale European women in bikinis. Three people were doing laps in the pool and Ann, my American friend and I, dumped our stuff on two sun beds on the grass and joined them.
The water was cool, but not chilly, the sky above was a turquoise blue and bougainvillea was growing on trellises that hid the 20 foot blast walls. And although it's a terrible cliche, as I scythed up and down the lengths of the pool, in between two tattooed Americans, I almost forgot where I was; so much so that when I plumped back down on my sun bed, I slapped on some suncream, pulled out Hillary Mantel's Wolf Hall and put my Jackie O sunglasses on.
The facade lasted until the first helicopter buzzed low in the sky.
I was in Kabul, land of dirt, poverty and insurgency, not at a beach resort. I should be covered up, reading Steve Coll's Ghost Wars or Butcher and Bolt, about the history of foreign intervention in Afghanistan.
The sunglasses had to go ... and even Wolf's magical book about Henry Tudor and Thomas Cromwell, after a few pages, found its way back in my bag as Ann and I chatted about the challenges of living and working in Afghanistan (yes, I do see the irony of talking about how hard life is while lazing by a pool).
I could have laid there all day, but Ann had told her guards to pick us up at 12:30 and we still had to go for coffee and croissant in the hotel cafe.
As I was getting changed, it finally sunk in that what I was looking at in two corners of the changing room were Kevlar bullet proof vests. I wondered which of the pale European women in bikinis they belonged to.
The fourth went on a shooting rampage, pushing through the 15-foot carved wooden doors and into the marbled lobby of the capital's only five-star hotel, the Serena, where that night, as most, a bevvy of journalists, aid workers and diplomats were eating drinking and working out.
The gunman made for the gym, down the stairs lit by tea candles and scented with rose petals and into the spa, where he shot the Filipina receptionist. Another five people were killed that night, including a Norwegian journalist.
That happened in January 2008, but you can't help but relive the story each time you visit the Serena, still the capital's most luxurious hotel.
I thought about it last Friday as I slipped my bag onto the conveyor belt and watched it go through the xray machine and as I submitted to a pat down in a curtained room by a female guard; I thought about it when a heavily-armed guard opened the inner security door leading to the car park; and as I pushed through the carved wooden doors and into the cavernous, cool luxury of the hotel lobby. But mostly I thought about it as I walked along the marbled hallway and down the stairs lit with tea candles and scented with rose petals and as I handed over my US$32 to the Filipina receptionist so that I could have a swim in the hotel pool.
There are many surreal experiences in Kabul. A trip to the Serena is one of them. When you push through those grand wooden doors, it's like finding the back of the wardrobe and stepping into Narnia. The first time I went, I sat in the garden with a friend, people watching. A Japanese man, about 70, walked up and down the path, his face covered with a surgical mask. Who is he, I thought? What could he possibly be doing in Kabul?
Last Friday, a friend and I made a date for swimming. She picked me up in her SUV. I was so excited at the thought of going for a swim, that even her personal guard, an AK-47 on his lap, couldn't knock my mood.
After we paid our fee, we entered the spa area/changing room. Beautiful oak lockers, rain forest showers and an area with sunbeds, just to laze and read a magazine. We got changed quickly and headed out to the pool. It was 9:30am, but already half of the two dozen sunbeds had been taken; mostly by thin pale European women in bikinis. Three people were doing laps in the pool and Ann, my American friend and I, dumped our stuff on two sun beds on the grass and joined them.
The water was cool, but not chilly, the sky above was a turquoise blue and bougainvillea was growing on trellises that hid the 20 foot blast walls. And although it's a terrible cliche, as I scythed up and down the lengths of the pool, in between two tattooed Americans, I almost forgot where I was; so much so that when I plumped back down on my sun bed, I slapped on some suncream, pulled out Hillary Mantel's Wolf Hall and put my Jackie O sunglasses on.
The facade lasted until the first helicopter buzzed low in the sky.
I was in Kabul, land of dirt, poverty and insurgency, not at a beach resort. I should be covered up, reading Steve Coll's Ghost Wars or Butcher and Bolt, about the history of foreign intervention in Afghanistan.
The sunglasses had to go ... and even Wolf's magical book about Henry Tudor and Thomas Cromwell, after a few pages, found its way back in my bag as Ann and I chatted about the challenges of living and working in Afghanistan (yes, I do see the irony of talking about how hard life is while lazing by a pool).
I could have laid there all day, but Ann had told her guards to pick us up at 12:30 and we still had to go for coffee and croissant in the hotel cafe.
As I was getting changed, it finally sunk in that what I was looking at in two corners of the changing room were Kevlar bullet proof vests. I wondered which of the pale European women in bikinis they belonged to.
Jul 7, 2010
Keeping it real
Today I asked my team what they thought I should include in my next set of training sessions, if there was anything specific they wanted me to focus on. One of them replied he would like to know how to better structure a story so that it was easily understood by everyone.
He sent me the below link as an example:
www.idristawfiq.com/index.php?news=43
He sent me the below link as an example:
www.idristawfiq.com/index.php?news=43
Jul 6, 2010
What expats are talking about in Kabul
random messages on an online bulletin board
-------------------------------------
A friend of mine is looking to export pomegranates to some connections he has in a few gulf region arab countries. Does anyone know if US Army flights that leave back to their respective bases in the middle east have any kind of program were some of the cargo planes which leave here empty could be loaded with some fruit? It would be a great way to support the agriculture industry and the efforts to boost Afghanistan exports. Just a thought, let me know if ya'll have any info!
------------------------------------
I have access to six hercules C-130, all of them airworthy, available almost immediately.
The best one only has 6000 hours, others are less attractive, but all are airworthy.
Interested, email and I'll refer
---------------------------------------------
We have a Yamaha console piano that is desperately crying out to be tuned. Is there a reputable, experienced, piano tuner scratching out their existence in Kabul?
-------------------------
Hi - my 15" Macbook Pro went down and I need to find some Mac OS X install disks to get it working again, I rather foolishly left them in New York. So if you'd like to be dear and help a poor working hack out, please drop me a line at matt.aikins[at]gmail.com. My computer is a late 2008 model, but I think the disks for any 15" intel processor MacBook Pro from 2008 on should work.
--------------------------------------------------------------
A friend of mine brought some useful equipments from Dabui for sell.
Helmats, goggles, boots, body armours and etc.
if you need more information or want one of these tools, kindly call at
--------------------------------------------------------
Cute little puppy needs a home! Puppy is a female, white, maybe 2 months old and very friendly.
Found her in front of my door and am unable to leave her on the street again. Since I have 3 dogs already, I cannot keep this one. Please help me find a home for her.
--------------------------
A course designed for people working in Afghanistan (or a hostile environment) who may not be allowed to carry a weapon due to their work, organization, company policy or position.
When all around you are dead or dying, what do you do? Pick up a weapon and try to defend yourself, or just die?
We know from experience in Kabul that insurgent-led “complex” style attacks have increased and leave individuals with difficult decisions to make in a life or death situation in the heat of a moment.
Have you ever fired a gun before?
This new Kabul-based course covers the basic everyday weapons found in Afghanistan and used by security personnel.
Each person on the course will handle the weapons on a dry run (no actual firing) to familiarize themselves with the "feel" of each weapon.
Optional actual shooting can be organized at a later date.
---------------------------
A chevy Camero Convertible 1968 for sale. for more details contact us.
-------------------------------------------------
Hi everyone, we are going to come to Kabul for a six months period and my wife is wondering if there is a chance to have a haircut, manicure, refill for gel nails in Kabul. Can anyone answer this questions? Thanks
------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
A friend of mine is looking to export pomegranates to some connections he has in a few gulf region arab countries. Does anyone know if US Army flights that leave back to their respective bases in the middle east have any kind of program were some of the cargo planes which leave here empty could be loaded with some fruit? It would be a great way to support the agriculture industry and the efforts to boost Afghanistan exports. Just a thought, let me know if ya'll have any info!
------------------------------------
I have access to six hercules C-130, all of them airworthy, available almost immediately.
The best one only has 6000 hours, others are less attractive, but all are airworthy.
Interested, email and I'll refer
---------------------------------------------
We have a Yamaha console piano that is desperately crying out to be tuned. Is there a reputable, experienced, piano tuner scratching out their existence in Kabul?
-------------------------
Hi - my 15" Macbook Pro went down and I need to find some Mac OS X install disks to get it working again, I rather foolishly left them in New York. So if you'd like to be dear and help a poor working hack out, please drop me a line at matt.aikins[at]gmail.com. My computer is a late 2008 model, but I think the disks for any 15" intel processor MacBook Pro from 2008 on should work.
--------------------------------------------------------------
A friend of mine brought some useful equipments from Dabui for sell.
Helmats, goggles, boots, body armours and etc.
if you need more information or want one of these tools, kindly call at
--------------------------------------------------------
Cute little puppy needs a home! Puppy is a female, white, maybe 2 months old and very friendly.
Found her in front of my door and am unable to leave her on the street again. Since I have 3 dogs already, I cannot keep this one. Please help me find a home for her.
--------------------------
A course designed for people working in Afghanistan (or a hostile environment) who may not be allowed to carry a weapon due to their work, organization, company policy or position.
When all around you are dead or dying, what do you do? Pick up a weapon and try to defend yourself, or just die?
We know from experience in Kabul that insurgent-led “complex” style attacks have increased and leave individuals with difficult decisions to make in a life or death situation in the heat of a moment.
Have you ever fired a gun before?
This new Kabul-based course covers the basic everyday weapons found in Afghanistan and used by security personnel.
Each person on the course will handle the weapons on a dry run (no actual firing) to familiarize themselves with the "feel" of each weapon.
Optional actual shooting can be organized at a later date.
---------------------------
A chevy Camero Convertible 1968 for sale. for more details contact us.
-------------------------------------------------
Hi everyone, we are going to come to Kabul for a six months period and my wife is wondering if there is a chance to have a haircut, manicure, refill for gel nails in Kabul. Can anyone answer this questions? Thanks
------------------------------------------------
Jul 5, 2010
Lost in translation
Maftoon is our logistics guy – actually he's the logistics assistant in charge of organising the drivers – there are about six of them. He's probably the tallest Afghan I know, super friendly and for some reason I always seem to interrupt him when he's eating, with my usually pathetic foreigner concerns. In the morning, as he's eating his breakfast of fried eggs (still in the frying pan), I burst into his office complaining that Fazil, my driver, approaches check points way too fast. I try to explain that we could be shot at; he sagely nods his head, smiling.
In the afternoon, just as he is about to dig into Kabuli rice, with its great big gristly bits of meat, I wave my printed schedule of pick up times at him. Fazil routinely comes to pick me up at 8:30 on a Saturday, despite not started work at 10:30 for the past three months. Hopefully, I say, this will make sense. Maftoon takes my sheet of paper and stares at it for a while. Then invites me to eat some rice with him.
I call him in the mornings, before he's even at work, to make sure the reliably unreliable Fazil will be picking me up (thus the printed list of pick up times); in the evening, after he's gone home, to find out where the hell Fazil is. Fazil, although sweet, speaks no English, although yesterday I did find out that he knows the word "Finest", the western supermarket near my home.
Each time I call, or burst into his office, Maftoon stands, smiles, extends his hand and before we even address my issues, go through the several greetings that are part of Afghan culture.
"Hello Cassie, how are you?" (Stands up, extends hand, shakes hand several times.)
"I'm fine Maftoon, thank you, how are you?" (hands still pumping away)
"I am fine, Cassie, Thank you .. are you well?"
"Yes, Maftoon very well, about Fazil ..." (detaching hand from his to indicate serious business now)
"Oh yes, I will help you .., how is your family Cassie? How was your evening, did you rest? Please join me for some breakfast."
Argh!!!!
Maftoon's English is also not so good. The other day when I arrived back from the UAE, I called him while standing in the immigration queue to make sure that there was a pick up for me.
"Hello Cassie, how are you?"
"Hi Maftoon, I'm fine thank you, how are you?"
"Thank you Cassie, yes, I am well. Are you ok?"
"Maftoon, I am at the airport, is there someone to pick me up?"
"Did you have a good trip Cassie?"
"Yes, it was a good trip, thank you."
"Oh good, good. Are you at the office now?"
"No, Maftoon, I have just arrived. I am at Kabul international airport. Is there a driver?"
"Cassie, I am in Jalalabad, (a town in the east). But I will call the driver to see if he is there."
Thank you/ You're welcome/bye/bye.
Two minutes later, Maftoon calls.
"Cassie, Fazil is waiting for you."
"He is at the airport?"
"Yes, yes, I am in Jalalabad. How was your trip?"
"Maftoon, is Fazil at the airport?"
"Yes, he is there, he has been waiting for you."
"Great, thank you. How is Jalalabad?"
"No Cassie, Fazil is waiting for you at carpark B."
In the afternoon, just as he is about to dig into Kabuli rice, with its great big gristly bits of meat, I wave my printed schedule of pick up times at him. Fazil routinely comes to pick me up at 8:30 on a Saturday, despite not started work at 10:30 for the past three months. Hopefully, I say, this will make sense. Maftoon takes my sheet of paper and stares at it for a while. Then invites me to eat some rice with him.
I call him in the mornings, before he's even at work, to make sure the reliably unreliable Fazil will be picking me up (thus the printed list of pick up times); in the evening, after he's gone home, to find out where the hell Fazil is. Fazil, although sweet, speaks no English, although yesterday I did find out that he knows the word "Finest", the western supermarket near my home.
Each time I call, or burst into his office, Maftoon stands, smiles, extends his hand and before we even address my issues, go through the several greetings that are part of Afghan culture.
"Hello Cassie, how are you?" (Stands up, extends hand, shakes hand several times.)
"I'm fine Maftoon, thank you, how are you?" (hands still pumping away)
"I am fine, Cassie, Thank you .. are you well?"
"Yes, Maftoon very well, about Fazil ..." (detaching hand from his to indicate serious business now)
"Oh yes, I will help you .., how is your family Cassie? How was your evening, did you rest? Please join me for some breakfast."
Argh!!!!
Maftoon's English is also not so good. The other day when I arrived back from the UAE, I called him while standing in the immigration queue to make sure that there was a pick up for me.
"Hello Cassie, how are you?"
"Hi Maftoon, I'm fine thank you, how are you?"
"Thank you Cassie, yes, I am well. Are you ok?"
"Maftoon, I am at the airport, is there someone to pick me up?"
"Did you have a good trip Cassie?"
"Yes, it was a good trip, thank you."
"Oh good, good. Are you at the office now?"
"No, Maftoon, I have just arrived. I am at Kabul international airport. Is there a driver?"
"Cassie, I am in Jalalabad, (a town in the east). But I will call the driver to see if he is there."
Thank you/ You're welcome/bye/bye.
Two minutes later, Maftoon calls.
"Cassie, Fazil is waiting for you."
"He is at the airport?"
"Yes, yes, I am in Jalalabad. How was your trip?"
"Maftoon, is Fazil at the airport?"
"Yes, he is there, he has been waiting for you."
"Great, thank you. How is Jalalabad?"
"No Cassie, Fazil is waiting for you at carpark B."
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