I just found out that one of my first entries here was published in the Texas Mortgage Press, an industry magazine of the Texas Association of Mortgage Brokers (TAMB). I don’t think too much about mortgages and real estate anymore, except when I talk to my wife Julie who is a loan officer with PrimeLending. But news of my article made me think today about how much my circumstances have changed over the last three months.
Last week I borrowed a video camera from our Supply Records Manager, Troy Huntley. Troy is a retired Marine Corps staff non-commissioned officer. He’s been with MPRI here in Afghanistan for almost one year. He and his wife live in Jacksonville, Florida. Some have suggested that Troy resembles Disney's Ranger Woodlore, but you didn't hear that from me. I used his camera to tape the drive to/from work so I could send it home to give my family a little flavor of what it’s like here. When I told Julie what I did, she started laughing. Then I realized how funny that must have sounded, “Honey, I videotaped my drive home from work for you!”
Like many readers of my now published journal, my wife’s drive home everyday is much like mine was when I worked for Ed Fussell at Mercantile Mortgage so long ago. From prestigious north Dallas down Preston Lane to LBJ, then west for about a mile or so and turn left at the Galleria. About another two miles and into the driveway of our four-bedroom, three-bath home within walking distance of a park, schools, and shopping. The most stressful part of the drive was when something happened to cause a delay—maybe a Dallas Police officer had pulled over a banker in a BMW for going 10 miles per hour over the posted speed limit, causing on-lookers to slow down. The scariest part of the drive was either passing a landscape truck with persons of questionable citizenship inside, or being passed by a student from one of the many local private schools driving too fast in his mother’s Jaguar.
I was thinking about that on my way to work this morning. As usual we checked with BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) on road conditions before leaving. Portions of Jalalabad Road (a road we often take) were Black, meaning no unnecessary travel. Part of the reason was from intelligence sources that I am not privy to, but apparently the military suspected a threat. Part of it might have had to do with the suicide bomber that killed four civilians yesterday in a Kabul market. I also heard an unconfirmed report that Baghram Air Base took some incoming fire last night. What all that means is that we had to take an alternate route to work. (Imagine you’re listening to the morning news on your way to work. Traffic is backed up on the North Dallas Parkway because of an accident, so you decide to take Central Expressway instead. Same thing.)
I can’t describe the exact route we took, for security reasons, but I got the best view of Bala Hissar I’ve seen yet. Bala Hissar is an ancient fortress that was built in the 5th century. Of course I didn’t bring my camera today. We also passed some early Afghan houses. They weren’t occupied, and I assume they were still standing for historic reasons. In previous posts I described some contemporary Afghan houses as “mud huts”. I was trying to use literary license to color my description, but what I was really talking about was block-shaped buildings constructed from sun-baked bricks that were produced locally. The houses I saw today were really mud huts—they looked like dirt igloos.
Although the scenery was a little different from usual, I didn’t get the opportunity to gawk much; my attention was elsewhere. Just a few months ago I drove to work scanning the road ahead for speed traps. Today I watched everyone everywhere. Any man with a beard could be Taliban. Any woman in a burqa could be a disguised Talib. Anyone anywhere could be a suicide bomber. Any roadside debris could be an IED (Improvised Explosive Device). Just a few months ago I took notice when I saw an occasional police cruiser pass me from the opposite direction. Maybe, if I was really observant, I might see an armed forces recruiter in a nondescript government sedan. Today I saw three armored convoys; Swedish, Italian, and Turkish. Just a few months ago getting to work was uneventful and I was immediately thinking about going home. Today I was thankful to safely arrive at the depot with American military, Afghan forces, and private security around me, and already wondering if road conditions would worsen and delay my ability to leave for the trip back to my quarters.
A lot has changed for me in the last three months. Only nine months left on my contract. I’m already thinking about extending…
