It's Friday, day two of the Muslim weekend. Typically I go to Camp Phoenix with a group of guys. I usually hit the gym and maybe play some racquetball, then head over to the PX for some shopping and a smoothie. Then we hang out at the picnic tables outside the PX and tell lies and smoke cigars for an hour or two before heading back to the safe houses. A couple of guys take golf clubs because there's an open area where they can practice their drives.

This morning, as we were congregating in the safe house yard to get in the vans to go to Phoenix, we heard a loud explosion. It sounded like it came from the general vicinity of the airport. I went up onto the roof of the White House to see if I could spot anything. Nothing. Meanwhile, Wayne called BDOC to check on the road conditions. BDOC didn't know yet and said to call back later. A while later we called again and the road to Phoenix was Amber (movement OK). The road to the airport was Black (no movement allowed). I later heard that a suicide bomber exploded at the entrance to the airport--the same entrance I went through with Minister Jawhari's convoy just a few days ago. Two Afghan police officers were killed.

I didn't have a smoothie today, I had a white mocha frappe instead. It was delicious.

Out.

VBIED: 31 Aug, Kabul Province, Kabul District, Kabul City, District 10, Kabul International Airport – At 07:33 a VBIED targeted a two vehicle ISAF patrol near the entrance to Camp Kaia (Kabul Airport). The bomber reportedly detonated the device prematurely. There were ANA soldiers and civilian bystanders in the area at the time of the detonation. Two ANA soldiers were reportedly killed and approximately eight civilian bystanders were injured.

Today, my soon-to-be predecessor Vic Solero and I went to GS/G4 to discuss some budget issues with Gen Shah Aga but he wasn’t in. Only about half the officers we usually see there were in today. It’s Thursday, the start of the Muslim weekend, so many of them managed to be somewhere else for the half day…

So Vic took me to see the sewing factory. The ANA has many of their uniforms, flags, accouterments, etc., manufactured at their own sewing factory. Not usually a military function, western armies like the US contract out the manufacture of those items. However, this factory is self-sufficient; the items they make and sell pays for the factory’s cost. Of greater importance, however, is the labor force. Almost all of the workers are women, and almost all of them are military widows. The factory also has a nursery, which is extremely forward-thinking for this country. So those of you who may read this (Mom, Julie, Kim), the nursery needs clothes, school materials, toys, etc., for ages 3 months to 5 years…

I took as many pictures as I could, but that stupid old camera just wouldn’t cooperate. There are some in the photobucket, after the LogCmd pics. I broke down and bought a new camera today. Not very expensive, but it has 8 megapixels and optical zoom. Damn thing didn’t come with a memory card though so it looks like I have to hit the bazaar tomorrow.

By the way Mom, one of the pictures that didn’t turn out was some little old Afghan ladies embroidering flags. They were using antique sewing machines that would probably cost a small fortune in the US, they were so old.

Out.

Yesterday was the ribbon cutting for the new Mechanics School at the Afghan National army (ANA) Logistics Command (LogCmd), Central Movement Agency. I first went to the office of the Deputy Minister of Defense, Acquisition, Technology, and Logistics, Minister Jawhari. General Shah Aga was there with some members of his staff. After meeting Minister Jawhari and some small talk, we left for LogCmd. Our vehicle was in the Minister’s convoy with security at the front & back. We took a route through the airport. After exiting the airport gate, I noticed several soldiers standing guard along the highway—more security for our convoy. We entered LogCmd and The Minister and staff were immediately whisked into a maintenance bay set up for an opening ceremony.

The event was started by a Muslim prayer by a Mullah, then several people spoke, including the Minister. We were, as usual, served chai (a weak green tea), dried corn, almonds, and raisins. After the opening ceremony, we were escorted around to see the various classrooms, maintenance areas, etc. Then we went into the Officer’s dining facility.

I wasn’t expecting lunch, but it was a pleasant surprise. The meal was served family-style, with heaping platters of food. Each place setting had a soda (mine was an orange soda from Pakistan), a bottle of water, and some soupy, strong yogurt in a bowl. First we were served soup. It had some leafy vegetables in it along with some other ingredients I didn’t recognize, and strong pepper seasoning. I was unsure of the etiquette in a dinner of Afghans (all male) but I quickly learned that there was no etiquette. Everybody reached for whatever they wanted. There was an Afghan staple of fried rice with raisins and naan which is a round flatbread, beef kabobs, spicy goat meat, fruit, and melon. Surprisingly, I didn’t get sick afterwards.

On the way out of the dining facility, I saw a senior Enlisted ANA soldier who was in my last supply class at Central Supply Depot. I said “Chotorasti?” (How are you?) to him and shook his hand. He beamed. I figured out later that I must have made his day. Here was an important American military advisor, traveling with the Deputy Minister of Defense, who acknowledged him. Cool.

I added some pictures to photobucket, but my camera is dying and half of them didn’t come out. Stupid camera.

Out.

Spent my second full day at my new job today. I still work for MPRI, Logistics Directorate, Combined Security Transition Command-Afghanistan (CSTC-A), but instead of being the Logistics Training Director for Central Supply Depot, I an the senior mentor to General Shah Aga, Director of Logistics and Materiel Readiness for the Afghan National Army. Yesterday I met Gen Shah Aga in his office at G-4. Today I attended a meeting at the Ministry of Defense with the general and his staff. Gen Shah Aga is a likable, heavy-set, forward-thinking old warrior who fled to Pakistan with his family during the Taliban rule and returned to help his country grow and prosper.

Most of the high ranking Afghan officers have mentors/trainers, many of whom are MPRI personnel. The coalition (and specifically the US) is pouring millions of dollars of support, equipment, weapons, etc., into this country and we're trying to help the government learn to control and allocate their army like the US. The only system they know is the old Soviet system which never was very good anyway.

On another note, my previous boss, Dana Call, just got back from vacation. He lives in South Dakota and happened to be home at the same time my dad rode to Sturgis, SD, for the annual Harley rally. Dad stayed at Dana's house for a few days. When Dana returned, he brought a digital camera for his driver, Sheron. Yesterday Sheron brought his camera to me and asked me to download the pics he took over the weekend. I posted them here. I thought it was interesting what a true Afghan took pics of on his day off.

Out.

Went to Bagram today. It is about a 1.5 hour drive from Kabul, through some desolate areas with numerous scattered villages and police checkpoints. I saw the usual assortment of nomads, goats, donkeys, camels, and insane drivers. The road itself is pockmarked with potholes and, oddly enough, broken down vehicles seldom move off to the shoulder.

Nothing much too exciting to report. I posted a few pics, but I think my little Sony 2.0 megapixels Cybershot camera has about had it. I'm thinking about investing in a real camera...

Out.

Did I mention the bombing on my first day back to work? I was sitting in my office discussing my vacation with Dana & Jim, between 0800 and 0900, when we heard a loud explosion and the conex rattled. Soon we started getting sitreps. Apparently there was a military convoy turning into Camp Phoenix about one mile away and a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device (VBIED), otherwise known as a car bomb, turned in with them and detonated. Four military personnel and four Afghan nationals were injured—no fatalities except the bomber. Yep, that never happened in Dallas…

Finally, some much appreciated time off. I spent 18 glorious days home in Dallas, Texas, USA.

I left Kabul on July 9. Sheron drove me to the airport, and being the seasoned Afghanistan traveler that I now am, I took only a carry-on and made it through the airport to the plane without paying any tips/bribes. In the waiting area, I met a Norwegian Air Force officer going home on emergency leave, and a DynCorp employee going on leave to China to see the Great Wall. Got to the airport in Dubai, had some time to kill so I took a taxi to the Emirates Mall, ate some Lebanese food, and watched Transformers. Flew into Heathrow Airport in London and have to catch the connecting flight at Gatwick Airport. London is lush and green this time of year. I didn’t see much interesting on the bus between airports—I could have been in Virginia, except everyone was driving on the wrong side of the road. At Gatwick, two young security officers took great pleasure in making a scene over a single male traveling without luggage from Afghanistan. As they were inspecting my carry-on, I had an almost overwhelming desire to yell “BOOM” but I was able to restrain myself. Julie picked me up at DFW and I was immediately struck by how green Dallas is (everything is brown in Afghanistan, and I mean everything). I was also initially a little nervous about all the vegetation and likely insurgent hiding places. But once I arrived home and enjoyed many cold beverages on my patio with my wife, I started to settle back in to the decadent infidel way of life.

Julie won a weekend out by being the top producer at PrimeLending, so the first Friday we checked into the W, an upscale hotel downtown. We had a very expensive and delicious dinner at the top-rated restaurant Nine. Back to the hotel and the trendy Ghost Bar upstairs, which features a glass-floored balcony where you can look down and see tiny little people walking down the streets on downtown Dallas. Click here for pics.

Saturday is kind of a blur. We went to Shane & Sam’s house for a birthday party. Lots of children, and lots of Shiner Boch. Adults and children all piled into their awesome pool and while the kids played, those of us without kids drank and swam and told stories until it was time to go to my parents’ house. Mom wanted to have a little welcome home party for me. Barbeque and more Shiner. My brother’s friend unwisely presented me with a gift of Patrón, which quickly escalated our insobriety. Shane showed up also and helped me appreciate the fine Tequila. Then Julie, Shane & I went to our friends Dave & Diane’s house. Don’t remember much after that. Slept in on Sunday and went to Mom’s for lunch. Danny made a traditional Czech meal called Kapusta which is a cabbage & potato stew. Not exactly what you’d normally serve on a hot July day in Texas, but this was a special occasion. Shane came over to retrieve his car. Click here for pics.

On Wednesday, I went to my regular monthly Marine poker game. They rescheduled the game during my vacation time. It’s a group of former active duty Marines who have been playing poker on the first Wednesday of every month for years; I’ve been a regular member for about three years now. I won $23.

The next weekend we went to Galveston. Sort of a semi-annual event, the Luther family and ours rent a beach house one weekend in the summer and have a blast. Normally we drink too much; sing & dance; tell lies; and eat like starving dogs. This year was no exception. David did most of the cooking: steaks and garlic mashed potatoes, shrimp and Tilapia, huge cholesterol-laden breakfasts. We absorbed cases of beer and rum & cokes. We terrorized the neighbors with plastic-pellet toy guns. We caught & released dozens of hermit crabs. Daniel Boone’s “Beautiful Sunday” was the unofficial theme song. Mike, DJ, Jeni, and Katie made an eerily realistic sand-woman with piercing lifelike eyes. Julie & I stumbled across it at night and it scared the bejeezus out of us. Julie and I stayed one day longer after the Luthers & the kids all left, and we explored Galveston and had some delicious seafood in the local restaurants. Click here for pics.

We had a new fence built while I was home, a stained cedar 8’ board-on-board privacy fence with bottom board and cap. Northlake Fence & Deck bent over backwards to ensure it was finished before I left again for Afghanistan.

The last night home, Julie had a little party for me. The Luthers, Mike and his friends, and Shane came to the house and sampled many fine adult beverages and grilled burgers. The next day, as usual, Shane came over to get his car.

Overall, Julie & I had a great vacation. I got to spend time with my wife, family & friends; rode my Harley and drove my Mustang; played with the dogs & cats; purchased two new rifles; ate Mexican food and McDonald’s. I also enjoyed a few other things that most Americans take for granted: I went outside without body armor; I drank water from the tap; I drove down the street without looking for suspected bombers, and with my windows down; I didn’t see one single AK-47 assault rifle; my car wasn’t searched once; I went to the grocery store; I watched TV in English; I slept through the night without being awakened by low-flying helicopters or the early-morning Azan (Mullah’s call-to-prayer five times daily); I kissed my wife in public and held her hand.

God bless America.

Out.

Going home on leave in a couple weeks, don't want to forget what little Dari I've learned, so here are my notes:

Dokhtar – girl

Zan – woman

Bacha – boy

Karachi – cart

Khar – donkey

Sag – dog

Gurg – wolf

Peshak – cat

Asp – horse

Gow – cow

Shadi – monkey

Gosfand – sheep

Buz – goat

Boro – go

Baba – grandfather

Stad – stop

Tayara – airplane

Man dostat daram – I love you

Man ham dostat daram – I love you too

Tashakor – thank you

Chotorasti – How are you?

Khobastam – I am fine.

Khobasti – You are fine?

Sobbakhair – Good morning

Chastbakhair – Good afternoon

Shabbakhair – Good night

Shambakhair – Good evening

Ba omid dee dar – See you tomorrow

Khaira – no problem

Salam – Hello (informal)

Salamalaikom – Hello (formal)

Allah akbair – God is great

Inshallah – God willing

Bali – Yes

Ne – no

Ah, another fun-filled day in Afghanistan.

Jim Foster recently joined us, taking over Dorothy's position as Material Accounting Manager. Dorothy was moved to the Ministry of Interior (MOI) to manage five employees in Kandahar. Kind of a demotion, but that's another story...

Jim Foster is a likable old guy, former Air Force, sort of a dottering grandfather type, and looks a little like Droopy Dog.

Part of his in-processing and acclimation to working with the Material Control Team (MCT) at D-1 is to visit the vehicle area at D-2 in Pol-E-Charki. Dana wanted to take him out there and meet with the manager, Mark Orthman. Troy and I went along for the ride.

D-2 is further down Jalalabad Road, towards Pakistan. Incoming vehicles are staged there for issue to the ANA. Mostly US-made military vehicles, there are also a variety of vehicles from other countries, including some old Russian trucks left over from the Soviet occupation.

After Jim's tour of D-2, on the way back to D-1, we decide to stop at the ISAF base for lunch. After getting some Euros from the ATM machine, we went to an Italian restaurant. Dana & Jim had steaks (I saved the bones for the yard dogs at D-1) and Troy & I had pizzas. Dana also bought pizzas and sodas for our two Afghan drivers.

After that delicious treat, we headed back to D-1. The MPRI warehouse manager, Ramon Padilla (loud, opinionated Puerto Rican) was supposed to meet with LT Hogan (US Navy) about the weapons inventory and Dana wanted to be there to referee. However, just before we turned off Jalalabad Road to D-1, we got a call from BDOC that there was a suspected suicide bomber in the area. So instead of turning we went straight to our safe houses.

So now it's a little after 1:00 PM, I have a full belly (pizza and two cokes), I'm in my room in my shorts and t-shirt and the bed is calling my name.

Out.

Just got back from a short vacation in Dubai. MPRI encourages us to take leave and get out of Afghanistan every ninety days or so, and I intend to take advantage every time.

Tuesday, 4/17/2007

Worked until about noon, then Dana drove me to the Afghanistan airport in Kabul. Had to go through a security checkpoint before entering the airport where they frisked us & the driver, and inspected my luggage. Then, amazingly enough, we were passed through to Lot 1. There are three parking lots at the airport, numbered from closest to farthest, 1 to 3. Normally ordinary folks are only allowed into Lot 3, where they have to drop off or wait for passengers. Lot 3 is unpaved, unmarked, and surrounded by barriers and concertina wire. I carried my luggage into the airport and had to pay about $20 in tips (bribes) to get through ticketing and into the waiting area.

Funny thing about Ariana Afghan Airlines, we were seated by nationality and sex. Whenever possible, they try to seat the foreigners together and the women together.

I saw someone on the flight that I thought I recognized, but couldn’t quite place. Then I noticed he was with two guys carrying TV cameras with CNN tags. He was a reporter who’s name still escapes me, but I’ll figure it out and edit this later.

Noticed some scraping and wobbling noises during take-off that made me think there was a suspension problem with the landing gear, but we landed safely at Dubai International Airport so that’s someone else’s problem now.

Got to the hotel, the Arabian Courtyard Hotel & Spa, and unloaded. Had a few beers with some Spaniards from Pamplona at the hotel bar, a man and his Mom. I asked if he ever ran with the bulls and he sheepishly said yes. Then Mom told me that she would never allow him to because it was too dangerous, but one day she was looking in the newspaper and there he was, running from the bulls. Bad boy.

Then I went to pickup Julie from the airport. Her flight was three hours late so I got to hang out with Arabs, Indians, Pakistanis, and a myriad of other nationalities I can only guess at. Finally she arrived and we went to the hotel. At this point, the daily journal ends due to mature content…

Wednesday, 04/18/2007

We treated ourselves to 80-minute massages in the hotel spa, and walked across the street to the Dubai Museum. The museum is an old fort in the heart of old Dubai. They had displays of how Dubai used to be, mostly poor Arabs living in houses made of palm branches. Fish and dates were staples of their diets. The primary industry was pearls, before oil was discovered in the sixties. The museum was informative and entertaining.

We also found this neat little art gallery. Mostly paintings, all of the art was, of course, of the middle east.

That night we went to the Western Steakhouse at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. We had a nice bottle (two bottles, actually) of Merlot, escargots sautéed with butter & garlic, I had a juicy t-bone steak and Julie had a rib-eye and lobster tail. It was delicious. Then we hit the hotel bar and closed it down.

Thursday, 04/19/2007

Low-intensity day. Not only was Julie wiped out from the time change, but we were both nursing hangovers from last night’s activity. We mostly stayed in the room and enjoyed each other’s company. We did venture up to the hotel pool for a few adult beverages, but not any farther than that.

Friday, 04/20/2007

The plan was to go to the beach this day. We were up and getting dressed, I bent over to tie my shoe and got a terrible, stabbing pain in my back. I don’t have a history of back problems, but I must have twisted just the wrong way because it hurt like Hell. We had the Desert Safari and BBQ Dinner scheduled for that night, but moved it to Sunday and scheduled a dinner cruise instead. The hotel was very close to Dubai Creek, which is really a large inlet from the Arabian Gulf. We got on a boat called a Dhow, cruised up the creek, had a delicious dinner, and generally enjoyed the views of Dubai at night from the creek. It really is a beautiful and interesting city. At dinner, we were introduced to Omm’Ali, which is a traditional Egyptian Bread and Butter Pudding.

Saturday, 04/21/2007

Had the Dubai City Tour planned for this day. Luckily for us, because of the tour company’s timing/bookings, we got out our own van and tour guide. A lovely woman from Sri Lanka was our tour guide and a surly dark-skinned man from Eritrea was our driver. We saw most of the city while she pointed out sites like palaces and other attractions, including the Sheik’s palace. While we weren’t allowed to go into the Sheik’s palace grounds, the entrance is a tourist attraction. Beautiful landscaping and lots of peacocks. Part of the tour was stopping at a spice market and the gold souk. “Souk” means market. Gold is relatively inexpensive in UAE and sold by the weight. I dropped some serious cash on a ring for Julie.

Finally made it to the beach. We wanted to go to the Burj Al Arab Hotel, which is a landmark multi-million dollar hotel built on a man-made island in the Gulf, and shaped like a giant sail. Rooms there go for $2,000 to $7,000 per night. But non-guests need a reservation at the restaurant and specific attire to get in. So we settled for Jumeriah public beach instead. Nothing particularly noteworthy there, but I took a nap and got sunburned while Julie walked the beach. On the way back to the hotel we stopped at Harley-Davidson of UAE and got some t-shirts.

After the beach, we decided to see a movie. Now keep in mind that I am a pseudo-movie buff and for the last three months all I’ve seen is either grainy old re-runs on Afghan TV, or poorly focused pirated movie DVDs from the bazaar. So dammit I’m going to the movies. We went to the Emirates Mall which has an indoor ski slope, had a drink in a swank new age bar, did some window shopping and people watching, and saw 300. Not too complicated of a plot, but the visual effects were stunning.

Sunday, 04/22/2007

Today is the day we rescheduled the Desert Safari and BBQ Dinner. But it didn't start until later in the day so we had some time to walk around and do more sight-seeing. Then back to the hotel and I scheduled another massage for my aching back while Julie went to the pool. At least that's what I thought...but first she walked over to that art museum we found earlier and bought a very cool painting for me. It was a scene with a mosque that we could see from our hotel room window, only it was from the opposite viewpoint--from the creek.

Later our driver picked us up for the Desert Safari. It started out with “sand bashing” which was four-wheeling on the dunes. I really didn’t expect too much, but it was a blast! We were picked up in a Toyota Land Cruiser with a roll bar. We stopped to get another couple & their beautiful 5-year old daughter. They were from Italy and only Dad spoke English so he did all the translating. We drove out to the dunes and learned that our driver was the senior driver for the company and trained the other drivers. He took us up & over progressively bigger dunes and performed maneuvers that were breathtaking. At times I just knew he was going to kill us all but he made it look simple.

Then we stopped on a high dune next to some rock outcroppings and watched the sunset. The rocks were purple, and light. I’m guessing it was a sort of lava from an ancient volcano or something.

After the sunset, we drove to a site set up like an ancient Arab settling. There were some camels to ride, and Julie (International Woman of Mystery), rode hers like a pro. Then we went inside. There were different stations set up: first we had some fried dates, then found the bar and ordered some drinks (I didn’t expect that!), and Julie got a Henna tattoo on her hand. We then had some appetizers. I don’t know what it was exactly, it was like a goat meat and Hummus burrito, but it was good. Then we were seated on rugs & pillows at low tables for the buffet dinner. Rice, vegetables, Hummus, bread, lamb, chicken, beef, and more Omm’Ali. Then belly dancers came out to perform. They encouraged spectator participation, and the little Italian girl was adorable. Julie (International Woman of Mystery) also wowed the crowd with her undulating.

Monday, 04/23/2007

Julie’s day of departure. We walked down to the creek for some sight-seeing. Happened across another museum, this one was an old Sheik’s house that was restored and most of the museum was a collection of photographs. Browsed around the textile district and went back to the room to pack. Surprisingly, everything Julie brought, plus the stuff we bought, all fit in her suitcases! Went to the airport and, sadly, departed until my next leave. I’m planning to go home in July.

As I left the airport, I asked the taxi driver to take me to the mall with the most movies. Turns out that was the Chinese mall, way across town. The mall was interesting, all in oriental motif with a Chinese junk (boat) in the lobby. I saw The Reaping, which was better then I expected, and then went back to the hotel. The plan was for me to leave the day after Julie so I could see her off at the airport before I left, but I couldn’t get a flight for the 24th, so…

Tuesday, 04/24/2007

Slept in, had breakfast in the hotel, and went to the museum to look for a book about Dubai that Julie wanted. Then I went to the Centre City Mall in Deira. Did some window shopping, ate at a Lebanese restaurant in the food court, bought a watch, and found where the locals buy their clothes. There were several stores tucked away in a corner on the third floor. These we high end stores, men’s & women’s attire in separate stores. In the men’s stores they had those white robes, different colored and patterned headdresses, sandals, and accessories. In the women’s stores they had the black robes, black headdresses, veils, and accessories. Then I went to see Shooter. Incredible plot, but great action.

Monday, 04/25/2007

Up at 3:30 AM to get to the airport and through customs for my 6:30 AM flight back to Afghanistan. This would be a good point to explain that Dubai has two terminals. Most westerners only ever see Terminal 1, which is indicative of a world-class international airport. However, local flights (Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, etc.) arrive/depart at Terminal 2. A little rougher, grungier, and smellier, Terminal 2 started to remind me where I was going back to. We departed on time and I sat next to an individual that smelled like feet.

Interesting arrival. I had a window seat on the port side, so I could see when they rolled the stairs up to the plane. Immediately, about twenty high ranking ANA officers lined up on either side, creating a greeting line. They were laughing and joking and had flowers and photographers. An Afghan in civilian clothes was escorted off the plane to hugs and handshakes. I asked my feet-smelling neighbor if he knew who that was, and he said something about a former commander ruining the country. I asked “Taliban?” and he said, “No, before Taliban.” I asked “Mujahideen?” and he answered yes. Now I’m not sure if his English was that bad or if he was sympathetic to the Taliban, but I thought Mujahideen were the good guys, or at least before many of them turned Taliban.

I also had a revelation. The vehicle that carried me back to Afghanistan wasn’t a Boeing 727; it was a time machine. The last four hours transported me from 2007 back centuries. I was back to the dirty, crowded airport where I had to pay a $5 bribe to a policeman and $3 to a self-appointed porter to get my luggage. I walked out of the terminal past bundles wrapped in burlap which many of the locals were using for luggage, past more security, through dozens of dirty, bearded men, across a dirt “parking lot” bordered by concertina wire. Everything was the color of dirt. Alex was there to meet me, and our driver, Jon, took my bag. We got to the van, donned our body armor, and drove through the dusty, clogged, unpaved streets to our safe house. At the house, I changed into my MPRI uniform and we went back up Jalalabad Road to Depot-1 in time for lunch. Did I really leave or was that a dream?

Pics are posted here.

Out.

Did I say something about “normal” and “routine” in yesterday’s entry? Did I actually use those words?

We had an earthquake today. This morning, at about 8:00 AM, the ground shook. Not just a quick rumble like when a bomb detonates. This was a long, drawn out, variable shake that lasted about 30 seconds. No report like an explosion has.

So not only is the Taliban trying to kill us from above ground, but now Mother Earth is trying to kill us from below ground. God I love it here.

Just re-read what I wrote. Interesting that I can describe the differences between an explosion and an earthquake. Yep, just another normal, routine day at the office.

Out.

It was a beautiful day in Pol-e-charki today. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. I was standing in the yard at D-1 this morning talking to my wife on the cell phone when an armored HMMWV pulled up and parked right next to where I was standing. There was a loaded .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the gun ring (sunroof), the belt of brass-jacketed ammo glinting in the sun. Just another average day in paradise.

But later I almost got arrested. Well not really arrested. We were driving home, as usual at break-neck speed, dodging huge potholes and barely missing bicycles, carts, donkeys, and jungle-trucks. Troy was in the front seat filming the road. In a previous entry I told you about filming the drive to send home. Ramon, another MPRI employee, asked Troy to film the ride for him so he could send a disk home too. Ramon is a very loud and very opinionated Puerto-Rican that would probably explode if he had to stop talking for more than 30 seconds. Ramon is always in a hurry. Always. Think of an overweight (sorry Ramon), middle-aged Speedy Gonzales.

Much like I did a couple days ago, Troy filmed most of the route between D-1 in Pol-e-charki and our safe house near Camp Eggers in Kabul, about a 30 minute ride. He, of course, didn’t narrate with the same entertaining and informative candor as I did, but it was sufficient. Along our route there are many places where photography is prohibited. Inside the gates of D-1, for example, the American Embassy, the Ministry of Defense, and other secure areas. Troy would always turn off the camera and put it down when passing through those areas. However, one of the last turns on our return trip passes directly by the entrance to one such place and Troy did not immediately put the camera down. He wasn’t filming the entrance to the complex and we pass by it almost everyday without incident, so it was an understandable mistake. Understandable to us. But the armed guards at this particular installation didn’t see it that way.

In the middle of the road, our vehicle was quickly surrounded by Afghan guards armed with AK-47 assault rifles yelling at us in Dari. To our driver’s credit, Sharon rose to the situation and with vigor explained to the guards who we are and what we were doing. I’m spelling Sharon’s name like the name of a girl in English only because I don’t know how to spell it. Sharon is a 40-something male with two wives and eight sons. His name sounds like Sharon only the emphasis is on the second syllable.

The yelling went on for a while as Troy nervously tried to show the guards exactly what he filmed. Soon an English-speaking Afghan approached and we were able to explain the situation to him. Troy handed over the disk but they still didn’t let us go. Then an American, I suppose, who I think was a Blackwater operative, took control of the situation. He said normally they’d confiscate the camera but for some reason he let us go and let Troy keep his camera. It was at about that time when my heartbeat began its descent back to normal and my sphincter began to relax.

Then back to routine. Changed and went to the gym. Did 60 minutes on the elliptical machine while watching a Cold Case re-run. I had dinner at The Goat, which is the larger of the two chow halls on Camp Eggers, and walked home to watch a pirated copy of Breach. I fell asleep half-way through.

Out.

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 5^th 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…

We are issuing these four door Ford Rangers to the ANA (Afghan National Army) and ANP (Afghan National Police). The one in this picture is Army, the Police ones are Forest Green. Looks like a handy and sturdy vehicle. I like the idea of four full doors on a Ranger. I wonder why these aren't sold in the US? Maybe because they're manufactured in Taiwan? Oh yeah, they're diesel too. Hmm...

I wonder what it would cost to ship a dog from Afghanistan to Texas...

As if things aren't bad enough, sometimes we get reports like these:

UXO explosion: 04 March, Herat Province, Zende Jan District – One person was killed when he stepped on an anti-personnel landmine. It is believed the device was deployed during the Soviet era.

UXO recovered: 04 March, Paktya Province, Gardez District, Gardez City – Five Soviet era anti-tank rockets were uncovered during construction work. The ordinance has been removed.

So not only does the local populace have to worry about getting caught in crossfire between Taliban & coalition forces, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time when a Muslim suicide bomber decides to make his debut, but they also occasionally get vaporized by old landmines left here as little reminders of Soviet occupation. Oh boy.

I couldn't resist. Dumbass terrorists.

Bombers Killed: Three men were killed when the bomb they were carrying detonated. The bomb detonated after their bicycle went over a bump in the road in the central Pakistani town of Chechawatni. Their target was either a cattle market or the funeral procession of a recently murdered policeman. Pakistani Security Forces are on high alert following a series of suicide bombings and arrests through out the country.

So these three jackasses were riding one bicycle (I've seen that here) with their little homemade bomb strapped to the handlebars, on their way to become "martyrs" for Allah, when their bicycle hit a bump and BOOM! Now that's funny. I wonder if they got their 72 virgins?

This is my second attempt to write this entry. I had a beautiful literary masterpiece written previously, but the system crashed and I lost it. Last week I was thinking that my blog was looking a little bare and it was time to write something, but I was out of ideas. Mr. Big Hands was at the gate on Wednesday but I didn’t have my camera. I’m saving him for when I can get some pics to augment that story.

Thursday started out as any other day. Breakfast at 0530, then off to D-1 for more POI development, translation, and review. Strawberry, our crippled yard dog (sort of a cross between Pivo and Cooper), met me at the office for her morning snack. I always liberate a sausage link from the DFAC in the mornings for her. She must not be Muslim because she likes the pork sausages as much as the turkey ones. People that have been here a while told me that she used to be healthy, and would run with a beautiful athletic stride. Then one day she started favoring a hind leg, having apparently been hit by a vehicle. She still runs on three legs, like many natives of this country, adapting to her unfortunate circumstances.

Thursday, of course, is the beginning of the Islamic weekend, so we took off at noon and headed home. We always travel in pairs at least, with four vehicles and drivers dedicated to our section. Heading back along our usual route, we were stopped at a military road block on Jalalabad Road.

OK, Mom and Julie, stop reading now.

Mom, Julie, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8MDNFaGfT4

There were about a dozen ANA soldiers with AK-47 assault rifles redirecting traffic down a side road off of Jalalabad Road. Our idiot driver at first attempted to go through the soldiers, at which they became extremely agitated. Dana and I quickly and unceremoniously corrected the driver and ordered him to follow the soldiers’ instructions. My heartfelt advice to anyone reading this: never argue with men carrying AK-47s.

We got out of that situation just fine, and were on an alternate route back to Camp Eggers, when we were stopped dead in traffic just before Massoud Circle. Massoud Circle is a traffic circle dedicated to a Kurd resistance leader killed by the Taliban. Massoud Circle is also the site of one of the worst IED attacks on a US military convoy. With Massoud Circle within sight, we were in a stand-still traffic jam, blocked in on three sides by other vehicles, and on the left side by the concrete barrier separating lanes of traffic. Normally, this type of activity would indicate that President Karzai was moving through the area. Traffic is typically stopped or rerouted to secure his convoy and escorts. But that day, President Karzai was in London meeting with Tony Blair.

We were starting to feel a little uneasy, blocked in traffic like sitting ducks. Some tricky and skillful maneuvering by our driver got us out of our position and heading in the opposite direction towards the airport. Our driver, Sharon, being a local and knowing the area, with best intentions (we presume) attempted to take a side road to get us back on track. The turn was into a narrow alley in a poor neighborhood. I say “poor neighborhood” to differentiate it from the safe houses. These were mud buildings, cluttered with daily activity of average Kabul natives. Not knowing what was ahead since we couldn’t see past the first turn about 20 meters in, we directed Sharon to back up and keep the vehicle on major, paved streets only.

He got us back on the main road and drove at breakneck speed in the direction of the airport. Keep in mind that there are no traffic laws in Afghanistan—at least I’ve never seen indication of any. Traffic circles are usually the most exciting, being congested with vehicles, pedestrians, donkey carts, trucks, soldiers, bicycles, and just about anything else you can imagine, intertwining in every direction with no clear right of way. It’s actually quite amazing to see, like a choreographed dance, all the players seem to move with an inherent grace, sort of like a school of shad or flock of sparrows shifting direction and skirting obstacles almost as one being, never colliding.

We made it back to the safe houses just fine. Never did learn what the detour and congestion was all about. After dropping Dana off at his house, the driver was going to my house and we were stopped for a short while in normal traffic. Kids, as usual, came up to my window to sell gum or simply beg. There was something I hadn’t seen before—a woman in a buqua leading a blind man. Impossible to tell how old she was, I got the feeling that the man was her son, as opposed to being her husband. I rolled down my window and gave her all the cash I had on hand—three dollars.

Friday was a better day. Went to Camp Phoenix with some other MPRI personnel and played racquetball, then went to the PX and ate pizza. Went back home and took a nap until suppertime. Fridays are a feast. This Friday I had steak and crab legs, with pralines & cream ice cream for desert.

Yesterday was a bonanza. I had two boxes in the mail. One was some PT shirts and shorts I ordered with the $30 Wal-Mart gift certificate I won in the monthly photo contest; and the other was from Julie. Valentine’s card & candy, magazines, headphones, an optical mouse for my notebook computer, and assorted mail.

Now it’s Sunday morning, a normal work day, and I’m sitting in my conex box/office writing this in MS Word to copy into the blog later. Has to be later because the internet is down. It’s snowing hard, and whenever it rains or snows, the internet goes down.

I added some new pics to the photobucket. You’ll see the burqua woman & blind man; my interpreter/translators Aimal & Abdullah; Dana; Dana’s driver, Sharon; and Strawberry.

Out.

Have you ever noticed how on TV shows and in the movies, the bad guys are always horrible shots? They can spray countless bullets at the hero and miss every time. There might be some truth to that. We get daily Security Reports on activities the previous day. Here's an excerpt of the one I received yesterday:

Rocket/Mortar Fire: 07 Feb, Kabul Province, Kabul District, Kabul City, Two sets, reportedly of two rockets each, were fired at Kabul City. The point of origin was determined as Bagrami District. The first set impacted in an area between the Airport and Camp Souter. The second set impacted on the ANA range. No casualties or damage resulted from either.

So four rockets were fired and they all missed... Now I'm not complaining, I am quite happy that the insurgents can't shoot. I just thought it was noteworthy.

Also interesting are the reports of suicide bombers. I think I have this suicide bomber thing figured out. The reason for suicide bombers is because the insurgents are such lousy shots. Since they can't seem to be able to hit the side of a barn from the inside with the doors closed, they use suicide bombers to increase the probability of a hit. However, what you don't hear about on the news, are those suicide bombers who also miss. Here are some fairly common reports:

BBIED: 31 Jan, Nangarhar Province, Muhmand Dara District, Torkham Border Post - A suicide bomber, wearing or carrying a device entered the border post building and detonated his device. Initial reports indicate that the bomber was the only casualty.

VBIED: 04 Feb, Kandahar Province, Kandahar District, Kandahar/Kabul road – An ISAF convoy was subjected to a VBIED attack. No casualties, other than the suicide bomber, were reported. Only minor damage to a convoy vehicle was reported.

So they can't shoot and even the suicide bombers often kill only themselves.See? Don't worry about me--I'm not in danger! Death to the Taliban!

Today was interesting.

Alex Henderson arrived in-country about a week after I did. A retired Army Warrant Officer, Alex is a confident, outgoing guy. He let it slip that his buddies call him "Hollywood". Easy to believe that--Hollywood has curly hair, baby doe eyes, and a girl in every port. Like many of the guys here, he worked for KBR previously, in Djibouti. His last assignment in the Army took him to Bagram Air Base, about 60 miles north of Kabul. He has a twelve-year old daughter living with his mom.

When new employees get here, we are all assigned a laptop computer, among other things. In our conex box/office at D-1, we have a wireless Internet connection. D-1 is where I work--it is the Afghan National Army (ANA) National Supply Depot. There are also two other National Supply Depots called D-0 and D-2. Those of you familiar with military logistics will probably point out that there can only be one National Supply Depot. I agree, but things are different here in Afghanistan. Don't even start on the problem of having a "D-0". Back to the story: Alex's computer was never able to establish an Internet connection. For reasons too involved to flesh out here, we were never able to get our sole tech support guy to fix it. So today our boss, Dana Cook, sent Alex & I out into the city to buy a new Internet card on the economy (reimbursable, of course).

Did I tell you about Dana Cook? He's a crusty, loud former Army maverick from South Dakota. In the few weeks that I've been here, working from a desk next to his, I know all I'll ever need to know about hunting buffalo, elk, coyotes, rabbits, deer, prairie dogs, and whatever else walks, runs, crawls, swims or flies in or around the Black Hills. His wife sounds like a sweet woman and she must be an absolute saint, I'm sure. Interesting also to get a local's perspective on Harley riders, the Sturgis Rally, and Indians. Don't get me wrong, I'm picking on him in case he ever reads this. Dana is actually a great guy and has invited me & my family to stay at his house next time we go to Sturgis to do some fishing, and perhaps consume some adult beverages.

Alex & I grabbed one of our Interpreter-Translators (IT), Gee, and headed out into town in an MPRI vehicle commandeered by one of our drivers, Abdul. Gee apparently knew where to buy a Internet card. The route started out fairly familiar--down Jalalabad Road toward Camp Eggers. Then we turned off next to the Ministry of Defense toward downtown Kabul. We started to see a lot of people walking alongside the road, and Alex asked the driver where they were headed. "Downtown" he replied.

There are pics in my photobucket album. I'm almost lost for words. Downtown Kabul looked like it was right out of a movie. The first movie that comes to mind is "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome", only the scenery in Thunderdome was cleaner and better organized. Throngs of traffic--everything from military vehicles to donkey wagons to people wagons to people. There seemed to be no order to the chaos. Everything from power cords to 'fresh' produce to fish was available to sale on the streets. Gee had the driver stop and let us out in the middle of it all. Then he led us into what I thought was a storefront shop, instead it was a doorway into a larger "mall" in the interior. Wow. It was an open courtyard, with about seven stories of shops overlooking a shabby-looking building in the middle, onto which trash and debris was deposited. The whole place smelled like urine, body odor, and marijuana. Could have been clover cigarettes, but it sure smelled like marijuana to me. We looked into several dirty shops cluttered with electronics, computer equipment, video supplies, etc., from every country and manufacturer imaginable. Gee asked for the part in about a dozen shops before we gave up and headed to another possible source.

That's when I realized that I made a mistake I will never do again. I had left the sanctuary of reasonable civilization needing to urinate. I asked Gee if they had bathrooms there. He hesitated, then led me to the rear of the mall and out into another adjacent enclosed area. There it really got ugly. Two boys, I guess about ten years old, were monitoring the "bathroom". As a stall became available, they handed me about four sheets of pink toilet paper and pointed to the door through which I was supposed to go. I walked into a 4' by 4' concrete stall with a 6" by 8" hole in the floor. The smell was almost unbearable. I skillfully aimed at the hole and completed my task. Through the hole I could plainly see the deposits of the visitors before me. I say "plainly see" because there was sunlight down there. I hesitate to envision what exactly was out there. On the way out, one of the boys had his hand out (imagine that!) and Gee gave him ten Afghanis (about twenty cents).

Our next stop was a smaller, dirtier mall, but we found the Internet card for $70.00 US dollars.

I learned some new words today. While getting back into the vehicle to leave, a police officer told our driver to "Bora, bora!" (Go, go!), and in traffic on the way back, Abdul called somebody a "kaka-e-khar" (uncle of donkey) and a "shadi" (monkey).

I added some pics of "jingle trucks". We get a lot of shipments through Pakistan. The Pakistanis like to decorate their trucks with bright paint and chains sort of like wind chimes. They jingle when they go down the road. Hence the name "jingle trucks"!