Portable Films

Re-blog

2010-09-26T09:33:00.002-04:00

It has been eighteen months since the last post. Maybe I will continue again, but doing much more writing outside of blogging now. Time is scarce, the to do list is long.

You deserve a falafel break today

2009-03-08T14:35:00.004-04:00

Our correspondent reports that falafel sandwich shops are everywhere. The other day he and a patrol of 30 soldiers walked past one, and it being lunch time, and their MRE-jaded palats yearning for something exotic, decided to spread some foreign economic assistance around. They placed an order for 30 sandwiches-- the sandwiches consist of 3-4 little fried bean meal balls with onions, tomato, parsley and secret sauce in a pita pocket-- the Big Mac of Iraq. The shop owner was delighted.

As reported here before, soldiers regularly spend money in shops buying drinks, sandwiches, sweets, etc. as a practical matter and to promote good international relations. Our correspondent has never gotten sick from this road food, and reports the shops are quite health conscious, with the preparers wearing latex gloves when handling the food. Maybe the local chamber of commerce runs classes in how to appeal to soldiers.

Sometimes the order is so large that the owners have to slip out the back to buy supplies at the corner grocer. But the troops are patient and grateful for the rest. It would be impolite to complain or leave because of having to wait a few minutes longer.

A visit from the media

2009-03-08T14:24:00.002-04:00

Our correspondent was out and about with his squad on patrol one day last week, when a convoy pulled aside them, and civilians poured out along with a Colonel. TV cameras abounded. A network news reporter (female) was visiting and doing a story about the situation, and our correspondent's patrol happened to be one of the few out, so they were picked. There was a flurry of activity, and our correspondent was amazed how many people were required to take a few shots. Not cottoning much to such goings on, he hung back bemused until the media circus moved along and let him get back to work. Unfortunately he did not have his camera along. Maybe next time.

Iraq and $$$$$$$$$$$$

2009-03-08T14:21:00.001-04:00

Our correspondent telephoned Saturday. Indeed, there were troubles at his base. A recent blog entry from a journalist embedded at the base said one soldier had been killed and 24 rockets hit the base. Our correspondent expressed surprise that so many rockets had hit. Didn’t seem like it at the time. You never know for sure, but it’s amazing how little gets into the mainstream media.

Meanwhile his work continues as he travels outside the wire every day. It’s not terribly interesting because most of the time is spent waiting for the Iraqi police or army to decide to do something. It gives pause to wonder why so many troops will be needed over the next 12 months. The Iraqi police/military are happy the U.S. troops remain, but probably because the U.S. military is so generous with funds. Brand new Ford and Chevy pickups are sprouting like crocuses in the spring. Iraqi chop shops weld machine gun mounts to the bed and they become the poor man’s Bradley fighting vehicle. In true U.S. fashion, they even argue about which is best, Chevy or Ford. The consensus seems to be Chevy. “Ford no good,” he hears a lot. Poor Ford.

Our correspondent feels that if U.S. troops are sent home, but the money keeps flowing, the peace process would accelerate, save the U.S. billions and lower casualties and violence on all sides. Sounds like this should be a new pillar of our foreign policy. Send money, not troops. This is how Saudi Arabia and other Middle East oil barons work, and they’ve managed to tie the U.S. into a pretzel knot in both Afghanistan and Iraq for a miniscule fraction of the U.S. military costs in both of these ventures.

What happens when the U.S. military leaves Iraq?

2009-03-04T14:05:00.005-05:00

Our correspondent's wife sent this thoughtful article that digs deeper than what you'll find in most mainstream media.

http://www.stripes.com/article.asp?section=104&article=61096

Worry

2009-03-04T08:17:00.002-05:00

Our correspondent has not been in touch much recently. From incomplete news media reports, we know there have been assaults in his area. When there are assaults, standard procedure at military bases is to shut down all non-essential communications, which means no phone calls or Internet access. This prevents the news media/families/others from receiving thousands of bits of very possibly incorrect information from personnel who speak from hearsay, gossip, emotion, etc. Sometimes the shut down lasts several days while the facts are sorted out and then distributed. No news is the best news.

So we wait, and....

Explosives in the backpack

2009-02-26T20:23:00.002-05:00

Our correspondent's dear wife relayed this story from him. While on a recent mission our correspondent's squad received a call from the Iraqi police that they had discovered a team of criminals burying an IED in the street. They disrupted the vile deed, and chased the perps. Meanwhile, guards were left to keep people away from the IED, and they asked for assistance to remove the explosive device. Our correspondent, having spent a year as a combat engineer and safely blown up many an IED and other ordnance, took a look at the thing and determined that pasting a little hunk of C4 plastique explosive and detonating it would eliminate it nicely. That is the safest thing to do with an unpredictable IED.

Unfortunately, not in the engineers anymore, our correspondent no longer carried hunks of C4 in his backpack. So, they called in demolition specialists who arrived with a full team and a robot. The robot carried and set the C4 on the IED. Everyone took cover, and it was safely blown up. Our correspondent's squad members, not having been that close to a real explosion before were mightily impressed with the power. To our correspondent, it was kind of piddling, but he went along with the spirit of the moment and acted impressed too.

He made a mental note to contact higher ups about permission to carry a hunk of C4 in his backpack, for just such situations. Why bring in a whole squad with robots, and take up hours of so many people's time? He could have taken care of the thing in five minutes. What efficiency!

Sensible as this is, he doubts the higher-ups will buy it. Not such a bad thing for his many friends who would have one less thing to worry about.

The Iraqi and the chair

2009-02-14T09:57:00.007-05:00

Our correspondent phoned from Iraq this week to let us know things are going well for him, despite recent heart-breaking news. We had been concerned because of the terrible loss of soldiers and Iraqis in the homicidal bombing last week. The victims were in the same large battalion as our correspondent, but not personally known by him.

Generally he’s finding Iraq to be a much more peaceful place than when he left it a little more than a year ago. He said the primary troublemakers are not Iraqis, but foreigners whose goal is to destabilize Iraq and thwart progressive democratic initiatives by Iraqis. These insurgents come from other Middle Eastern countries like Saudi Arabia and Iran—even though they are not “officially” recognized by those governments. They are well-organized and well-funded, with high-tech military gear and lots of money to bribe the poorest and most gullible Iraqis into committing desperate acts like suicide truck bombings. These funders are the real terrorists, and the root of the problem.

According to our correspondent, Iraqis see these people as a plague unleashed by the American invasion of Iraq—just as many wise Americans warned back in 2003 when George W. Bush was pushed by ill-informed neo-cons like Dick Cheney, Don Rumsfeld, Richard Perl, and Paul Wolfowitz to dismantle the Iraqi government and created a fertile field for criminal and totalitarian elements to take root and grow with little resistance—and sometimes inadvertent assistance, as in Guantanamo and Abu Gharib.

Our correspondent works closely with the Iraqi Police and Army providing training and back-up assistance as the Iraqis track down and dismantle the insurgent leadership and infrastructure developed since the invasion. The Iraqis have become a competent force, handling intelligence, planning, and execution of raids against suspected bomb factories, weapons caches, and insurgent foreigners.

In such a role, most Iraqis are happy the U.S. forces remain, for now, but they want full control of their country returned as soon as possible. The forces agreement signed late last year between the U.S. and Iraq stipulates that the U.S. military not work independently of the Iraqis. Therefore, much of our correspondent’s work is done from Iraqi police stations. If no missions are planned on a particular day, the soldiers remain at the station until the Iraqis ask for specific support. Our correspondent is impressed by their bravery in facing violent situations alone.

The missions are usually planned jointly, but the Iraqis carry them out. The U.S. forces hang back, with air support and other options on alert, in case immediate assistance is requested by the Iraqis. His sector is a fairly upscale neighborhood of professionals, teachers, and students living in large, well-taken care of homes with clean streets and parks, so it is generally safer. The insurgents infiltrate the poorest, densely populated neighborhoods, where they can easily hide, threaten, cajole and bribe distressed, angry, and even mentally ill people into planting roadside bombs or performing suicide attacks.

A surprising amount of time is spent drinking tea and munching from trays of sweets provided by the Iraqi hosts, while they discuss situations and strategies at the police station. Our correspondent asks that we think of this cooperative situation, when the news is full of dire events.

When asked if he was getting soft from the tea and sweets, our correspondent reminded me there was still plenty of walking with 80 lb backpacks, both day and night. In downtime at the barracks, he’s been going to the exercise room, where a body-builder buddy gives him free professional-level personal training, and is turning him into an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike (painfully, he added).

Much time is spent walking through the community, establishing a presence. Streets are busy, shops are open, and people crowd the sidewalks. The soldiers stop in cafes and restaurants for snacks and drinks. They have a budget to buy stuff in shops, which keeps the shopkeepers happy. They’ll always and chat (through interpreters) with people on the street.

We sent a tiny helmet-mounted video camera to our correspondent who reports he has taken several hours of video during these patrols, and will send a few DVDs soon. He says we’ll enjoy the lively street scenes in this newly relaxing Iraqi culture.

Our correspondent relayed the following example of the improving cultural interaction when he was on foot patrol in a residential neighborhood.

During regular breaks, squad members bend down on one knee, a good, alert resting position (and practically a smaller target). One soldier stationed himself next to an iron gate, and soon an old man opened the gate to peer out at the commotion of a dozen soldiers on his doorstep. His surprised eyes met the kneeling soldier’s at his feet, and he said “Salaam.” The soldier dutifully replied with the proper “Asalaam allaykum.” The old man perused the soldier a moment then went back into the house. He returned with an old plastic chair which he placed on the street and offered to the soldier with a brief comment. The translator yelled out, “He said-- 'As long as you’re relaxing, you should be comfortable.'” The soldier, again mindful of his cultural sensitivity training, didn’t dare refuse, so nodded with thanks, smiled, and sheepishly took the seat. The rest of the squad, still on their knees, stared wide-eyed, barely controlling their laughter. Regrettably, our correspondent's camera was not on at the time.

It’s a relief to hear of the improving conditions in Iraq. Stories like this, which rarely get into the big media, give us hope and a measure of comfort.

News Flash from Mosul- Suicide bomber kills four US troops

2009-02-09T18:13:00.006-05:00

As far as we know now, most likely, our correspondent is OK. We haven't had any official news from the military on this as of 6:14 pm EST today (Monday, Feb 9), but reports started coming in on AP, Reuters, CNN, BBC and others today around noon that four U.S. soldiers and their Iraqi interpreter, as well as several civilians were killed when a suicide bomber drove a car into a Humvee riding in a convoy in Mosul, and detonated the explosive, destroying the Humvee.

Naturally we are terribly concerned, but our sources close to command of our correspondent's unit have not been informed of casualties, so the assumption is that they were in a different unit.

The horror of this is huge, no matter what. We will post any news here as soon as we hear anything.

The Washington Post has an article

From our correspondent in Iraq-- a typical day

2009-01-22T18:15:00.005-05:00

Our correspondent sent this email describing his typical day. Times are intentionally blocked out. IP means Iraqi Police. You can probably google all other acronyms.

well, lights on was at ****

i kicked off my sleeping bag, put my shower shoes on and grabbed my toiletry bag, my towel and a bottle of water
walked out to the shower trailer, only 20m from our building

air was very chilly in bare feet and PTs, so i hurried over to it

water was nice and piping hot because it was early, and because most everyone is living elsewhere

shaved, and brushed my teeth with the bottled water because i dont trust the water

walked back to my room and changed into ACU's, i noticed they have a tear in them, so i make a mental note to take them over to a "tailoring" place run by a quartermaster company that will repair them

head outside and chat with my buddies joe, nick, and the LT while they have their morning cigarettes

i sling my weapon over my shoulder and we walk over to the chow hall

its cool and crisp, probably in the low fifties, our breath puffs in the air

talk a little about the mission that day, the LT is upset that he didnt get anymore planning time, if we had more time to plan we could split into multiple teams and arrange for air cover, as it is, we'll "keep it simple, stupid" and manuever as one element

we all show our ID's and that our weapons are on "safe" to the chow-hall guards

i wash my hands thouroughly, with lots of soap

chow hall is nice, i think about getting a made-to order omelet, but decide on scrambled eggs, a biscuit, and fruit juice

we head back, its almost **** now, and i make sure my team has started getting the MRAP ready, i remind Burnett to get the rhino warmed up, and Barth that we got some lubricant in, so he should make sure to apply some to the machine-guns bolt today, they say "roger, sergeant"

burnett tells me that the vehicle is ready at around ****, i spot check the vehicle, checking radio frequencies and that there is fresh oil on the 240B, the guys have a couple of battery-powered speakers and are listening to hip-hop and joking around by the trucks

the LT and Ski come out a little after ***** and give us the mission brief, go over the "SIGACTS" (significant actions of the last 24 hours), current "BOLO" (be on the look out) for vehicles and personnel.

**things are expected to heat up before election day**

one of our interpreters is going on vacation for two weeks, so we take a few minutes to strap his suitcases in the trucks, (we strive to have nothing loose in the trucks, in case of a rollover or IED strike)

we all pile in the vehicles and perform final radio checks and head out

we drive out the gate and take turns firing the heavy machine guns into the test fire pit, i smile as our 240B chatters happily with its fresh lubrication. a few small iraqi boys scramble to scoop up the brass from the expended catrigdes

we drive north, then turn east and drive over the river, there are several bridges, and already lots of traffic, IP's guard every intersection and whistle shrilly to clear traffic out of our way

its a 20-minute drive to a checkpoint outside the city, where we drop off the interpreter "Freddy," on the way i chat with him and find out that he was an infantry sergeant and fought against Iran in Saddam's army. he says if we get him an AK, he can help us on raids "no problem" also, his son is getting surgery...his medical english isnt so great, so i dont understand what the problem is, but that the doctors dont anticipate any problems, he gives me an extra cell-phone number that we can call in a few weeks to make sure he doesnt need a few more days

when we reach the checkpoint, we pull off the road, and one of our vehicles runs over a piece of scrap metal and its tire bursts, so after Freddy is dropped off we call up HQ and let them know that we'll be coming back in to get our tire changed

we pull in, drive over to the maintenance pad, and the mechanics jack-up and swap the tire out, probably relieved to have a simple job to work on

we head out, test fire again, and drive over to ERB-* (emergeny response battalion-*) a militarized group of IP that are supplemented by a team of IA special operations troopers

their job is primarily counter-insurgency, as opposed to the criminal-investigation of the regular IP

they have a set of shiny new pick-up trucks, with pintle mounts for russian machine guns mounted in the beds

our LT links up with the IP and goes over a "map recon" with the IP officers, making a plan to quickly surround a suspected rocket-launch site when we get the call

our soldiers take turns taking pictures of each other holding an RPG.. and we settle in for a nice 6-hour wait.

we watch wedding convoys circle the traffic circle

drink cups of insanely sweet chai (here, strong black tea)...

open up MREs for some stray dogs.... nap and relax

at **** we get the word that radar detected a series of rockets fired from well outside the city, on the plus side, they fail spectacularly, apparently spiraling off randomly

we shake hands with the IP, congratulate each other on a job well done, mount up and head back in

we clear our weapons, everyone making sure that someone else inspects their weapons firing chambers

drive over to the fuel point and fill up

its getting dark, Clark greets us, he stayed behind today and got our final humvee up and running, distributed mail, and built a living area for the new guy

i eagerly tear open my amazon package, (a gift from a random Soapbox reader in England), then, a little guiltily, for not checking on it first, spot check my vehicle, making sure gear is properly stowed and electronics are shut down correctly

i run and drop off some laundry at the laundry facility, run by filipinos

then meet up with the other NCOs and head to the chow hall, tonight is mexican food, i pick up enchiladas, rice, refried beans, and a salad

outside, nick brings me a milkshake because I got one for him the other night

Nick and I walk over to a pirate-dvd store and talk in funny english accents while discussing the merits of the various dvds

i chuckle over a "matt demon" collection

Nick selects a "future weapons, complete 4 seasons" for $15, and i head over to the mwr, hoping that the internet is working and that my beautiful wife, whom i love dearly and miss even more is online, (luckily, she is!)

Dispatch from Iraq- opening doors

2009-01-02T10:46:00.003-05:00

In Kuwait, there is a training site where soldiers learn how to open doors. Since much of their work involves acting on tips from locals regarding buildings where militants may be hiding weapons caches, bomb factories, or themselves, the soldiers need to learn this. They use various methods to open doors. Sometimes a simple knock will do, but sometimes the information is so urgent that bursting through a door is best.

The training site features a long masonry wall with multiple doorways hung with doors of different materials, strengths and styles. The soldiers go from door to door opening them with either a crowbar, maybe a shotgun blast, or an explosive charge that blows the door off its hinges.

At the end of the row, the soldiers take a break while a local contractor and crew cleans up the mess. They jump down from their truck which is piled high with new doors, and make quick work of hanging and locking them for the next go around. They do this all day long, but hey, it's work.

Sick in Iraq - Dispatch from our correspondent

2008-12-31T11:54:00.007-05:00

Unfortunately, I am sick again, and much worse this time. Had to go get the medics up last night to get some help. Feeling better this morning, but after I send off this email I'm going to crawl back into my cot and try to sleep this off.

The problem is that our battalion and the battalion that we are replacing are both here at the same time, so we're crammed into every little space imaginable. Living so close together is making sure everyone gets sick. Also, there's so many people, that there is seldom any hot water, so people aren't terribly clean and/or spend time very cold and wet every day.

We won't start patrols for a while, I'll let you know when we do. Our sector is one of the quieter ones, but is also very diverse. It includes a forest ( yes, a forest in Iraq!), a university,(oh boy...politically active young people with knowledge of chemistry and electronics), some ancient ruins (still respected to this day, although they occupy an area of good real-estate in the city they are only used as sheep and goat grazing grounds, even the insurgents seem to respect the area as out-of-bounds), and several city neighborhoods.

Oh, also a lovely section of a local river that has been known, for as long as the locals can remember, as "Shit Creek"....sounds picturesque. I'm not making that up about the creek, the intelligence officer said they've tried to get a different name for it from the locals so that the intelligence sergeants didn't get to say things like "the target is up Shit Creek" in their briefings...but no luck.

Dispatch from Kuwait-- Of Camels and Guns and MREs

2008-12-28T10:05:00.006-05:00

From our diligent correspondent in Kuwait waiting to enter Iraq comes this story:

There are numerous training facilities in Kuwait, the initial staging area for many American troops who spend some time there acclimating themselves to the desert environment. The soldiers regularly train to keep in shape and maybe learn some helpful tips. In one exercise, the unit was bussed to an artillery range deep in the desert. The view was rolling sand dunes for 360 degrees.

Before practice firings could begin in earnest, a gun misfired. No one was hurt, but it required an expert investigation, which took several hours. Safely certified, they were ready to fire the first shots when a herd of camels appeared on the horizon, necessitating another stand-down. Firing range personnel dispatched a fleet of Humvees to hurry the beasts along. But camels it seems have little fear of puny humans or their machines, and it looked like a lunch break made sense while the round-up proceeded.

The soldiers hunkered down opening their MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) pouches, but were interrupted by a group of the dispersed camels who had developed a taste for MREs. Hopelessly addicted to meatloaf and gravy dinners, they began snatching MREs right out of the soldiers' hands. Again, camels have little fear of humans, whom they outsize 5 to 1, and whose teeth can cut a NY strip-sized hunk from an arm. The day promised to be quite long-- and was. The army does not cancel training.

Our correspondent has been asking me for a helmet camera, and with material like this, it's a good possibility. Stay tuned.

Innocent bystanders killed by Mosul car bomb

2008-11-27T10:26:00.005-05:00

More...

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/iraq/2008-11-27-mosul-bomb_N.htm?csp=34

India

2008-11-27T08:22:00.002-05:00

In all the coverage I've watched about the attacks on Mumbai, the most thought-provoking was that when patrons fled through the Taj hotel kitchen, they were pursued by the attackers, who shot and killed kitchen workers on their way through.

In another report, of the 101 reported killed, only six were foreigners-- who were supposedly the targets. How many maids, cooks, bellhops, children etc. have been killed?

This morning, a bomb exploded near the U.S.embassy in Kabul killing four Afghan civilians and injuring dozens of others.

So, the greatest victims of these sorts of attacks are invariably the poorest and most innocent, and the perpetrators are the most ignorant, gullible, psychotic specimens of humanity imaginable. Take care Evan.

Meeting the Invisibles

2008-06-18T13:47:00.004-04:00

I started teaching adult ESL classes at a local community college a few weeks ago. The biggest surprise was the diversity of the students—not so much because it was an ethnically diverse classroom, which it is, but diverse in the kinds of people I normally interact with. My students are the people who are usually invisible in my world. They clean houses and businesses at night. They decorate donuts. They landscape, build decks, lay tile, paint, or flip burgers. Some work in Wal-mart or stock grocery shelves—and they’re not bright faced teens working to pay car insurance.

Being in a college town, I tend to hang out with white anglo-saxon college-educated people. They are teachers, doctors, writers, high-level government workers, bankers, insurance agents, filmmakers, web designers. Those are the jobs you expect to hear about at local party chit-chat. Now that I spend a few hours a day away from this group, I see what a cultural bubble it is.

Though there was initial wonder at the “strange” professions of the students, they are engaging people, and the mysteries of fast-food prep, house cleaning, and immigration are just as interesting as any of my regular friends’ occupational stories—- probably, more so, given their adventure of leaving home country and family to make it on the mean streets of the USA. They are bona-fide risk takers. What they’ve done and why; their hopes and dreams are pretty compelling; their lives full of dangers unknown by me and most of my suburban friends.

You don’t think of that when you brush by the maid in the hotel corridor, or the painting crew having lunch on somebody's lawn. You don’t think about that when working late at the office, and a guy walks by pushing a vacuum.

These people are not invisible to me now. I make an effort to say hello. Talk about the weather or something and recognize their existence as more than a piece of furniture without much effect on the world.

A Life of Luxury

2008-06-15T11:24:00.002-04:00

I stayed at a 4 Diamond hotel for a few days last week, and it was nice, but excessive to the point of discomfort. My travels in the past year have led me to a number of similar big name luxury spots, mostly at Hotwire.com rates where $300/night rooms were discounted to $60-- not much more than the smelly Comfort Inn with the grinding AC under the window.

I've found that the more expensive the room's rack rate (usually $250-350), the more the hotel nickels and dimes its customers; like charging $10 a day for Internet, $6.50 for the bottle of European water in the room, a laughable $3.50 for a 50 cent snickers from the mini-bar, $25 for a room service continental breakfast, $15 for a movie, and a paltry list of cable channels.

I'd rather stay in a Holiday Inn, where Internet, parking,bottle of Dasani, and HBO are all free, and a decent hot breakfast buffet is $10.

Help bloggers in Afghanistan

2008-03-08T15:49:00.001-05:00

http://afghanpenlog-en.blogspot.com/2008/02/first-afghan-penlog-blogging-workshop.html

You can make a donation to this group that is doing important work promoting free speech in Afghanistan.

Young Afghan journalist sentenced to death for discussing the Koran

2008-01-22T11:33:00.000-05:00

Note: I just received this sobering message...

"A bad news from Parwiz's brother.

Kamran Mir Hazar
Exiled Poet, Writer, Journalist and Web Master
Email: kamran_mirhazar@yahoo.com & Editor@kabulpress.org
Web: www.kabulpress.org & www.rahapen.org

----- Forwarded Message ----
From: yaqub ibrahimi
To: kamran Mir Hazar
Sent: Tuesday, January 22, 2008 6:16:50 PM
Subject: Parwez is sentenced to execution
Dear Kaamraan jaan, the fucking balkh primery court without inform anyone sentenced Parwez Kaambakhsh to execution,
ibrahimi"

Story
The case of Parwiz Kambakhsh, a reporter for the local newspaper, “Jahan-e Now,” and a student at Balkh University, requires the urgent attention of journalists and activists for freedom of expression. Kambakhs was accused and has been unlawfully detained for three months for possessing an article, which discussed controversial verses of The Holy Quran regarding women’s rights.

We believe that the government of Afghanistan and his Excellency president Karzai has an important responsibility to secure free speech for journalists, especially in the area of religion, like the world’s leading democracies.
We pledge our support for and call on Mr. Karzai to work for the immediate release of Mr. Kambakhsh. He has strong support among those who care about freedom of speech and democracy, and they are distributing the facts of this case world-wide.

Show Your Support
Kabulpress.org asks you to show your support for Parwiz and free speech in Afghanistan by posting a comment below. Your comments will be automatically esending an e-mail to Hamid Karzai, president of Afghanistan, his spokesperson. Include your name, occupation, country of residence, and a comment asking for the release of Parwiz Kambakhsh.

E-mail your support to president@afghanistangov.org and spokesperson@afghanistangov.org.

A million dollars embezzled from Kabul hospital construction project?

2008-01-08T20:21:00.001-05:00

1,000,000 USD is unaccounted for in UN, Intersos, Ahyaye Mojadad Char Dehi (an Afghan construction company) joint humanitarian aid effort

Note: Afghan journalist in exile, Kamran mir Hazar, prepared this report, including evidence, two years ago when he was head of the News Department at Kabul’s Radio Kleed. Unfortunately, the Attorney General’s Office of Afghanistan has not acted to arrest or question the accused people, even after being contacted repeatedly and provided with documents and other evidence.

This report indicates the level of difficulty working in a developing country. Much of the U.S. leadership contends that infrastructure cannot proceed without a military "victory," however, as this article reveals, often the greater enemies of advancement are large bureaucracies with dishonest or lax oversight that cost millions of dollars and sow great mistrust for authority. This is one small example.

Mr. Gary K. Helseth, former General Director of the 600 million USD-a-year United Nations Office of Project Services-Afghanistan(UNOPS) who had worked in Afghanistan for over 20 years, left the country two months after this report was first published. His U.N. e-mail addresses are not functional, and so far, we have been unable to contact him for additional information.

The Project
In 2002, the Ministry of Public Health of Afghanistan asked UNOPS to add 50 more beds to the 52 bed Khairkhana Hospital. UNOPS accepted the project. The Italian Government Foreign Office then committed funding up to 2,200,000 USD for the project.

After the funds were delivered to UNOPS- Afghanistan, they were released to the global Italian aid organization, Intersos-- less 270,000 USD of the original amount, which apparently was taken by UNOPS for internal expenses. Intersos is a corporation operating as an NGO in Afghanistan and has an office in Shahr-e-Now, Kabul. It was organized primarily by the Italian Trade Union Confederation in 1992, and its current annual budget is approximately 30,000,000 USD.

Afghan Government Investigation
Intersos oversaw the project, but what was the result, and how much of the 2,200,000 USD was actually spent on the project? Mr. Samadi, Director of Criminal Investigation Department of Attorney General Office responds:

The Intersos Corporation did not work on the project but signed a contract with another Afghan Corporation, Ahyaye Mojadad Char Dehi, led by Engineer Amin for 920,000 USD. Where did the balance of 1,010,000 USD go?

Mr. Samadi adds, "we asked the hospital personnel and the employees of the Afghan Corporation who worked on the project with the Intersos organization, and eventually found that Ahyaye Mojadad Char Dehi had some secret arrangements with Intersos. Based on our evaluation and inventory, they did not spend more than 250,000 to 300,000 USD on the project."

The Attorney General’s Office claims that they have concrete evidence and documents regarding the project. They are looking for Engineer Amin who they suspect may have embezzled some funds, but he cannot be found. Mr. Samadi says that Engineer Amin once phoned the Attorney General’s Office and threatened them, if they investigated this case.

Mr. Samadi, further stated that Intersos allocated 80,000 USD for the demolition of just two old rooms at the hospital’s main gate. When I asked why he did not summon and investigate the foreign people involved in the project, he answered:

“The Legal and Consulting Board of the Office of President sent us a letter in which it indicated that it is within our jurisdiction to make a claim against Intersos in an Afghan court. We then contacted the Italian Embassy and said that if they refused to assist us with this case, we would take it to the World Court in The Hague through our Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the UN. This is too large an amount of money for poor Afghanistan to just let go missing, and possibly embezzled.”

No Prosecution
The question remains: Do the foreign people involved in this project deserve political immunity from prosecution? It is clear that the Attorney General can prosecute foreigners based on domestic laws. Only Ambassadors, Diplomats and C and D grade foreign officials of the UN have political immunity, so all of the Intersos people involved in this project may be legally prosecuted.

While the Attorney General’s office did not know Intersos’ Kabul address, I found it in Shar-e -Now (New City) Kabul. I visited the office and found a Mr. Marco Rotelli, who did not answer my simple questions but referred me to UNOPS. I tried to contact the responsible persons at UNOPS in Afghanistan. Eventually, I made an appointment with the spokesperson and the Director of UNFPA, Mr. Gary K. Helseth.

Interview with Gary K. Helseth
Mr. Helseth firmly rejected the possibility for any kind of embezzlement in this project. He said that the project was very successful and they were satisfied with its completion. He added that they had employed an Afghan Engineer and a foreign engineer for this project and all the contracts had been already signed in New York.

Regarding the amount of 2,200,000 USD, he said that Intersos Corporation received 2,000,000 for the project, and 200,000 USD was spent on travel expenses and salaries of experts and employees. He added that the Intersos Corporation had been introduced to UNOPS by the Italian Government.

When I asked Mr. Helseth why Intersos did not do the project itself but instead signed a contract with Ahyaye Mojadad Char Dehi, he answered, "It is not true!" He added that Intersos signed a contract with a different corporation, and the money was spent by that corporation. He said they have documents that show this project was completed properly.

Regarding the term of the warranty for the completed building, Mr. Helseth said that theproject was guaranteed for one year . “A few years ago we could not guarantee a project for a year. Most projects in Afghanistan are guaranteed for just three or four months.” He agreed that the amount of 80,000 USD was too much for the demolition of two old rooms in the hospital and said he would check the documents.

"Mr. Helseth, please count and check this project penny by penny and kindly give me the documents to see when ready," I said and he agreed to do so.

A few days later, I received a call from Mr. Helseth. He happily said he had some ten kilos of documents on the project showing that it had been completed successfully, and added I could pick them up at his office. When I arrived, he was photocopying them, and we agreed that he would send them to my office in Radio Kaleed.

After they arrived, I sought out several experts to review these documents.

Experts Disagree With UNOPS Accounting
The experts who accepted my request did want me to reveal their names. One of them still works with the USAID and has completed many projects with that organization. He determined that the total cost of this project was 646,900 USD. Compared to the budget of 2,200,000USD, this leaves about 1,550,100 USD is unaccounted for. This expert emphasized that the budget was written in 2002 and current costs were higher.

Another expert who also wished to remain anonymous estimated the project cost to be 776,280 USD, leaving 1,423,720 USD unaccounted for. He explained that for 776,280 USD “we can build a hospital of about 2,587 square meter (20,000 sq. ft.) to a global standard.” This was the size of the Intersos and UNOPS Khairkhana Hospital project. He added that “even if we ignore the real amount spent, the maximum amount shown in the project reports is still 1,035,000 USD which shows the possibility of embezzlement of more than 1,000,000 USD on this single project.”

Now we should ask Mr. Gary Helseth, former Director of UNOPS in Afghanistan how he defends his organization and Intersos in this project.

Claims of Shoddy Construction at Khairkhana Hospital
While making this report, I went to Khairkhana Hospital and met some of the staff. Asked if the hospital met global standards, Mr. Mohibullah Nejat, the Director, said; "The main problem with the new building is its plumbing system, which was to some extent repaired by the coalition forces about four months ago, and is a bit better now.”

“The building built by Intersos does not have proper ventilation or medical waste systems, which are required for a medical complex. Medical complexes need special engineers, who know about these things,” he added.

Unfortunately when carefully evaluating other completed projects in Afghanistan, we discover even greater numbers of possible embezzlement. It is the responsibility of the government to oversee the operations of the NGOs and corporations. The Attorney General’s Office also has a legal duty and responsibility to prosecute the people who steal from society.

Do Americans understand insurgencies?

2007-12-31T19:31:00.000-05:00

The New York Times today had a list of the presidential candidates’ stands on various relevant topics. Of course, Iraq was near the top of the list. It was disappointing to see that the the Times only mentioned troop removal as the solution to Iraq’s problems. A more comprehensive plan that included an intensive re-building of infrastructure: education, sanitation, energy, health, transportation, and a judicial system would be more productive than just getting the troops home as soon as possible. And though this sentiment is on every Democratic candidate’s website, it was completely neglected in the Times article. Perhaps it is too complex an issue for Times readers to grasp?

The multiple failures following the West’s support of a mujahedeen insurgency against the USSR invasion of Afghanistan should be an enduring lesson that you can’t simply arm factions, then walk away to let them fight it out. There are good alternatives to a military occupation that can build an enduring peace. Afghans would not follow the Talibs one single step, if their basic human needs were being met by the Western coalition.

Even the U.S. military is taking this position more and more, but American politicians and media pander to the uninformed majority that see either “winning the war” or “getting out of the war” as the only solutions. Both are absurd: it is impossible to win or to ignore a war of insurgency. I would love to hear just one politician say “every soldier who leaves Iraq will be replaced by a doctor, lawyer, engineer, carpenter, mechanic, accountant, etc. etc. etc. and have the media repeat it.

Sadly, that goes against the grain of so much of American culture which says that winning only comes through force and submission. That may have been true in the pre-Internet, jet-plane, satellite, nuclear age, but we face a new paradigm where crazed men with a few sticks of dynamite become “Armies of One” (to borrow a U.S. Army recruiting slogan) with more power than a division of thousands—or a Humvee with a few unlucky soldiers. Hopefully our leaders will explore more solutions than running away or sacrificing its best for an impossible “victory.” Hopefully the media will support this, and not promote simplistic solutions.

A picture is worth a thousand words

2007-12-24T08:26:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas message from an Afghan exile to American troops in Afghanistan

2007-12-23T15:21:00.000-05:00

A message received from our friend Amin Wahidi, a writer and educational TV producer from Afghanistan, who now lives in a refugee shelter in Italy, waiting for a judgment on his request for political asylum there. Amin fled Afghanistan last fall after receiving death threats from the Taliban, because he produced programs on English instruction, film history, and music instruction. He is an outspoken supporter of freedom of speech and religion, democracy, peace and social justice.

Merry Christmas – Buon Natale

Eid ul Addha ( The Feast of Sacrifice) one of the biggest feasts for the Muslims came and passed while I am apart from my family, home, friends and I felt how difficult it is to be far from family and miss them on such an important occasion.

When I couldn't say happy eid to my family and friends face to face, now I would like to take the chance of saying merry Christmas to those people from foreign lands who serve in my country and are far from their families at Christmas and the new year occasion.

Merry Christmas to you all, who are reading my blog right now.

And merry Christmas to you who is now far from his home, family and relatives but serving for peace, rebuilding and democracy in my country Afghanistan though missing your dearest ones back in your country in this important occasion, now being far from home, I can feel you very well.

Merry Christmas to you all, who serve in the cold, mountainous and snowy central highlands of my country to keep peace and security for my people, al though you miss your family, country and friends in this occasions that only comes once a year.

Merry Christmas to you all who serve in the windy, dusty and dangerous deserts of Helmand and other south western provinces of my country to keep peace for my people although any moment could be of death or life for you.

Merry Christmas to you all who serve and patrol in the streets of Kabul, where any moment you could expect a bomb blast and could lose your life for peace, freedom and democracy for my people.

And merry Christmas to all civilian and military who serve for peace, security, freedom and democracy in different corners of Afghanistan.

May God bless you all and you will begin the new year with hopes and full of peace, security, happiness for you and for the people of Afghanistan.

Mohammad Amin Wahidi
Exiled writer, journalist and filmmaker from Afghanistan
www.aminwahidi.blogspot.com

Documentary film, "No End In Sight"

2007-11-13T09:26:00.001-05:00

We just saw this riveting and detailed documentary about how the Iraq invasion was planned by those in charge of our loved ones in the military. Long interviews with key insider players are included. Ebert & Roeper gave it "two very big thumbs up"; Time magazine said it is "the most important movie you are likely to see this year." It won the special jury documentary prize at the Sundance Film Festival.

Both Blockbuster and Netflix have it. Check it out and tell your friends who are curious about how the past 4 years in Iraq happened.

Blogger story about Afghan filmmaker friend in exile

2007-11-13T09:21:00.000-05:00

I met Wahidi in Kabul, and we're helping him get his work out to the world. He is currently living in a refugee camp in Milan Italy, waiting for a hearing on his request for political asylum. Read the story here by Christopher Allbritton, a respected journalist who specializes in Middle East issues.

The Real Iraq We Knew-- A view from 12 former Army Captains

2007-10-22T21:41:00.000-04:00

This is an interesting Washington Post article about how soldiers on the ground feel about what they're doing in Iraq. Finally the mainstream media is questioning the government's management of the war and a realistic view of the future.

Read the article here.

Car Bomb

2007-10-16T19:19:00.000-04:00

Evan phoned yesterday from Iraq, a rare occurrence, because he usually calls on the weekend. His work schedule, as always is unpredictable. It had been an easy, but boring day because his unit had been on the emergency response duty. He was upset because the day before, a car bomber wiped out a checkpoint run by one of the little local militia units that were being trained by Evan’s unit. It wasn’t the exact group his squad worked with, but they were close.

Evan said he felt the huge explosion while in his barracks and knew it was something huge. His squad rushed to the scene, but nothing was left—no car, no guard shack, no barriers, just a big hole in the road. Five young men were killed. It must have been beyond horrible.

The U.S. troops vowed to return right away with materials to build a new checkpoint, and re-double their training efforts. There are ways to avoid bombs at checkpoints, but making a mistake in procedure can be fatal. The Iraqis need that extra important training. It is so sad to see your good work destroyed by nihilists.

Yesterday, The New York Times published an intense article about an extremist jihadi, Samir Khan, who lives right here in Charlotte and runs a jihadi website that includes links to videos of car bomb explosions on the Internet, placed to entertain and attract potential “martyrs”. These videos are cut like music videos and are dedicated to some god, not Allah, for sure. Khan, born in Saudi-Arabia, home of most of the 9/11gang, grew up in the U.S. and lives with his parents in a middle class home in Charlotte. I hope somebody gets hold of him before he gets his wish to become a martyr himself soon.

I’m sure the families of the five young militia men who put their lives on the line to help stop the rampage of criminal gangs in Iraq would like to get hold of Mr. Samir Khan too.

Young Afghan Journalists Receiving Death Threats

2007-10-14T13:08:00.000-04:00

Amin Wahidi, 25 year old journalist, filmmaker, and free-speech advocate was recently granted refugee status in Italy after attending the Venice International Film Festival and participating in a Summer School on Cinema and Human Rights at the European Inter-university Center for Human Rights and Democratization. He is currently living in a refugee shelter in Milan, Italy.

Wahidi has spent his whole life in Afghanistan, but after recent numerous death threats has decided to remain in Italy. A series of comments left on Wahidi’s blog from a self-proclaimed Taliban said a suicide bomber would meet Wahidi’s plane when it landed in Kabul. His family recently fled Kabul due to similar threats against them.

Wahidi’s experience is but one example of a widening pattern of violence against young Afghan media workers and journalists. It is part of an alarming relapse back to the days of the Taliban and warlords. Young activists are facing increasing violence and censorship—some from within the U.S. supported Afghan government. They have been threatened, arrested, jailed, kidnapped, had their studios vandalized, and been beaten.

Several young media personalities, including women, have been murdered in the past three years. This year, two have been killed, and they are held up as examples of what will happen to others who attempt to speak out. As a result, many educated, creative media people are fleeing Afghanistan, making it easier for the violent fundamentalists and criminal gangs to have their way.

Though fearing for his safety, Wahidi wants to tell the true story of how Afghanistan is slipping backwards, despite the efforts of many concerned countries and organizations such as NATO, the U.S., and the UN. Like many Afghans, he feels these efforts are insufficient and that Afghanistan is being forgotten by the world once again.

In the short term, Wahidi wants to come to the U.S. to finish his university education, and make films and documentaries about conditions in Afghanistan. He also wants to be a lifeline to colleagues remaining in Afghanistan through the Afghan Academy of Arts and Cinema Education and The Filmmakers Union of Afghanistan. Most important, he wants to return to Afghanistan to work for re-building a democratic, just, and productive society there. His primary interest is to make films on the difficulty of establishing freedom of expression, justice, and human rights in his country.

In early 2005, Wahidi was hired as one of the first writer/producer/director/presenters at the new Ariana Television and Radio Network (ATN), based in Kabul. It was the first independent network to broadcast across Afghanistan, and quickly added coverage via satellite to North America, Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia and across South Asia to the Pacific.

Wahidi produced and hosted three concurrent television programs for ATN: a magazine-style news series on world cinema, an English language instructional series, and a cultural history series focusing on music. He also worked in network promotion and was the assistant programmer for a time. After leaving ATN in 2007, he worked in the production and news departments of two other Afghan broadcast networks, Nureen and Farda.

Prior to working in broadcast, Wahidi developed strong English language skills. In 2004 he was a lead translator/interpreter for the U.S. Army’s Office of Military Co-operation for Afghanistan, in Kabul. He has worked for other translation companies, able to conduct simultaneous English/Farsi-Dari interpretations and document translation.

Wahidi’s ethnic background is Hazara, a consistently persecuted Afghan minority. His father, a Hazara activist, has been arrested and threatened for organizing demonstrations and speaking out against mistreatment of not just Hazara, but all Afghans.

After the ouster of the Taliban in 2002, there was hope for Afghanistan. Cinemas re-opened, Independent TV and radio stations went on the air, scores of newspapers and magazines began to publish, art galleries and performance spaces became active, schools opened, and women returned to work in media, education, healthcare, and government. The country which had endured 30 years of brutal occupation and civil war began to breathe again, a situation especially welcomed by a young generation eager to join the modern world. Now these gains are losing ground, and this sad story is almost invisible to the American public.

Any assistance to help Wahidi reach his goals will be greatly appreciated.

See more about Amin Wahidi and subscribe to his blog at www.aminwahidi.blogspot.com

A cow is a lion in Iraq

2007-10-11T08:28:00.000-04:00

Evan sent this story through Beth:

Evan's patrol was investigating an area after an explosion and came upon a small barn-- more like a shed. Inside was a cow; a very disturbed cow, and who could blame her? A bomb had just gone off. She became more agitated, as Evan and a buddy looked around to see if any dangerous stuff was hidden under the dirt.

The cow suddenly became aggressive, and the soldiers thought it might be better to retreat a little. A staff sergeant, seeing them back out of the barn shouted,

"Hey you guys, it's a cow, not a lion!"

At that very moment the enraged cow leapt over its pen and charged the staff sergeant. He turned and ran up the outside stairs of a nearby house. The angry cow stood below, trapping the hapless sergeant on the roof.

Fortunately, one of the soldiers had a camera and photographed the standoff. Unfortunately, for the sergeant, they were duplicated back at the base and posted in several obvious places with the caption "It's a cow, not a lion!"

A friend flees Afghanistan

2007-10-06T14:21:00.000-04:00

A young writer/producer friend in Afghanistan was invited to the Venice Film Festival last month. Because of escalating death threats against him and his family from Taliban in Afghanistan, he has decided it would be safer to stay in Italy. He is living as a refugee there now, contemplating his next steps.

Please read part of his story sent to me last night. It's a long piece, but an amazing piece of writing:

http://aminwahidi.blogspot.com

The mysterious man in the trunk

2007-10-05T09:08:00.000-04:00

An interesting story from Evan a few weeks ago. His unit has a fair to adequate relationship with the local residents of the area he patrols. They are training a small local militia group, mainly in road checkpoint management 101. One day a group of their young trainees ran up breathlessly saying they had a surprise. They led the soldiers to a car and opened the trunk. Inside was one of the more dangerous local trouble-makers, whom they had somehow managed to recognize and capture.

The militiamen were very proud they caught the fellow. They locked him in the trunk, since it was the only way they had to hold him. I wonder if they’ve been given handcuffs yet. It can get mighty hot in a trunk.

The militia are paid a small amount to keep them steadily working, but there is a sliding reward scale if they provide information or capture a wanted criminal. They were especially happy to deliver this guy who had a higher than average price.

This is a much more community-friendly counter-insurgency tactic than Blackwater’s style of doing business, for example.

Poor Afghanistan- now "The Kite Runner" movie is a problem

2007-10-04T21:54:00.000-04:00

A brewing problem demonstrating modern cultural conflicts between East and West. Read this article in today's New York Times. You'll have to copy and past the link below.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/04/movies/04kite.html

More news from Iraq

2007-09-24T23:06:00.000-04:00

Evan was able to call us for the first time since his return to Iraq three weeks ago. He has been very busy with an unpredictable schedule—sometimes working during the day, sometimes at night. He was surprised to find an increase in dangerous situations in his area. He has had a few close calls in past weeks, which is a little frightening to us.

A high-ranking officer addressed his group and said there had been a measurable increase in safety due to the work of the soldiers out in the streets. It was a welcome pep talk, but whether or not it is enough to rescue Iraq from chaos is something we won’t know for months. My thoughts keep returning to the numbers of troops generals like Colin Powell, Anthony Zinni, and Eric Shinseki recommended to liberate Iraq. It was several hundred thousand. I think you would be hard pressed to find any military on the ground that felt that the 170,000 troops we have can accomplish much.

The answer is difficult, and getting out of Iraq without causing WW III may not be in the will or power of the American people. I hope that when a new president and congress are elected, a more sensible path will be chosen.

We cannot abandon Iraq, but it’s foolish to expect a traditional military victory either. The only people who gain from our current half-hearted occupation of Iraq are the terrorists and military contractors.

A little news from Iraq

2007-09-18T08:10:00.001-04:00

I spoke to Beth yesterday, and Evan had gotten a phone call through to her from Iraq. He is back to his post near Baghdad after a relaxing eighteen day leave home to Texas. All's well with him, but you hear an increasing frustration. From what I gather in my readings and conversations, the U.S. force is/was about 1/3 of what was recommended by experienced Army experts to stabilize Iraq. This higher number was ridiculed by Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, and Perle the civilian heads of the Department of Defense, who plotted the Iraq invasion.

An additional 200,000 troops for the invasion would probably have secured the streets of Baghdad and prevented looting. It would have preserved the infrastructure. It would have controlled Iraq's porous borders with Iran and Syria, where so many of the insurgency came from. It would have allowed posting guards at hundreds of munitions dumps where millions of firearms and tons of ammunition had been stored by Saddam-- most of those munitions were stolen by the insurgency and gangs. More troops would have shown the Iraqi civilian population that we meant business, that we cared about their security and re-building their country into a democracy-- and that we weren't going to hit 'n run and leave them high and dry like we did to the Vietnamese who had helped us in the early 1970s.

Bush's Iraq fiasco is turning into one of history's greatest debacles. It's too bad, our military deserves better.

A bright piece of news from Evan is that his unit is training a local "militia-type group" in police work-- mainly how to maintain a vehicle checkpoint to keep trouble makers out of their village. There is no Iraqi or any other police or army presence in the area except Evan's troop. Most of militia are teenagers-- the age of an average Eagle Scout. He says the work is slow, but the kids are eager enough. This is how we're preparing for our exit. In a way it's heartening, in a way, sad beyond comprehension. What will happen to these kids when the troops leave?

A good book about Iraq

2007-09-13T10:19:00.000-04:00

Evan has come and gone back to Iraq. He had a relaxing time in Texas with Beth, and we spoke with them over Skype videophone a few times. No news from him since he has been back. He has a long hike on his base from barracks to phone center. His schedule is erratic, and there can be long lines at the phones. We have learned to assume that no news is good news.

Right now, we are very interested in the news on state of the surge, as delivered by the government. No surprises there. Crocker and Petraeus were both handpicked by Bush, and Petraeus was chosen for his job after several more seasoned retired generals had turned it down. Given Bush’s history with the Iraq situation, who knows what to believe?

The news we hear is that the soldiers want to get back home as soon as possible. The military has been amazingly overstressed, no matter what your political stance.

I’m reading the book “Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq” by Pulitzer Prize winning author, Thomas E. Ricks. It’s a real eye-opener, covering all the warnings by many experts inside and outside the government who predicted the situation we’re in today. The whole mis-adventure was railroaded by Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, Perle, Libbey, Rice, Chalabi, Miller, Feith, Tenet, and a host of their factotums who thought that war was a football game, where winner takes all, and moves on with a pot of money to the next big game.

Congress and the press fell for it hook, line, and sinker. However, there were plenty in congress, the Army, and press who saw a 10+ year large US military presence in Iraq, but they were shunted aside. The great US military leaders Shinseki and Zinni were pushed out when they expressed their profound doubts.

Read the book for more insight into the truths that are conveniently forgotten. Do whatever you can to see our troops get home safely and the Iraqis find real help through education, infrastructure, and justice. These things cannot be delivered by the military.

Why Afghans are afraid to speak out

2007-08-11T12:58:00.001-04:00

The following comment from Payame Haq was buried in my Afghan filmmaker friend Wahidi's blog. Wahidi is an intelligent, peaceful, justice-seeking artist who is being threatened in Afghanistan for advocating free speech.

People like Payame Haq are the people Evan is protecting Iraqis from. Though they claim to be doing the will of God with their hateful deeds, they have nothing to do with real Islam, just like Pat Robertson has nothing to do with real Christianity. Both wear religion as a mask to dupe the gullible into gratifying their own egos and greed, not doing God's will.

This type of religious fanatic is and has always been one of humanity's greatest afflictions. So read Payame Haq and check out his website (address at the bottom of the page).

"Payame Haq said...

The Power of Allah (Jallejallalahu) stops the people who are selfish and try to stand against soldiers of Islam.

Islam is the only way of prosperity. It is our responsibility to invite every one towards Tanweer (brightness) and immortality, and to stop those who are led astray and going towards the darkness.

Allah (Jallejallalahu) is the only one who controls the world, who controls our day and night and can stop anything at all.

Allah (Jallejallalahu) is the only one who controls the essence of each breath we take.

You are born from a Muslim father and mother (Alhamdullellah). It is your religious responsibility to expand Islam by supporting the real forces of Islam.

Do not stand against Islam with Writing and encouraging the KOFARS against ISLAM in your Sites, and come to the right way.

Brighten your mind and fresh your spirit by referring to the Holy Ayat of Qurranel Hakim below;

بسم الله الرحمن الرحیم.

آلله لا یهدی القوم الکفرین. یا ایها الذین ءامنو اما لکم اذا قیل لکم انفروا فی سبیل الله اثا قلتم الی الارض ارضیتم بالحیوه الدنیا من الاخره فما متع الحیوه الدنیا فی الاخر الا قلیل. الا تنفرو ایعذبکم عذاباً الیما و یستبدل قوماً غیرکم ولا تضروه شیاً والله علی کل شی قدیر. ( آیه 39 سوره توبه)

صدق الله العظیم.

Otherwise Allah will soon punish you!!!

Always Remember in ISLAM it is never too late to come back towards the reality of ISLAM and its TANWEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Almujahid.mujahid@googlemail.com

f_tanweer@yahoo.com

www.tanweer.blogfa.com

August 10, 2007 5:59 AM

In US for leave

2007-08-06T07:57:00.000-04:00

We heard from Beth yesterday that Evan was waiting in Kuwait for a plane to Dallas. He has 18 days leave and plans to spend it at their house in Ft. Hood, just chilling out. At this point his deployment is due to end in December. So, this is a nice break before the homestretch.

Afghan Free Speech in Jeopardy; Journalists Threatened and Murdered

2007-08-01T22:11:00.000-04:00

Zakia Zaki a female radio journalist killed in June 06 2007 in Parwan Province ( photo from www.dawn.com)

After a lapse of two years, I have been corresponding with Amin Wahidi, a young journalist/filmmaker/activist colleague in Kabul. Although not covered much in the U.S. media, there has been a frightening pattern of intimidation, arrest, beatings and even murder of young Afghan journalists. Some claim the U.S.-supported Karzai government is doing nothing to stop it, and it is emblematic of the chaos and increasing control over Afghanistan by fundamentalist gangs supported by outsiders.

Read Amin Wahidi's sad and frightening description of life for those trying to build democracy, peace and justice in a country where we have spent billions of dollars and shed the blood of hundreds of brave Americans.

The blog address is aminwahidi.blogspot.com

Example of relations between Iraqis and US patrols

2007-07-24T08:30:00.000-04:00

Beth sent this short exchange along, when she and Even found eachother on-line the other day. It speaks volumes.

EVAN: we arrested some kidnappers/hitmen/assasin types the other day, they had come up from baghdad. they might have been after some our iraqi buddies, or just looking to make some money with kidnapping, dunno, other than that its been pretty quiet really

BETH: how did you find the kidnappers?

EVAN: one of the locals told us about some suspicious people driving around in a new car

BETH: are new cars not very common?

EVAN: not out here, its really rural - mostly decent, but well-used toyotas and chinese knock-offs of toyotas

BETH: toyotas have knockoffs?

EVAN: oh yeah (our interpreter): "japanese cars very nice, very expensive though" and those (morons) were driving around a mercedes

Not much news from Iraq

2007-07-14T12:59:00.000-04:00

We were away for a short holiday in the mountains last week when we missed Evan's call home. At least he called, so we know things were OK last week. He may be back at his post or still in Baghdad. It's tough getting calls out, but he's supposed to be getting a laptop which should make emails and maybe Skype video calls a possibility.

One little nugget passed on through Beth when he was in the Green Zone a couple weeks ago. He was especially taken with a sign by one of Saddam's palace pools: "No Drinking While Armed." Would have been a good souvenir, but he passed.

Good news source about Iraq

2007-07-03T09:42:00.000-04:00

If you're dissatisfied by the cursory view of Iraq offered by the mainstream US news media, check out this site. You'll be amazed by what you've been missing:

http://www.iraqslogger.com/index.php

In the "Green Zone"

2007-07-03T07:48:00.000-04:00

Evan was unexpectedly whisked by Blackhawk helicopter from his rural digs to busy downtown Baghdad-- the green zone. The ride, at 500 ft., was spectacular, and he was especially impressed with the aerial view of Saddam's notorious crossed swords monument. He sent an email from an Internet cafe "set up in an old palace. It's a mind-blowing building. Huge vaulted ceilings, intricate stone carvings and chandeliers everywhere." Ever the curious tourist, he hopes to visit the crossed swords monument and take a few souvenir snapshots. Maybe he'll buy me a T-shirt.

iPhones vs. IEDs

2007-06-29T09:50:00.000-04:00

Evan tells us that sometimes he walks on patrol and sometimes rides in a HUMVEE (one of the newer armored ones-- thank-you). I thought walking would be pretty dangerous.

But an article in yesterday morning's paper noted that soldiers patrolling the streets in Iraq can be more comfortable with walking than riding in a vehicle. It seems the gangs are burying newer, deadlier IEDs and mines deeper under the streets. They 're harder to detonate so that only a heavy vehicle will set them off. An expensive bomb would be wasted if it only got a foot soldier instead of a million$ armored vehicle. And so they walk in the open for safety.

With all the hi-tech excitement about the new iPhone coming out today, I'm wondering why our great technological skills aren't mustered to protect our troops better. Maybe the Pentagon should give Apple a ring.

Leave! and car trouble on the streets of Iraq

2007-06-29T09:48:00.000-04:00

Another call from Evan to Beth. She relays he’s doing fine. Still patrolling streets near Baghdad.

The interesting news was that he was notified he would be granted leave soon. That’s two weeks back home in the U.S. As usual for the Army, they don’t give an exact time—it could be another 6-8 weeks. But it’s something to look forward to. I remember his leave from Afghanistan, and it was a very happy time.

He mentioned he spends a lot of time taking vehicles to the motor pool for repair. The streets are rough, and Humvees are surprisingly susceptible to problems. Power steering hoses pop, and you lose control—not good.

The engine’s moving parts are connected by one long serpentine belt. If it breaks—which is common, they’re completely out of commission. It must be a pretty anxious moment to break down on an Iraqi street. I read a lot in the press how much of the army’s equipment has broken down, so I’m not surprised.

The Humvee was designed during the Cold War to cruise the cool or snow-bound paved highways of Central Europe, not the pock-marked 120 degree gravel paths of the Iraqi desert. The words of Captain Donald Rumsfeld, ring in my ears, when complained to by a soldier that the gear was inadequate, if not downright unsafe for the job: “Sometimes you have to fight a war with what you have, not what you want.” Same goes for leadership, I suppose.

How can you have 2 addresses in Iraq?

2007-06-23T08:19:00.000-04:00

Heard from Evan yesterday via Beth. He sounds fine, but very busy. He's not involved in the actions you're reading about near Baquba in Diyala. His platoon continues its work patrolling a particular neighborhood, trying to keep the people safe there by disrupting the activities of the violent gangs. Much of this is establishing a visible, positive presence, but frequently it is acting on tips from locals about strangers in the neighborhood who may be up to no good.

One culture-bending experience last week involved a search for a particular suspect. Evan's platoon approached someone on the street and asked (through their interpreter) if this fellow lived nearby, and what was his address. The man gave an address and said he was a good person. They spoke a bit more, and then asked again to confirm the address. The man gave a different address, a few blocks away.

Ah ha, they thought, this guy's story is changing. Lying maybe? They asked him, "how can he have two addresses?" "Oh, he has two wives," the man answered.

No father's day call

2007-06-18T22:54:00.000-04:00

Bethany heard from Evan twice last week, Wed. and Fri. which is good. No call on father's day. But then again, with over 150,000 military in Iraq who are fathers or have one they might call, it's hard to imagine the phone system could handle more than a half-second call from each person. We heard from one friend who did get a call. It lasted 30 seconds, and all they could hear from Iraq was shouting in the background of "hurry up, get off the phone!"

The gummy bear brick

2007-06-11T09:04:00.001-04:00

Another quick story from yesterday's phone call. Evan's platoon received a 4x4 ft. box of little gifts and candy from the U.S. to give to Iraqi children. After being shipped through the 115 degree heat, the candy bars had become little packets of syrup. A large bag of gummy bears had morphed into a large single brick-- a gummy brick. But there were lots of little toys which went over well.

When sending anything to Iraq it's good to remember the heat factor. I suggest the driveway test. If it won't survive a sunny summer day on your driveway, don't send it. I'll try biscotti for his gourmet coffee. Hopefully it doesn't arrive as biscotti powder.

Latest

2007-06-07T10:37:00.003-04:00

Evan called Beth yesterday to say he's OK, but it's tough. He's in a very active area of Iraq, and if you follow the news, things are not calming down.

He's regularly receiving books and letters from home, which are great distractions. A highlight was his receipt of freshly ground coffee from Summit. He immediately brewed a pot and relayed it was great.

There's a link to the right with Evan's wish list for items from Amazon.com-- all books and music. If you know someone who wants to support the troops, here's a good way:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/wishlist/2R25PP1YMMK3S/ref=wl_web/

Why Did Evan Join the Army?

2007-06-07T08:19:00.002-04:00

People ask why, of all people, did my son join the Army. After all, he came from an educated, white, middle-class family and grew up in a quiet well-to-do college town where all the kids are above average, go to good colleges and get good jobs. Thousands of troops were dying in Iraq and Afghanistan—why would he want to get involved in that? Did his family—a notorious nest of liberals-- encourage or discourage him?

I don’t have the definitive answer, but the short one is that Evan really, and I mean, really cares about helping and protecting people, and does not do it half-way. He was in the safety patrol in elementary school. At age 15 he was a lifeguard certified in CPR and First Aid. He can’t pass a blood drive without rolling up a sleeve. He helped lead fasts for the hungry in high school. He played a rough defense on high school soccer and lacrosse teams. He was (and is) an avid student of world politics, diplomacy, and history. He loved team work in school, at play, summer camp, and church youth groups. He never owned a gun, but loved shooting off fireworks-- a weakness picked up from his dad.

You’ll find a lot of people like this in the military. They are not the stereo-typed jar heads some expect. They are people who are driven, or “called” to put themselves in harm’s way to protect others. They are also police officers, firefighters and rescue workers of all sorts. They are the ones you see rushing around car wrecks, like their own lives depended on saving total strangers.

As a parent, can one argue with that? Would one dare to say—“let someone else’s child do it?”

Sometimes, no matter how much we want to and try to avoid it, we need protection from ignorant, wrong-headed, fanatic, abusive, maniacal gangs in the world. When I see people confronted by those gangs; in Darfur, Bosnia, Baghdad, Kandahar, Oklahoma City, New Orleans, and even Washington, D.C., I’m given hope, and am proud beyond words that there are people like my son, ready and eager to jump out and face them down.

Reading List about Iraq and Afghanistan

2007-06-06T07:50:00.000-04:00

At one of the first dinners I had when I was in Afghanistan, with a group of Malaysians, Pakistani, East Indian, Afghans, Brits, Germans and Australians, the talk turned to politics. Someone began quoting negative statistics about the U.S. Offended, I asked where he got this ridiculous information. He replied, "The 9/11 Report, you've read it haven't you?" I said, well, no, and I couldn't think of anyone else I knew who had.

Most of this group had read it, and were astounded."You mean the most important political event in US and world history of the past 50 years and you haven't read about it?"I felt like the really dumb American so much of the world has grown to mistrust-- and vowed to get educated.

To understand American actions and policies in the Middle East and Central Asia, you have to go beyond the thin surface sensationalism of cable news, daily newspapers and weekly magazines. There are many well-researched books that detail the U.S. involvement in the "global war against terrorism."

I've picked a few that provide interesting perspectives on the politics that sent us into Iraq in Afghanistan. They are very readable. The list is to the right, and is in a somewhat historical chronological order. Each builds on the next, so the progression of how we got here and what the real threats are becomes clearer and clearer.

I'll add to this list and include a group of excellent documentaries and movies, later. We are heading deeper into a quagmire with potentially terrible consequences. Only an informed American public will make a difference.

Mail to Iraq is fast!

2007-05-31T22:20:00.000-04:00

News from Beth received early today...

Evan called this morning. He sounded more upbeat, but tired. He received the first shipment of books I sent him from Amazon, and was really happy about it. One of them was written by the founder of the Lonely Planet books and is about traveling to all of the countries known as the "axis of evil." (Iran, Albania, Libya, North Korea, etc). He was really excited about that one. Mail to Iraq doesn't take nearly as long as mail to Afghanistan did. It took at least two weeks, (sometimes three), for packages to reach Evan in Afghanistan, but now they take just one week, or even less. He should be getting the Summit coffee sent to him last Friday, very soon.

Memorial Day

2007-05-28T16:14:00.000-04:00

Evan got a quick call out to Bethany yesterday morning. No news, except that he's doing OK, and that his schedule will be extra full for the next two weeks, so don't expect to hear much from him. It's always good to get that kind of warning. Every day you wonder why there was no call, and after a week, it starts to get nerve-wracking. Everyone with a kid in college feels the same way, but when you hear on the news that 4 American soldiers were killed in Iraq yesterday, it especially ratchets up the fears.

I've met some families with loved ones in Iraq who refuse to read, listen or watch anything in the news. I understand completely.

The blue star banner above notes that someone in your immediate family is deployed in a war zone; you'll occasionally see them in front windows or on car bumbers; during WWII, nearly every house on every block had one. In the "war on terrorism," most people do not even know what it stands for.

Thanks to Davidson's Summit Coffee Shop

2007-05-26T08:59:00.000-04:00

Bethany sent an email today with another detail from Evan. There’s an old Mr. Coffee in his barracks room. Evan’s a primo barista who cut his chops at the Summit when in high school—so he’s, well… a bit of a coffee snob. But there’s no good coffee on his base and no filters for the maker.

He asked me to run down to Summit, pick up some fresh ground and mail it to him—with a stack of filters (unbleached only, please). To get it out today, I walked to the Summit and asked the barista for a bag. Faced with a hundred kinds of beans, I said Evan worked there in HS, so what would they recommend for a fellow barista; he’d been in Iraq for a few weeks and really missing good coffee. We picked out a few bags, and with a big smile, they said it was on the house. “And tell him whenever he needs more fuel, we’ll take care of him.”

That was really nice, and the sentiment a really big deal for us. I told Beth, and she relayed the story back to Evan later, when he got one more call out. He said “Cool, I’ll get a picture of me and my bags of Summit in Iraq and send it to them.”

Bored in Iraq?

2007-05-24T09:01:00.000-04:00

Bethany heard from Evan twice today. Not much news. He is actually bored this week, and not as satisfied with the work patrolling the streets of Iraq.

When in Afghanistan, he worked in landmine and IED removal, mostly on large, rural road construction projects. It was usually a good experience. At the end of the day he could look back and say—“yep, opened two miles of road today, found and blew up a couple landmines, nobody got hurt, that’s good.”

After a few months, when sections of the road opened, he watched what was once a barely navigable path now carry trucks full of wheelbarrows, food or people across the countryside. Working in the desert, while very rough, provided wide-open views and generally peaceful days.

Iraq, so far, has been a crowded urban experience. Sometimes he’ll just sit in his gear all night on standby with his squad, in case they are needed for an emergency mission. But the personal active sense of "mission accomplished" is not the way it was in Afghanistan.

Arrival in Baghdad

2007-05-20T22:00:00.000-04:00

Evan spent a week in Kuwait waiting for a plane ride to Baghdad. He hung around the barracks, did some field training, and adjusted to the 100 degree+ heat. He had no idea when he would arrive in Baghdad, and felt it could be several weeks. He was able to talk for about 45 minutes. The Kuwait base was large and comfortable in contrast to the isolated sandy tents where he had spent so many days in Afghanistan

He sounded chipper and healthy.

The next day we got an email from Bethany saying he'd landed in Baghdad and would try to get in touch as soon as things settled down. He was busy with stuff like, finding a bunk, the chow hall, and those other details. It would probably be a while before he went out on missions because much of his unit was out on leave for a few days.

One of the first missions

2007-05-20T21:48:00.001-04:00

Evan's work is similar to a police officer's patrol. Sometimes he stands by for an emergency response-- Humvees gassed up, and loaded in case another patrol calls in for assistance. Sometimes they are assigned a specific mission, for example, checking out a tip that a cache of weapons might be stored in a particular building. Other times he will just ride or walk through neighborhoods.

Through a translator they speak to local residents about problems or fears they may be experiencing, and ask how to help. In one of his first missions, a family invited his patrol into their home for a cup of tea. They sat on the floor and drank a glass of strong, sweet black tea. The family said they appreciated the patrols, because they feared violence in the street from outsiders, and the soldiers patrols definitely made them feel safer. They had nothing specific to report or any immediate problems. They just wanted to express gratitude and hospitality.

I thought this was interesting, because one picture we get here is that every Iraqi is afraid to speak with the troops because they might be seen as "collaborators." But this family actually invited a whole group of soldiers into their home. I'm sure it wasn't missed by the neighbors. Something to think about.

Mission and a child

2007-05-20T20:30:00.000-04:00

Message from Evan's wife, Bethany around 5/14...

I spoke to Evan on the phone for over an hour this morning. It had been several days since our last real conversation. The last time he called I couldn't understand anything he said because of the poor connection so I talked the entire time. It was the definition of a one-sided conversation.

He told me a story that I have decided to post here so that all of you can know how good and wonderful he is.

Evan's squad was on a mission to check out a house somewhere in Iraq. I don't know where and wouldn't mention it, even if I did. Evan and a buddy went around to the back of the house to make sure no one escaped. Before the family within knew what was going on a little boy slipped out the back door, probably to use the outhouse. As soon as the child saw Evan he burst into tears. He was very small - probably no more than three years old. Evan scooped him up as he ran, held him and tried to comfort him. It didn't work; Evan was wearing all of his gear, including his night-vision goggles and probably looked a little like the Terminator, but he still tried to make the boy feel better. After the action, he set him back inside the house. I think this was very sweet and it was more than Evan had to do.

Evan downplayed this story. He said "I just didn't want anyone to get surprised by him and make a stupid mistake, AND I didn't want him to get scared and run away and have his family wonder where he was. It wasn't a big deal, but you can post it if you want."

What to do about Iraq?

2007-05-20T08:41:00.000-04:00

A friend from Afghanistan emailed me today asking if I felt the troops should leave Iraq immediately. I have a split opinion. If they leave immediately, there would be a genocidal bloodbath where millions would be killed. Afghanistan after the Soviet departure is a good lesson there—or maybe the major Iraqi factions could unite and oust all the trouble makers and criminals on their own. On the other hand, if the soldiers stay long enough in Iraq, some stability could be attained, though many thousands will be killed over several years by insurgents and those who profit from political instability—or maybe we’ll be stuck in a quagmire where 1,000 Americans will be killed each year on an impossible mission.

Above all, I feel the adventures in Afghanistan and Iraq have been terribly mis-managed. I can provide a reading list of well-researched books that support this point of view. My experience in Afghanistan clarified it. Kabul lacked so many basic services: sewerage, electricity, phone lines, trash collection, basic road repair, honest police and government. All these were simple things, but even after 4 years of international presence, there wasn’t even trash collection. If you can’t take care of the basic needs of the people, you invite insurgency. That’s how the Taliban came to power.

If the U.S. really wants to “win” the war against “terrorists” it needs to make a national commitment on the level of WWII, but not building HUMVEES and bombers. We need to build transit busses, hospital operating rooms, university libraries, fair judicial systems, street lights, water treatment plants, and well-paid and trained police forces. Our soldiers play a vital transition role to fight the gangs, but it is grossly unfair for them to shoulder the main burden of putting Iraq and Afghanistan together. Even 100,000 more soldiers cannot make peace in Iraq, as long as we fail the people’s basic needs there.

A Son Goes to War

2007-04-30T08:38:00.000-04:00

My 22 year old son, joined the Army Reserve two years ago. He had hoped to finish college, spending a weekend a month in uniform, but would have no problem if called up in a national emergency. That was when Americans thought Iraq and Afghanistan would settle down within months, not years. Last year, rumors of deployment spread through his Asheville-based engineering unit, until it became certain that in April they would go to Afghanistan for up to a year and a half.

It is rare for an American these days to grasp the reality of a child preparing for war. My son, who wants to be a librarian, completed an eight week army training course last summer. As a combat engineer he learned about de-mining operations, shooting an M-16, surviving gas attacks and hand-to-hand combat. He was actually awarded a couple of medals and got a promotion. Over the next months, my wife and I became used to the shocked looks from friends when we answered “What’s you son up to?” with “Well…. he’s going to Afghanistan for a year to dig up land mines.”

In the three months leading to his actual departure, he spent increasing amounts of time with military duties and training. There were endless shots, mounds of paper work (including his will), and day-long trips to military bases to collect gas masks, desert uniforms, radios, etc.

Then one sunny February day we drove up to Asheville for a farewell party at the armory. It wasn’t the final departure. His unit was going to Ft. Bragg for two months of intense training (mostly in urban combat). We could visit occasional weekends, talk on the phone, and send care packages, kind of like summer camp ten years earlier. There was always the feeling that at the last minute peace would be declared and the troops would return to their families.

But in April, the big departure day came, when the soldiers would fly from Ft. Bragg to Kabul. Families were allowed to spend the last two days on base, mingling with the troops, helping with last-minute packing, buying batteries for CD players and Moon Pies for the long trip. It was a picnic atmosphere. We met our son’s buddies, and everyone pledged they would get home safe and sound. It was more like a departure for a field trip to the beach. But as the minutes ticked by, wives cuddled closer to their battle-dressed husbands. Eyes filled with tears and lips tightened and trembled while oblivious knots of kids played tag and munched candy bars.

A loud sergeant shouted it was time to go, and the crowd separated like oil and water as soldiers flowed into a mass of desert camo, M16s slung over their shoulders. Emotional shock waves rippled through the families. This was the real good-bye. My son gave his new wife a last hug. The knots of kids clung to their daddys and cried: “Daddy, I’m going too.” “Daddy don’t go.” “No daddy, stay here.”

A line of 400 soldiers snaked out the terminal door, across the tarmac, and into a lone white airliner. Many families left, knowing the actual departure would be too much, but we stayed. Too quickly the last soldier entered the plane, and then they were gone. No music, no flag waving, but everyone waved slowly, in a silent collective prayer, hoping the last glimpse of home would be of loved ones wishing farewell. The giant airliner rushed up the runway, thundered over our heads, and banked gracefully east. Its pure, white-winged body against the blue Carolina sky reminded me of an angel.

The 3 hour ride home was a numb blur. After an hour we said they must be over New York. An hour later, we agreed they were crossing into Canada. Time has been measured like that ever since. We changed a kitchen clock to Afghanistan time, and taped a blue star in the front window to remember the other time and the other place, and count every day as a victory.

Day 5 in Kabul

2007-04-29T21:15:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

I just spent my fifth day in Kabul, Afghanistan. Sights and events are becoming more familiar. I finally met some other Americans and found a grocery with familiar products, so I am now more assured that I wasn’t plucked up by an alien space ship and dropped into a strange parallel universe.

The first views of Kabul as you approach by airplane are incredibly forbidding mountain ranges, wave after wave of 12,000 ft.+ snow-covered peaks and barren desert valleys. The plane, (a sketchy c. 1970 Boeing 727) weaves through a last few peaks and quickly drops onto a runway marked by wrecked skeletons of bombed out planes and a few mine removal teams. A short walk down the outside roll-up staircase, takes you into the terminal. Kabul has a population of about 1.5 million. The airport has one baggage claim carousel. That’s a small airport.

You exit through the waiting room with beautifully detailed wood paneled walls and ceiling that if restored could be one of the most stunning airport lobbies in the world. A crowd of people 5-6 deep hangs outside the gates. No parking garages. No drive up. No snack bar. You carry your bags 50 yards to the gate, hoping your driver will spot you.

A dozen guards anxiously grip their AK47 automatic rifles. This will become a familiar sight. The AK47 is the Afghanistan billy club, and quickly becomes a comforting object, though always still slightly shocking. Many Afghans have body guards who carry AKs so you see them a lot. Ariana TV, where I work, has several armed guards who come and go.

My favorite is General Nabi (Afghan Army retired), who watches after the CEO, an Afghan-American, visiting this week. The General is ultimate cool. A relaxed, stocky 30-something guy with a blood-orange goatee and mop top of curly hair, he sports a custom bullet-proof vest with 20 pockets holding who knows what. A cell phone headset hangs from one ear. With a 9mm pistol strapped to his right leg, he carries his AK with the aplomb of a Hilton Head Island tennis player toting their racket.

He has the friendliest, impish smile, a Bill Clinton handshake, and always stumbles through a few kind English words. In 2001 General Nabi led a battalion of Northern Alliance troops into Mazar-i-Sharif, where they smashed the Taliban. If I’m ever faced with a violent event, I want to be around General Nabi.

On the subject of violence. Kabul seems to be surprisingly a very calm, very friendly place. Foreigners are vulnerable, because they are visible, which is the reason for the guards, who are superb deterrents. But on the other hand the person on the street is happy to have foreigners here (especially Americans, it seems). All guests are honored, and they go out of their way to smile, show me something, include me, and offer assistance.

There has never been a violent event in the company in the four years of its existence. Though there was one murder three days ago, it was a huge exception; the first in a year or so, and a very shoddy deed by a mad man. A native pointed out that in Sao Paulo, Brazil, there are at least 40 murders a night, in Washington, D.C. 3-4 murders a night. The one a year in Kabul makes international headlines for days. Go figure.

Though not reported in the news in the US, the Afghans hate the criminals, they love the coalition forces for freeing them from the Russians and then the Taliban, and are constantly cooperating with the police, informing on gang activity, threats, etc. and with very few exceptions, it’s working. Kabul appears safe, if not safer than any city in the world of its size, because of the peaceful attitudes of its citizens.

The Russians, the Afghan civil war and the Taliban were horribly, viciously cruel to the people here, and the Americans and coalition allies have provided them with peace and safety unknown for a generation. The Russians, warlords and Taliban destroyed the country’s infrastructure for thirty years; water, electricity, roads, libraries, schools, hospitals, theaters, nearly everything of value. They murdered one or more members of nearly every single Afghan family. The scars run very, very, very deep here. They are on every street corner.

The Afghans lived through a debasing horror most Americans simply cannot grasp. And so the Afghans are deeply and humbly and optimistically grateful. Don’t be swayed by the scare stories in the media. The last thing the mass media wants to report is a nice quiet night in Kabul, which the vast, vast majority are.

The real story here is how the poor cope with their destroyed society and work with almost nothing to re-build lives, to recover from three lost decades and a million and a half loved ones. It will take much, much more than the occasional murder to slow them down. And if the US really wants to bring peace, freedom and justice to these countries, it cannot bolt and run at the first gunshot on the other side of town. I will not allow myself to feel that fear. If I did, I would be too deeply ashamed. The people I have met here have endured so much. The least I can do is stay and help. They have shown so much hope, faith, respect, warmth, welcome and joy to me.

Streets of Kabul

2007-04-28T07:51:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

Exiting the Airport brings you into a wide boulevard. And scenes of vast destruction. The scars of 30 years of war and tyrants are everywhere. Piles of barely identifiable rubble are interspersed with buildings pockmarked with hundreds of bullet and shrapnel hits. Some 4-5 story buildings are partially collapsed on one end, with fronts and backs blown out. 1,000 lb. chunks of concrete dangle over the sidewalk, attached only by a piece of re-bar—and there’s no yellow caution ribbon (imagine that).

Other buildings are completely collapsed, the floors pancaked on top of one another. Some larger buildings are not terribly damaged, but all the windows are blown out and a fence surrounds them. You wonder if they are due for rebuilding or demolition.

The streets. The thing about the streets and sidewalks here are that they look like they were once comfortable and elegant. Most are wide and were once well paved. There are sensible traffic circles and definitely identifiable districts of nice-looking4-5 story buildings 50-100 years old. Now, though, most of the grand boulevards are an obstacle course of potholes. Many are 1-2 feet wide and 3-6 inches deep. If you drive through them at more than 5 mph, you’ll tear off a wheel and give every passenger a concussion.

So driving here is like a bumper car ride slalom course, with a little grand prix video game mixed in. Drivers swerve at top speed left and right to avoid the pot holes. The main boulevard into downtown from where I work is maybe 6 lanes wide. There are no lane markings, and the goal of drivers in both directions is avoiding potholes. We’ll frequently swerve 2 lanes into opposing traffic to avoid a series of nasty potholes on our side. I now know the definition of a “hair-raising ride”. I sit in the backseat, the only one wearing a seatbelt, screaming “how could you do that?” Amazingly, I have not seen a single accident. We kissed bumpers with another car once in traffic, but given the condition of most Kabuli cars, if nothing falls off in a crash, then no harm done. Think bumper cars at an amusement park—or NASCAR unplugged.

I haven’t seen a single road sign, in Kabul, not one traffic light, one street light (operating), nor one stripe on a road. I was told they were all destroyed in the wars to confuse invaders. Besides the wide boulevard, the city is a warren of small roads and neighborhoods that look nearly the same. A river and a few canals slash through the city, adding unexpected barricades and detours. I don’t know how anyone finds their way around. If I drove a car here, I’d be lost for years.

There are many traffic circles, and some even have policemen sitting inside little sheds in the middle. They don’t appear to be too interested in directing traffic. A few times when traffic became a hopeless snarl they would wade out into the sea of cars with a little paddle like sign that said stop. It had a small effect on the half dozen cars in his immediate vicinity, but mostly no one else knew he was there. At one circle, a traffic cop shouted directions over a loudspeaker from his car. Innovative and unique, but doubtful anyone paid much attention.

In my neighborhood where there was a lot of fighting during the Afghan Civil war in the 1990s, so the sidewalks are torn up into large concrete chunks, and most people walk in the streets. On the side streets, speed is kept down by significant speed bumps at each intersection. They must have been built as a defensive measure to discourage drive by shootings. They’d never get past the intersection without coming to a full halt. The speed bumps are just piles of rubble, and in some places they have worn away to reveal a 3-4 deep by 12’ wide trench, a concave speed bump that is just as effective in slowing or stopping cars.

Despite all the craziness, I never see road rage. Horns honk constantly, but they are politely melodic horns that play a little ditty, not loud and pushy like American cars’ horns.

People constantly cut each other off, but it’s all part of the game, like a chess game. Stoic drivers all, they know that the aim is to get in front of the person who is in front of you. And after a week of hundreds of what Americans would call close calls, no car I’ve been in has been hit, or hit another (well, one little tap at a stop), and I’ve never even seen a wreck—though I hear there are terrible ones all the time.

On some street corners, there are piles of trash 4-5 feet high in a 20’ circle. Sometimes a herd of goats browses on top looking for something to eat. Every couple of days a dump truck is there and a handful of guys shovel the trash for a couple of hours. This is the trash disposal system for this neighborhood. I’m told that after the US led invasion trash littered the streets everywhere for months. This is a huge improvement.

There is remarkably little trash blowing in the streets or piled other than these apparently designated spots. I’ve seen worse on I-77. Among the great needs here are dumpsters to contain the trash and a fleet of trucks to empty them. The health risks are huge, especially considering the dry dusty winds that pick up all sorts of junk and blow it everywhere. The US should melt down all its SUVs and send the steel to Afghanistan where they could mold it into dumpsters. That would be one of the most effective things we could do to “fight terrorism.”

America 's Debt to Afghanistan

2007-04-27T10:40:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

Just when I thought it can’t get any wilder, today I took a trip into one of the poorest sections of Kabul, a neighborhood of families from the Northern Afghanistan Panjir Valley. I was invited by my assistant, Ayoob, to attend a lunch celebrating a cousin’s engagement. He thought I would be interested in the local ceremony. Since it was Friday, the Muslim day off, the office was closed and of course I wanted to see more of the city and its people. We took off on one of the hair-raising car rides across town. I shot some video from the front passenger seat that captured the ride pretty well.

We ended up at a dead end street that climbed one of the several mountains that thrust maybe 1,500 feet up from the valley that comprises greater Kabul and divide the city into 2-3 sections. The paved road became gravel, then two hard mud ruts as we drove up several hundred feet then stopped in front of a tiny shack of a store. A half-dozen kids watched, fascinated with us while Ayoob spoke with a group of young men.

The store, which had a few packs of cookies, the ubiquitous 2 litre Pepsi and other colorful soft drink bottles, some neatly displayed plates of lentils, rice and greens, and a few household items like bleach, soap and tissues. The owner was proud to have me take pictures. The homes were cockeyed mud shacks of among the worst you could imagine. A spigot ran with water and kids played in it. The sum total of visible recreation. No soccer fields, no basketball hoops, swings.

It was on the edge of a sprawling cemetery with headstones of all shapes, from finely carved to a raw piece of field stone. There were thousands. Hardly a tree, or patch of green; just piles of dry dusty rocks with dusty paths threading between them. Green flags flew above some of the graves. Poorer ones had just a slash of green paint, which I learned are memorials to fallen soldiers of the wars- martyr’s graves which you see everywhere.

Ayoob said we had to walk from there to his cousins’ house. We struck off through the cemetery. A group of kids tagged, along, mostly boys, but some jaunty girls too, wanting nothing more than to stare, be smiled at and have their picture taken. They were quiet and polite. We climbed up a path into a group of houses that blended together in a multi-story jumble. Quite steep and rutted and impassable except by foot. Knots of tough-looking characters hid from the bright sun on the corners and in doorways; not menacing, just curious.

This was becoming the classic third-world back alley slum, I’d see in news stories about the poor and starving of Africa and India, and I was a bit concerned how far in we would hike and how bad it would get. A small stream of raw sewage ran down a narrow trench in the middle of the path, fed by pipes from each house. It was lined with old plastic bags and it was as difficult to maneuver, like an uphill mountain path, though houses clung to both sides.

Even tinier alleys zipped off and around the “sewer” path. At times we had to jump from rock to rock to avoid the sewer. The smell was pure outhouse. Yes, it had become a model of the kind of 3^rd world poverty you see in documentaries made only by people braver than me—or so I thought. But here I was right in the middle, surrounded by gaggles of kids and stared at by strange, shadowy figures in doorways. I trusted that Ayoob, our driver and another of his friends weren’t leading me into some sort of ambush. My video camera rolled continually.

Finally after a couple of breaks to catch our breaths from the up hill climb, Ayoob motioned me into a patio-like area saying it was his cousin’s house. The house was mud and straw, brown—we had stepped though a time warp of 2,000 years. But it was swept clean and we walked through a dark doorway. Entering a side room was a pleasant shock. A stunning, spotless red Persian carpet was on the floor. The walls were a soft, freshly painted ochre, and comfortable red cushions hugged the wall. The ceiling had visible round wooden beams, again a soft ochre color. It was actually a design that you might pay thousands of dollars to create in the West.

Coming in from the hot sun, the thick stone/mud walls made it cool. We were much higher than the Kabul dust bowl, so the air was lovely. A large window looked down over the cemetery and beyond. Ayoob pointed to an Afghan flag about 2 km distant. It was home of Hamid Karzai, Afghanistan’s president. After the walk, it was one of the most inviting rooms I’d ever seen, and an absolute contrast to the outside in its ordered serenity. At one end was a cabinet with glass and china dishes, a few photos and a teapot.

One gentleman already seated on the floor. He was a relative, but also introduced by Ayoob as a former teacher and Dean of the Faculty at Kabul University. Ayoob warned me that professors and teachers are among the poorest Afghans, but this was still a surprise.

We had a long talk, which I video taped, about his experiences during the Taliban reign of terror, when he ran a secret school. The school room where he taught a handful of neighborhood girls from the neighborhood to read and do math was behind a hidden door in this house. The Taliban had come regularly and tried to arrest him, but could never find any evidence that he actually had a school.

He told me this slum was populated by people from the Panshir Valley up north. They are a very proud, independent people. When the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in the 1970s, most of the families living here (maybe 500-600) had been living temporarily in Kabul, working, attending the University, or just visiting on business. The Soviets closed all the roads into the Panshir, stranding these people in Kabul. They had no permanent homes, so they built shacks in this difficult to reach area of the city. They were against the law to build, but basically out of reach of the Soviets. Their lives became a sad, concentration camp of an existence with no water, sewerage or electricity.

Today, it continues to be a terrible slum. There are no medical facilities or stores. Water and everything else has to be carried up the steep, rocky paths. There is very little fuel to cook with. There are no schools or transportation. Many of the people are hungry. Most workers sell things on the street making a few cents a day for the barest amount of food and clothing. One blessing is municipal electricity, but it fluctuates and is only on for a few hours a day at best.

The people from the Panjir Valley are the people of the mujahadeen; the Northern Alliance which helped the US defeat the Taliban. They were also the people armed by the US to defeat the Soviets who overthrew Afghanistan’s open and flourishing society in the early 1970s. Later they fought the fanatic warlords in Afghanistan’s civil war. They fought the Taliban for years before 9/11, with no help from the US or Europe. They were the forgotten people who harried the Soviets, and were a great influence on the breakup of the Soviet Union and the end of the cold war.

In that alone the U.S. and the world owes them a great debt.

The Panshiri then fought the fanatic followers of Gulbadin Hekmatyr, the bloody Afghan despot who made his home in Kabul and caused so much unrest and destruction in the civil war that followed the Soviet departure. With the end of the cold war, sadly, the U.S. neglected their mujahadeen friends, dropped their support, drastically weakened the Panshir and they were pused into the northern Panshir valley. This opened the door to the Taliban who put a yoke of nightmarish proportions on the Afghans. But the Panshir still kept their freedom up north and against all odds fought the Taliban as the Northern Alliance.

For years, the US provided only meager military support to the Northern Alliance. The Taliban, were locked safely away in a place few people knew how to find on a map, and the struggle against them by the Northern Alliance meant little or nothing to the US. Consistent with its historically inane foreign policy, the U.S. actually thought the bloody, draconian Talibs were good for Afghanistan. Until 9/11.

When it decided to invade Afghanistan in 2001, the US suddenly remembered its friends from 20 years earlier who helped with the Soviet collapse. If you remember, the first month of the war went very slow for the US. Critics called it a quagmire comparable to Viet Nam. No cities were conquered. The US was losing troops. Though the U.S. dropped millions of bombs on the already shattered Afghan infrastructure, they weren’t making much headway on the ground.

TheTalibs, knowing the culture and land, ran circles around the US. The Northern Alliance, still stung by the U.S.’s short memory during the Afghan civil war and subsequent Taliban takeover were a bit reticent. But when they decided to cooperate, the Taliban was beaten in a matter of weeks.

It should not be lost on any American that Afghanistan has been a comparatively peaceful place for years now. (Although due to neglecting rebuilding infrastructure, the Taliban are becoming more popular and brazen in 2007.)

It is of the utmost sadness that this community in Kabul is so destitute. I met two Northern Alliance, Mujahadeen officers. They told me they loved America, but they are poor, they had both lost their feet in a mine explosion during the Soviet war. They want to be remembered by Americans. Their children do not have a school there. There is no access for emergency vehicles. Water has to be carried from the village well, up hundreds of feet to the houses, most is carried by the young. There is no medical care. They have been shut out of Afghan government in favor of warlords who support the Taliban, even after the coalition victory.

Despite this, they were overjoyed that an American would trek up to visit their desperate village. They wanted to send a message to America through my video camera, asking them not to be forgotten. They feel a strong, soulful bond with Americans in their love of freedom and their willingness to fight for it.

They are grateful that America helped them defeat the Taliban, and want America to stay and help secure the freedom of their country. There are many enemies of Afghanistan. The Afghans have gone to great lengths to tell me that the violence this spring is not being done by native Afghans. They are orchestrated by criminal gangs of Pakistanis, Iranians, Iraqis, Arabs and others who want an unstable Afghanistan with no law and order, and jump on every opportunity to encourage the naïve and ignorant. The press here goes to great lengths to prove that the violence and destruction has no benefit or logic for Afghans. It is all from outsiders. I don’t know if that message is getting across to America.

The Afghans are willing to fight these forces, but they are certain it will not be against Americans. They only ask that Americans help their children and their war-injured, and help bring their people, who fought together with and did so much for America, to return just a little of the favor they so desperately need. I hope this message gets across to America.

They graciously invited me to share their meal and celebration, were proud to be photographed and interviewed. I thanked them for sharing the meal and the joy of their children’s engagement and walked back down the steep paths, in a daze, a parade of children following, still wanting their pictures taken. We passed a dozen children carrying water up the hill, in cast-off yellow jugs of brake fluid, side stepping the open sewers, climbing up the scattered rock steps.

And beautiful children they all were, indeed. If any one in America wants to help Afghanistan, to thank these people for saving the children of America, this is a place to start.

Life in a Kabuli guesthouse

2007-04-26T22:03:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

I thought it might be interesting to describe a day in the life here. It’s a very different life, and being the only, well not just American, but westerner I see or even speak with all day gives everything an interesting slant.

Sun rises just after 4:00 am in Kabul. For the first week I was up even earlier. A mosque around the corner and the mullah begins calling over a tinny loudspeaker around 3:30 AM. I quickly learned that using earplugs I might get another hour or so of sleep. I live in what is known in Afghanistan as a guest house. There are scores of them in Kabul, and have a long history of being a major lodging for travelers. There are only 2-3 full-service hotels in Kabul at the moment (very pricey and not worth it), and the guest houses fill the gap.

Guest houses are 2-3 story buildings in a compound with high walls topped by concertina wire. They have 5-10 comfortably sized guest rooms. Mine is about 12x14 ft. There is a wardrobe and a closet. The walls are nearly 2 ft thick masonry and stucco on both sides, but there are 2 large windows. Opening the garish red velveteen curtains provides views of the 8 ft. high walls with concertina wire crowns. But the sun shines in when I pull open the curtains-- if they don’t fall down from the tugging-- and you can see a slice of blue sky a few taller green trees and birds flitting from them. It’s like a prison, actually. You begin to appreciate the smallest things.

The bed has been very lumpy, but they put on a new three inch thick foam mattress, so it’s much improved, despite being three inches too short to fully stretch out. There’s no TV, but I do have a reading light, and I bought a tiny Chinese-made shortwave radio (a “Singbox”) that picks up the few local stations. In the right weather I can pick up the BBC. Hearing clear English is a comfort. There is a desk where I keep a 2 litre bottle of purified water and a power strip to recharge all my battery operated things: camera, computer, cell phone, video camera batteries, etc. A thin red carpet that keeps down the echos bouncing off the concrete walls. Stains cover the walls and furniture. It looks like a cheap city flop house room. Adequate, but nothing comfortable about it. Nothing at all.

The bathrooms are down the hall in one “bathroom” suite. There are 4 private bathrooms for 5-6 men. It’s an all male guest house. Each bathroom has a western sink and toilet, but the shower juts out of the wall into the middle of the room and splashes on the floor, so the whole room is the shower stall. Well, floor to ceiling is all tiled, so what the heck, but the water does splash everywhere including the toilet seat, your shaving kit on the little shelf, your dry towel hanging on the door, and your night clothes hanging on the wall. There’s plenty of hot water before 6:30 am, which is the one comfort, not the least because the dry dusty Kabul air cakes in your sinus, and the steam gives them a good cleaning. The five minutes after a shower is the best breathing of the day.

(to be continued)

Life in a Kabuli guesthouse pt. 2

2007-04-25T15:55:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

The guest house where I live in Kabul has a common room and a large screen TV with about 250 channels featuring one of the best selections anywhere of Indian movies and music videos. Afghans are mad for them. India now is the world’s largest producer of movies, but they are almost never seen in the US. After about 3 minutes of watching one, you might understand why. There is a broad cultural divide going on here. Sometimes I watch them during breakfast. They’re great wake-me-ups.

Indian music videos have two basic plots:

#1 -- White-looking Indian boy chases whiter looking Indian girl through a slightly interesting locale, which after a minute becomes pretty tiresome. It could be a zoo, a playground, a marina, a beach, a hilltop, a valley, a river bank, a boat, a garden or farm. Dancing into and out of, and always on top of a conveniently parked stylish car, at least a dozen times as part of the chase, is a critical piece of action. The girl and boy sing lines alternatively to each other while they shimmy across the setting like a pair of courting peacocks. The boy is consumed with looks of hopeless desperation, crawling on his knees, pulling his hair, beating his breast, collapsing in misery. The girl is a minkish vamp gyrating her ample hips like an out-of balance washing machine. She sports a long diaphanous scarf constantly blown by an off-screen wind machine. Sometimes their lips barely brush against each other, but just in time, she runs away to another part of the locale, only to lie seductively on a park bench, bale of hay, boat, car hood, etc. etc., until the boy catches her and moans his desolate lyrics. Oh, it also rains at least 3-4 times during a video, or they run through a fountain, or some other water attraction. Water is the magical element in the courtship of Indian videos. In a country with 115 degree summers, could you expect anything else?

#2 -- White-looking Indian boy chases whiter looking Indian girl through a an immediately tiresome interesting locale, with all the same action as #1, except this time they have 30 friends all fiercely gyrating in the background of every single scene. The Indians obviously like it, because probably 80% their movies include the exact same scenes too. Indian cinema is culture divide I can’t seem to cross, but I acknowledge their popularity with everyone in the guest house.

I am also the only westerner in the guest house and it’s a struggle to understand the pidgin English. There is a Chinese-Malaysian, a full-Malaysian, a couple Pakistani, and several recently repatriated Afghans. The population changes regularly due to people traveling around the country on Afghan Wireless business. This and 14 other guest houses are owned by Afghan Wireless to house their foreign experts. The residents are computer specialists, electrical engineers, customer service specialists, heating and cooling installers. They are all very friendly and gracious, helpful, well-educated, like to discuss politics, and always greet me by name, though I really can’t remember nor pronounce any of theirs. But my smile-filled southern Hey, good mornin'! works well enough.

Unassuming and forgiving, they mostly admire America and Americans, though mostly all they know about them is what they see in the movies an TV. However they're happy to point out how wrong-headed our current government can be. Their idea of average Americans are Tom Cruise and Paris Hilton and they're amazed that a real live American would actually be living with them. (to be continued)

Breakfast in Kabul

2007-04-24T21:56:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

Breakfast is in the guest house’s common room. It’s cooked to order, but I have to go outside the main house to the neighboring building where the kitchen and housekeepers’ rooms are. You can order anything you want, eggs any way (cooked in a half-inch of oil), or stale cornflakes, toast, etc. The cooks are very familiar with Western breakfasts. The Asians like ramen noodle soup for breakfast along with maybe a couple fried eggs and toast or a sautéed slice of corned beef from a tin can. I started with fried eggs, a little wedge of foil-wrapped processed French cheese, a glass of OJ from Turkey and a big piece of Afghan Bread. The bread, served at every meal is like a puffy chewy pizza crust baked on a brick hearth-- tasty and satisfying and made all day long at little bakeries tucked into store fronts everywhere in the city.

The Afghan diet is not big on fiber. After the first week I went to the international grocery and bought a box of Kellogs all bran cereal (made in Manchester, England) to get some fiber. Now I have a bowl of cereal with full cream milk, a hard-boiled egg, or two, and jello-like Pakistani strawberry jam.

I could order pancakes, but the crusted syrup bottle on the table looks like it’s been there for six months. The true Afghan-style breakfast is a small frying pan of potatoes, tomatoes and barely cooked eggs. It’s eaten right from the frying pan and often shared by 2-3 people, each chowing down with a large spoon or moping up with a piece of bread, until it’s wiped clean. I have a fresh orange every morning; they’re imported from Pakistan and are generally juicy and delicious. They are in season now, along with water melon, so they are always available. I’ll have 2-3 a day, as I strive for my 9 portions of fruit and fiber. I have a big bag of bubble gum I brought, which I chew to ward off homesickness once in a while. Does bubble gum count as fiber?

After ordering breakfast, I go to the common room to watch the BBC morning news, or the Indian music videos. The BBC covers pretty much the same murder and other penny dreadful stories as US news. There’s always an in-depth report about Michael Jackson, but it’s nice to see a westerner at least once a day. As the only American I sometimes feel a little sheepish when the US gets accused of something especially stupid, and you certainly get a larger picture of the animosity felt toward the US around the world when watching the BBC.

But the rule appears to be that the more educated any population is, the more they appreciate the US. My housemates may be critical, but not hateful, and are disgusted by flag burnings and rioters that burn aid organizations, etc. The sad fact is that most Americans (or westerners) in the Middle East are trying to honestly help the situation, at great personal risk and sacrifice, and the idiots who want to hurt them are a disgrace to their educated compatriots. So there is an encouraging solidarity in the guest house. Education really is the key to solving the world’s problems.

Breakfast is filling and I get up to brush my teeth, a dreaded, major undertaking. The water is unfit for drinking, so I have to tote my 1.5 liter bottle of Nestle water along with my toothbush, paste and towel into the bath. The shower has given all surfaces a good wet down, so I juggle the water bottle the toothbrush, the two pieces of its case and the tube of Crest from home (ah memories), and the caps from the toothpaste and water bottle. There is a little shelf above the sink where everything is precariously laid out. I’d have to sterilize the toothbrush if it falls, likewise the Crest or anything else. I long for just turning on the tap having a good brush, and gargling all the water I want… don’t ever take water for granted.

Getting ready for work

2007-04-23T20:19:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

Getting ready to go to work each morning, I have to pack up two valises of stuff, for my still camera, computer, cell phone, ID card, flash memory stick, glasses, notebooks, 3-4 sets of keys etc. I’ve set my pickup time by the Ariana TV driver for 7:30 AM, and he’s always on time. One of the guest house staff comes to my room and cheerfully calls “Meester Bob, car come.”

Out front, there is a small plywood shed, a guard house, that is home to 3-4 uniformed policemen who have been subcontracted from the Kabul Police to watch our guest house. They sleep and cook their meals in the shed. Each guard totes an AK-47. They are friendly, young and unassuming, jumping up and giving me a cheery hello as I walk out the gate to meet the car. If I ever take a walk down the street, one hurries up to follow me, AK at the ready. It’s kind of funny and seems more like a scene from a movie I once saw than my real life at the moment. I don’t feel any fear, but it’s not the kind of street you might like to stroll with its broken sidewalks, potholed streets and 8 ft. high protective walls.

My driver, Jawid, runs around the car to open the door, offers a slight bow and places his right hand over his heart as a gesture of honor. We shake hands, which is an important greeting, and which they appreciate from “a boss.” It’s something natural for an egalitarian American, but it is very special in Afghanistan to have a boss shake your hand. For security purposes, we always take a different route to the office, which is less than five minutes away. It’s safe to avoid a regular schedule on a regular route. It might give casual observers bad ideas. The driver is well-trained and seems knowledgable about defensive driving. After navigating the streets of Kabul, I’m sure he could be a NASCAR wonder boy.

Kidnappings are the big fear and an age-old Afghan occupation. Most are well planned by gangs seeking money. All kidnappings of foreigners, so far, happen at night when the streets are quiet. The victim has been chosen because of their regular schedule, route, lack of guard and familiarity in the community. The kidnappers drive in several vehicles that force the victim’s car to the side of the road using emergency lights and armed imposters dressed in police uniforms—which can be bought in any bazaar for a few bucks. Unfortunately, sometimes the drivers are in on the deal. I have been instructed not to be in any car after dark, and never take a taxi day or night.

We zip through the side streets from the guest house to Ariana TV. The station is on about an acre of ground, surrounded, like the guest house by 8 ft. walls crowned in concertina wire. 2-3 unarmed guards are out front and they frisk and use a metal detector on all people coming in (except me, the “American boss” to whom they give a snappy salute, which I return with a firm handshake). My second floor office, is more than twice the size of any one else’s, but I share it with my assistant, Ayoob. It’s used for frequent meetings on comfortable sofas and chairs that are almost never empty of visitors pitching something.

One wall has large windows with a view over a wasted area of the city. There were huge battles in this area during the 1990s civil war, and every building has had major damage, or is a pile of rubble. Makeshift workshops and stores made from shipping containers or chunks of lumber line the street. Walls are pock marks from hundreds of bullets and grenade explosions. But there is lots of reconstruction going on too, and I’m sure in a few years, all signs of war damage will be gone in the neighborhood. As I watch the traffic zoom by on Darulaman street, I note how easy it would be for a van to pull up, open its side door, and fire a rocket propelled grenade at my nice wide window. The first day I turned the desk around to face the window, wondering if I would have enough time to duck if one day an RPG round ripped through the sixty yards between me and the street. (to be continued)

At the office

2007-04-23T08:38:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

The office view continues over the ruins to a dry mountain ridge that soars up 1,000 ft. The light changes as the clouds move quickly overhead, and the view becomes alternately clear then obscured as various minor dust storms blow through during the day. It’s like watching a giant computer animation.

Dust storms are an amazing phenomenon you don’t see in the US. Suddenly the wind begins to rush up 30-40 mph, like a huge thunderstorm, but with no rain. Sand and dust are carried with it, choking the air and dropping visibility sometimes to only a few feet. I feel sorry for the walkers and bicyclists I see on the street, but it justifies the scarves nearly everyone wears around their necks. When the dust blows, they can quickly cover their faces and get at least some protection. Within a half hour, it’s clear and normal again as if nothing happened. A big one happens once a week, smaller ones maybe 10-20 mph happen almost every day. It rained the first four days I was here, every day. It hasn’t rained since. It’s dry, but not an oven, and temps now range from 55 at night to mid-80s during the day. Very pleasant actually. The bad part is you can only go out in the courtyards. Because of the new security alerts, a leisurely walk through the neighborhood in Kabul is taboo. To every Westerner I’ve met, that is the most difficult thing about being here. The city is so interesting, but you can’t really get out and enjoy it.

The courtyards are nice break. At ArianaTV, they are developing walkways with rose gardens, and paying a lot of attention to little details. They’re trying to get a nice fountain working. An artist is painting famous Afghan sites in niches along the interior wall. There is a little gazebo with a set of table and chairs where you can take a break or eat something. When there’s a slight breeze, it is very pleasant. But you never escape the pent-up feeling.

There is a full-time cook and servant staff of 5 people at Ariana TV. They will bring you anything you want if they have it. I can order a mid-morning snack which might be a boiled egg, some Afghan bread and a cup of green tea. They feed 70 employees (all Afghans) lunch by bringing trays of food to everyone’s office. It is generally the same stewed hunk of meat about the size of a small lemon swimming in a glass bowl of a spicy, oily reddish sauce. It is not highly flavored, and to avoid a ¼ cup of oil, (they call it gravy) I sieve out the meat with a fork and put it on my plate of Afghan rice. The rice is a tasty, loose basmati rice, sometimes dressed up with raisins, carrot shreds and maybe a few nuts. Someone told me the rice is slightly sautéed in lamb fat, which gives it a nice flavor, but it’s not very healthy or light on the Western stomach.

The kitchen crew comes by 2-3 times a day with tea or coffee, sometimes with a bit of bread and cream cheese. I have a giant 10 gallon bottle of purified water that I drink from all day, and which everyone thinks is some crazy American thing. There’s a bet going to see if I’ll finish it within a month (I surely will). For most 3-4 cups a day of tea is their major liquid intake. Tea is also offered when guests arrive, but not automatically, I need to ask for it.

The cooking staff and housekeepers (all men) are gracious, respectful and appreciative of the slightest kindness. This really is the Afghan way. No one grumbles about being a cook or a guard or a cleaner or store clerk, or any job that in the West people might find demeaning. Everyone is proud of their work and always looking to do it a little bit better. To refuse their desire to give good service is an insult, like refusing the tea they brought, or wanting to carry your own bag, if they offer. I have learned that because I am the boss, I must always walk through the door first. If I offer a staffer to go first, I embarrass them. Very different for an American.

Along the same line, I was in a little store the other day buying some intriguing looking home-baked goods including a local style baklava. The clerk filled a bag with much more than I wanted and the cost was about 25 cents. I tried to give him another quarter, as a tip, and he gave it right back, with a slightly insulted look. It was his job, he was proud if it, he decided the prices for a fair transaction, and I shouldn’t mess with that. How different from the U.S. where tip jars demand attention in so many shops. (to be continued)

The Office; Kabul version

2007-04-22T08:25:00.000-04:00

from a journal written when I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network

The office day is always an intense swirl of one interruption after another. People here just walk into an office and expect to be seen immediately with their issue. They’ll walk right up in the middle of a meeting with a piece of paper put it in front of you and ask you a detailed question. Or they’ll come in sit in a chair and say they want a meeting.

“Right now?”
“Yes.”
”Well, I’m busy with another meeting right now. Can you make an appointment for later in the week?”
“No understand.”
“OK, Can you come back in 15 minutes?”

Leave, come back? That’s an interesting concept, and they walk out quizzically. Frequently a porter will poke his head in, look around and leave. I don’t know what he’s looking for, maybe empty tea glasses to take away. Maybe looking for someone that someone else told him to find. If I ask why he keeps coming in, nobody knows or seems to mind at all.

Individual space and property here are fluid concepts. People walk in the middle of the roads, bikes ride on crowded sidewalks pushing people aside. Drivers drive on both sides of the road in any direction they feel. Someone will pick up your glass and drink from it. People frequently share meals from the same plate or pan—three or four at a time. It’s like working with five year olds who wander everywhere and are into anything without the slightest concern. They’re not being inconsiderate, it’s just a different culture. In a way, more friendly, relaxed and open.

I finally put a sign on the door of my office that said in English and Dari, “Do not enter without speaking to the secretary first.” Everyone thought it was a quaint Western custom, and vowed to try and be more Western too. It helped, and whenever there are important meetings I ask the secretary to be especially vigilant. I am trying to institute a policy of setting meeting times for people who want to talk to me, and as usual the staff picks up on it right away. Every time I leave the office, least one person will come up and ask for a meeting. Some day, I note, I’ll get the receptionist an appointment book and show her how to set appointments. For now, everyone has an urgent problem that must take precedence over everyone else’s.

It’s like driving in Kabul. Everyone must squeeze in front of everyone else. It’s not rude, it’s just the way it is. If you see an opening, you go for it and no one feels bad that they didn’t get there first.

After lunch, the day seems to fly by. I used to work until 6:30-7:00 PM (after getting there at 7:30 am) 6 days a week. It became too much, so now the schedule is arrive at the office by 7:30 AM. I’ve moved to a much nicer guest house, right down the street from the TV station. Now I walk to work. A guard walks with me, curious why the American would deign to walk in the dirty street, when a chauffeur could be there in a minute. He’s unarmed, but has a walkie-talkie to call for help if there’s trouble along our 30 yard walk. Armed guards at the corner watch out for me, and snap to attention when I come into view.

These guards always want me to get them a TV for their guard hut. They are a little miffed that they work at a TV station, but have no TV. They are very nice, and I intend to get them one, but it’s hard to get out to the bazaar. Recently one asked me again for a TV. In a playful mood, I pointed to his AK-47 rifle and said let me shoot it a little bit, and I’ll get you a TV. He handed me the rifle, no problem.

I said no no, just kidding but he insisted I try it. Shoot it into a wall; it won’t hurt anybody. Great, I imagined the bullets ricocheting off, hitting somebody and causing an international incident. Finally the guard gave up, shrugging his shoulders, like, ok whatever. Ayoob, my assistant, was with me and kindly offered to take me out in the country where we could shoot as much as I wanted. I said yeah, maybe one day-- but avoided the subject after that. (to be continued)

The Koochis and their camels

2007-04-21T09:23:00.000-04:00

I am getting to know the neighborhood where I’m living better, mainly because we take a different route to the station everyday (security precaution). There is a lot of war damage, and the more I see of Kabul, the more I see the devastation of war. In the late 80s, the warlords would just bomb neighborhood after neighborhood until they were piles of rubble. I imagine the streets were impassable. Thousands and thousands were killed. And it was all Afghan on Afghan. And what a sin, because the untouched areas are very interesting. Trees grow well here.

The streets are connected in many places by little traffic circles. There are broad sidewalks and little pocket parks. Some of the few surviving blocks of buildings are hundreds of years old and lean into each other like European medieval villages that tourists love. Sadly, there is so much devastation in some places that it’s hard to imagine why people stayed at all. Bombing someone back to the stone age? Kabul’s been there, done that. I sometimes think about organizing an “end of the world tour;” See what the end of WWIII will look like—visit Kabul!

Yesterday I saw a colorfully dressed extended family heading out of town with 4 camels packed high with wrapped packages. Of course they were walking in the middle of a traffic-choked street, and of course people drove their cars right on the camels’ heels, honking their horns. The little kids in the family caravan whizzed between car and camel. An old man dressed in a flowing robe and turban paid no attention to the ruckus, but waved a stick which the camels followed religiously.

I didn’t have my camera. Time travel? This is not culture shock, this is culture electrocution. Just rub your eyes and say—what a cool dream. The drivers told me these were Koochi people. They ride into Kabul to trade, then head back a couple hundred miles and a thousand years to their nomadic desert homeland. So within this broken down city, there are amazing snippets of an amazing world. I wanted to follow the Koochis and their camels.

After work in Kabul

2007-04-20T07:57:00.000-04:00

The days can be pretty exhausting with the constant demanding interruptions, language differences and convoluted translations, the lack of basic equipment and supplies, failed internet connections, lousy cell phone connections, and dust storms. By 5:30 pm I’m ready to get back to my room ASAP shove in my earplugs, turn off the cell phone, and hope for a short nap before dinner.

Dinner is always Afghan cuisine. It’s good, but not as interesting and clever as Thai or Indian. Everything is stewed together to a single soft consistency, and the same cumin, pepper etc. spices are are always used. You could say the same about American food. Maybe it all tastes like catsup, mustard and barbeque sauce. Afghan vegetables are cooked until they are nearly mush, but they do have a salad of finely chopped tomatoes, onion, green pepper, parsley and sometimes cilantro and maybe cabbage that is a refreshingly cool and crunchy relief.

Initially I didn’t want to eat anything raw, because of cleanliness issues but I haven’t had any problem. The cooks appear to scrupulously wash everything in a bleach solution. This is usual even in their homes. They understand safe food preparation. So everyone here eats the salad, and I don’t mind. I’ll have an apple, but I’ll peel it before eating. They have a rough, woody texture, but are tasty and refreshingly fresh. Mangoes are now in season and delicious. I try to have one for breakfast each morning now.

After dinner, there’s really nothing to do. You can’t go out anywhere, not even for a short walk. There is a small compound but I've memorized every tree, brush and rock. There is a company gym nearby that we're encouraged to use, but I wouldn't know how to get there, and no one at the guest house has a car (though instant access to drivers was part of the initial deal).

A few times, I’ve watched part of a movie or documentary on a satellite channel in the common room, but the commercial and promo breaks are so frequent, long and repetitive they chase me away. The ads from India for toothpaste, cooking sauces, and other mass market consumer items are so cloying, they’ll drive the termites back into the wood.

So I’ll go into my room do some emailing, maybe prepare a work checklist for the next day, make a call or two to the US, then go bed. Ear plugs are required because the grinding of the building’s diesel electricity generator sends subtle vibrations and hums throughout. Noise from the street, includes frequent blood-curdling dog and cat fights,beeping horns, and the low rumble from dozens of electric generators-- every house has one. So sleep is tough-- not to mention the bed, which I'll get to later.

The neighborhood mullah calls everyone to prayer at 11p and again about 3:45am on a tinny loudspeaker a couple doors down. Backyard roosters start screeching just before dawn at 4:15. After the first week I was generally able to sleep through the night. I’m always tired at the end of the day; the culture stress is both physically and mentally exhausting. And just about every westerner I’ve met suffers from the same feelings.

Driving through Kabul at night

2007-04-19T20:27:00.001-04:00

Kabul at night. It was the first time I had been out driving at night, during the “danger hours,” when westerners were sternly warned to stay off the streets. I had gone out to a nice dinner with 3 colleagues from the station at B's wood-fired pizza, which was a very good, if deserted western-style restaurant. Two weeks earlier, an Italian woman had been dragged from her car and kidnapped, and I might have known better. But I didn't want to look like a fraidy cat American to these Afghans.

Just ten PM, and the usually packed city was deathly quiet – no lights, shops closed, sidewalks deserted. Dark buildings leaned over the street, making uneven cut outs in the blanket of stars above. Our tiny beat-up Mazda, cruised down the streets, jerking to avoid deep potholes in the street, like an tilt-a-whirl at a county fair.

As we entered a roundabout lit by two acid-yellow lights, one of Kabul’s mini wind storms blew a cloud of dust and paper across the street. Dim figures emerged, just silhouettes at first. It was 4 or 5 guys, in police uniforms, AK-47 automatic rifles in hand, waving at us to stop. That doesn’t mean much, because police uniforms can be bought in any bazaar for a few bucks.

I looked over my shoulder from the front passenger seat at my friends in the rear, but they looked as scared as I felt. An armed guard, with his own AK-47, was usually back there. On this trip, out to a late dinner, we had decided it wasn’t necessary—and there wouldn’t have been room anyway. As the driver eased to a stop, rolled down his window, and snapped on the interior light, I instinctively laid my hands flat and open on my lap. Great, this was the exact opposite of what I had been told not to do ever since setting foot in Afghanista-- riding in a car, without a guard, late at night.

A policeman, or the guy dressed like one, stuck his head through the window. After a long stare at the four of us, he asked for the driver’s permit. I was the only westerner. He motioned at me to open the glove box. Thankfully, nothing was inside—like a gun. He stepped off and waved us on. The driver floored it and the police disappeared in a swirl of yellow dust and crumpled papers. I swore to myself that I’d never do that again. But I did. (to be continued)

A day with the ladies from the BBC

2007-04-18T08:26:00.000-04:00

It was another Friday in Kabul. Friday is the day of rest, the holy day where men go the mosque and office workers. It is also the only day off. Surprisingly, many of the street bazaars and vendors are open and crowded. For me, it is a day to do something besides go to work and sleep in the guest house. This one I spent with two very interesting young ladies from the BBC who have lead an amazingly unique life these past two months. Here’s the story.

A few weeks ago a young western-looking lady, but dressed in a long dress and long head-covered shawl breezed into my office. She thrust out her hand and in a refined London accent and said “I’m Julia Paul from the BBC heah to conduct the journalism class for your reportahs.” I had expected her, of course, not knowing exactly when, this being Kabul, but hadn’t actually understood why the BBC would be educating cub reporters in Kabul.

The BBC is the public broadcasting of Britain, and somewhat similar to PBS,, except it is well-funded through an annual tax on every TV set in the UK. It doesn’t burden its audience with beg-a-thons, nor is it threatened elected politicos in congress who threaten to cancel funding when it disagrees with their political line. It’s programming, too, runs circles around anything PBS produces in the US.
The BBC raises many millions of dollars, and so it is the premier quality TV and radio news network in the world. The BBC is dedicated to getting its message around the globe, and not just those with satellite dishes.
It’s radio world service has thousands of transmitters around the world, so anyone with a $2 pocket radio can hear it . People in cars can listen. Remote villages in Africa listen on the hour to the BBC news, which is translated into 37 languages. Even in Kabul, there are 24/7 BBC broadcasts in English and the local languages on FM radio. There is also 24/7 French radio, 24/7 German radio, and sometimes Belgian, but not a minute of American sourced news or commentary.

In this country where there are 20,000 US soldiers and thousands more US foreign service and US aid workers, there is no US radio. The venerable Voice of America shut down a while back, a victim of federal budget cuts—after all, the cold war was over, and never mind the war on terror. .(Note: Since my trip, the US Voice of America has initiated Afghan language radio and TV broadcasts which are high quality and avidly listened to.)

Oh, and there are no commercials on the BBC world service, so you actually don’t get tired of listening to it. And there are no giant ad agencies dictating programming content decisions to them either.

So, the only major English language news here is delivered by the BBC (although another big irony, German radio, Deutsche Welle broadcasts regular programs in English). Unless you count Fox Satellite TV News, which is considered to be a jingoistic propaganda machine on the level of Radio Moscow in the 1970s, with laughable view points and reportage that is ignored by every thoughtful person outside the US.

The BBC has a good TV satellite channel that features 30 minute breaking news programs and more in-depth discussion and documentary programs. But I spend most of my time listening to the BBC World Service radio, which comes in loud and clear on the $6 Chinese-made 11 band “Sing Box” radio that sits on my desk (well, being Chinese, only two bands actually work). After a day of trying to figure out the broken English and hand signals of my Afghan friends, it's a huge mental break to listen to normal English for a while. (to be continued)

Kabul Photo Gallery

2007-03-01T17:10:00.000-05:00

I spent five weeks in Kabul during the summer of 2005 consulting with an Afghan company that was developing an educational TV network. Here are some views of the city.

This is the bombed out presidential palace.
It's a icon of Afghanistan's suffering over the past 35 years.

This family was walking along an empty road far from Kabul
Their belongings were in a wheelbarrow. They were very pleased to pose.
The mother whipped off her burka to show off her beautiful outfit.

These two brothers were playing in front of my guest house one day.
When I asked to take their picture, they posed stiffly.
I asked them to relax, and this is what they came up with.

This muddy creek outside Kabul is cleaner than it looks.
The bombed out buildings make a sad backdrop to grow up in.

Hard-working broom seller

Bike safety is not a great concern in Kabul.