Mice take out our Printer

A few days ago, our printer stopped working.  Somehow a brand new ink cartridge was gone in less than a week.

A few days later, the scanner started acting crazy.

We open up the printer cover and there are two little gray mice inside there.  One was blue and yellow and red from eating away at a second printer cartridge.  The other was tangled up in the wiring of the Printer and was chewing away either for a bit of lunch or to untangle himself.  The colored mouse took off and excaped but the little guy eating the wires was still tangled in the wires.  So we took the printer outside and shook the little dude loose and he scurried away as well.

Who knew that mice thought printer ink delicious.

Another printer destroyed by Afghanistan.

Kabul Map from 1999

Kabul, Afghanistan
This one-meter resolution satellite image of Kabul, Afghanistan was collected on Sept. 7, 1999 by Space Imaging’s IKONOS satellite. IKONOS travels 423 miles above the Earth’s surface at a speed of 17,500 miles per hour. (Mandatory photo credit: spaceimaging.com)

2 years and three days from the date of this photo, the life of this city would be altered forever. The Twin Towers in New York would fall and the US Army would invade Afghanistan. Bombing Kabul and deposing the taliban and their medieval reign. The city and it’s people will recover and nothing will ever be the same. Some will be thankful. Others will fight.

Having driven around Kabul a fair amount, I know the city fairly well. It’s odd to look at this map and see how it used to be. Major landmarks of today are missing from the view. The American Embassy Compound. Massoud Circle Monument. Of course, Massoud was still alive in 1999. It would be two years later that the cowardly al Qaeda assassins murder Massoud with a bomb hidden in a video camera. Not until 2002 or 2003 that the American Embassy compound begins construction. The old airport facilities have begun to be torn down and today there is a new facility built by the coalition and run by a British company.

The safe houses in which we stay when I move through Kabul are not there nor are the Indian and Iranian Embassies. Camp Eggers is still a group of houses. I’m guessing they are vacated as when the US first inhabited that compound there were years old animal carcasses found laying about.

Kabul has changed quite a bit since this picture was taken.

In 1999, the taliban were running around beating men for not having 3 inches of beard. They were shooting women for adultery. The men, of course, were given 20 lashes or so for having been bewitched by those women. Women were not allowed to walk the streets of Kabul without a relative male escort. All manner of medieval lunacy ruled the streets of Kabul under the reign of terror imposed by the Taliban and their Pakistan and al Qaeda sponsors.

Today, though Kabul still convulses in violence on the odd occasion, it is a city much like any other in Central Asia. No Westerner coming for the first time would think it civilized. Comparatively speaking, though, Kabul is normalized. The bazaars are open. Shop keepers go about their daily business. The citizens of Kabul are free to come and go as they please. Women can be seen walking the streets alone and in pairs. No male escort required. Unless, of course, they are family of one of the backward thinking members of the Muslim community. Kids walk the streets. Students going to and from Kabul University and a plethora of schools from primary to High School. There are snooker halls and gyms open all over the city. Restaurants are everywhere. Poorly maintained cell towers. Even shopping malls have sprung up here and there.

Taken as a whole, Kabul is not a bad city. The corruption of the Karzai government is ubiquitous. Seen everywhere. From the police who patrol the streets and man the central stations to the government officials who earn 10 to 20 thousand dollars a year, yet, own million dollar homes dotted across the city land scape and surrounding neighborhoods.

It’s interesting to see this bit of history. An apparition from the near past. So much has changed. So much altered. Both progress and regression.

I wonder what it will look like in another decade. Will chaos rule again or will the Afghan people move ahead and persevere despite the leaders that look to profit from the violence and chaos?

Chaghcharan ~ Ghosts of The Ghorid Empire

There are two entries in Wikipedia for Chaghcharan.

Chaghcharān (Persian: چغچران) is a town and district in central Afghanistan, as well as the capital of Ghor Province. It was formerly known as Ahangaran. The main inhabitants of Chaghcharan are Tajiks. It is located on the southern side of the Hari River, at an altitude of 2,280 meters above sea level. Approximately 15,000 people live in the town, making it the largest in the province. Chaghcharan is linked by a 380-kilometre-long highway with Herat to the west and about the same distance with Kabul to the east. Due to severe weather, the road is often closed during winter and even in summer it can take three full days to drive from Chagcharan to Kabul.

There is an airstrip, located north and west of the Hari River, one mile east/northeast of Chaghcharan. It is approximately 1800 metres in length, unpaved and capable of supporting small to medium sized aircraft.

In 2004, an independent FM radio station راديو صداي صلح or ‘Voice of Peace Radio’ opened in the town, the first independent media in this part of Afghanistan.

In June 2005, ISAF established a Lithuanian led Provincial Reconstruction Team in which Croatian, Danish, US, UkranianIcelandic troops also serve.

and

Chaghcharan District is one of the most populated districts in Ghor Province (115,000 in 2005). It is a mountainous district. The winter is severe and the roads are inaccessible because of the snow. The district center Chaghcharan is also the capital of the province. It is situated at 34°31′21″N 65°15′06″E / 34.5225°N 65.2517°E / 34.5225; 65.2517 at 2268 m elevation. The drought seriously affected the agriculture — the main source of income. There are a hospital and secondary schools in the district center, but because of the bad roads and severe weather they are hardly accessible to the rural population. Most of the population is Aimaq Hazara.

The first states that the people are mostly Tajik.  The second correctly states that the people of Chagcharan are mostly Aimaq.  The Aimaq are a Shi’a people closely related to the Hazara of Afghanistans Hazarajat.

I have been trying to get to Chaghcharan for the past 18 months to train the ANP Province Logistics Cadre.  Always before some problem arose.  Some unseen event would halt our progress and keep us away.  Either personnel on the ground were busy or out of the net or the winter snows would forestall progress in our travel.  We’d get bumped from the flight.  The flight would be cancelled due to weather or the aircraft would break down on the flight line or be re-routed.  Something would happen to keep us from getting there.  All plans came to naught.

Finally, Shoaib and I made it up there. I didn’t trust it until we actually landed.  Kept waiting for a sudden snow storm or the aircraft to run out of fuel and need to re-direct to Bagram or Kabul or worse, yet, Qandahar.  Who knows.  It’s happened before.

Heading out on leave, I was flown from Herat to Kabul.  Somehow, we were re-routed to Qandahar for a fuel stop.  We landed.  I looked out the window and told my fellow passengers that we were in Qandahar.  They thought I was crazy.  I recognized the place though because I’d been there a couple of times with another company.  I just started laughing as the flight crew stepped back to apologize for the landing and explained that neither Kabul or Herat had fuel readily available so we had to land in Qandahar to fuel up.  That pit stop turned a 1 hour 45 minute flight into a 5 hour ordeal.  Making matters worse was that we had been on the flight line for 10 hours prior to that flight because 3 other flights had been canceled that day.  We were happy as hell, though, when we landed in Kabul.  Not a complaint one.  We were just happy to finally make it and be in position to make it out for our respective R&Rs.

Back to Chaghcharan…

We board a Canadian ISAF flight to Chaghcharan from Herat.  Shoaib and I are both afraid to get our hopes up.  We both want to get  up into the mountains and finally do some work in Chor Province.  Shoaib had lived and worked there previously.  He was a Terp for the Lithuanian contingent.  He’d spent two years up there.  I am fascinated by the history of the region and would really like to experience as much of Afghanistan as possible before I finally give up this region and head home or wherever I end up after the Stan.

The Canandians are funny.  A little female NCO comes and briefs us and clears the military passengers weapons.  She gives us the safety brief and tells us that it’s a short flight so we should keep our IBA and Helmets on for the whole of the flight.  Then.  She leads us to the aircraft.  We climb aboard.

We roll down the tarmac and go wheels up.  Almost safe.

I don’t think they turned the heat on during the flight.  No matter.  I was prepared and bundled up in my fleece, Palestinian scarf and combat gloves.  I was warm.  I strap myself in.  Put my helmet on and prepare to catch a nap.

Shoaib sits on the web seating and tries to work the seat belt.  I watch him as he stares at it befuddled and then show him how to work the clasp.  All the while chuckling.  I had assumed that he’d been on a C130 before.

Apparently, he hadn’t.

45 minutes later, we land.

I’m excited as hell.

FINALLY!

We made it.

18 months in the making.  We’re in Chaghcharan.  I’ve read about the place and never thought I’d ever actually make it there.

We climb down the stairs to exit the aircraft and walk onto the dirt runway.

There are three little buildings.  One of which is an outhouse.  The other two are locked up and look to have been out of commission for quite a few years.

We’re greeted by the PRT welcome wagon.  A mix of US and Coalition soldiers from Lithuania, Denmark and Croatia.  They load our bags into some Toyota pick  up trucks and we jump in for the short ride to the FOB.

FOB Whiskey.  PRT Whiskey.  Depending on who is talking to you.  It’s a smallish FOB in the middle of the Hari Rud river basin.  It looks like they diverted the river with a canal the runs around the base and into town.  Even so, when the river swells in the wiinter rain months, the FOB floods and the plywood walking planks, I’m told, float as you walk on them.

We should be returning at that time.  So we may get to experience the floating planks.

We meet our military sponsors.  They show us to our Five Star Hotel.  A not well insulated tent with very inadequate heating that is as dusty as the roads out in town.  No matter.  I’m happy to be there.

It’s a decent FOB.  Pretty good chow.  Same day laundry service.  Decent gym.  Surrounded by Hescos, Concertina wire and 12 ft tall fencing.  As safe as any place in Afghanistan.  Chaghcharan is a pretty sleepy town.  Not too much activity of any sort.  If the Taliban are there, they’re sleeping and waiting to go somewhere else to cause trouble.  FOB Whiskey hasn’t had problems of any sort for almost a year.

We settle in.  Grab a bunk and are given a tour of the FOB.  Not much to see and won’t go into it here.  The highlight is the MWR house with pool tables–Russian and regular.  It also houses a small internet cafe with intermittent internet access.  Every Thursday, the Coalition forces have a beer night.  3 beer limit.  The US forces can not imbibe.  General Order #1 prohibits the consumption of alcohol in Afghanistan.  That lovely throwback to our puritan roots that makes absolutely no sense to me.

I sit down with my military sponsor and we put together a plan.  He briefs me on the Ghor Province Commander and Logistics Cadre.  Giving me a rundown of shortcomings and items that he’d like me to include in my instruciton.  Fuel and Accountability.  We talk about the usual problems that he has noted during his tour in Chaghcharan.  We plan out the next two weeks.

By that time, it’s getting late.  I head off to bed.

I can’t talk too much about our routes and training.  So I’ll leave that part out of here for now.

The rest of the week is left to coordinating travel.

As we travel around to various sites, we drive through the town of Chaghcharan to and from the Province HQ.  We visit the Generals house.  Hit up a few check points to see if they are supplied correctly or manned at all.  All seems well.

I always carry my camera on these trips.  Along the way, I snap random photos.

We drove up to a check point and supply point in the hills surrounding Chaghcharan.  On the way to one of them, we stop at an old Russian Fort.  It looks old.  Like Great Game old.  Late 1800s or so.  I grab my camera and take pictures of the surrounding area.  It’s beautiful country.  Greenery.  Desert.  Mountains.  Roads heading off towards places like Sagar and Pasaband.  A road that one can follow straight to Kabul.  The same road that took the author of  The Places In Between from Herat to Kabul.  Beautiful.  It’s like being on top of the world up there.  You can see for miles in every direction.

After we finish with our mission of training the ANP Logistics Cadre, it’s time for us to head back.  We manifest for a Sunday flight.  That flight gets canceled.  I get a little worried.  Next flight out is Tuesday.  So that Sunday, we head back to the PHQ to mentor the Province Logistics Commander.

Tuesday.  We make the flight.  Early flight.  We rise at OH DARK Thirty.  Pack our bags and equipment on a Toyota truck and head out to the airfield.  We are getting a ride on the mail flight.  It’s a Blackwater flight.  Old Russian Bird.  We wait out on the airstrip for about 45 minutes and she lands.  We climb aboard.

What a difference in conditions.  It’s a heated civilian bird.  Seats like a 747.  But big and cushy.  HEAT!  EXCELLENT HEAT!  Best of all….WINDOWS!

I can take photos along the way on the flight back to Herat.  I must have taken a couple of hundred photos.  Some are below.  I’m pretty syked about this.  I know somewhere in our flight path is Jam and it’s 1000 year old Minaret.  I would love to visit this site.  Get down there and touch it, smell it.  Get a feel for it.  It was built by the rulers of the Ghorid Empire sometime during their reign in the area.  1088 or so.  It’s one of those places that was forgotten and re-discovered.  It’s a 60m tall Minaret with the Mary Sura from the Qu’ran written around the whole of the body of the Minaret.  It’s in surprisingly good shape for a monument from antiquity.

We had a smooth flight and an even smoother landing.  Once we land, Shoaib and I jump off the aircraft.  Offload our bags and drag them to the pick up point.  I send Shoaib home and wait for my ride.  First order of business when I land is to call my boss and let him know that I’m “home.”

Then I call Habibi.  It’s been a little over a week since I’ve talked to  my diminutive sweetheart and I can’t wait to talk to her.  I call her up and…get her answering service.  She’s at work and has her phone turned off.  I laugh.  I guess I’ll have to wait to talk to Unny.

I sit down, pull out my book and wait for my ride back to homebase.  Two hours later, I’m in my hooch relaxing.

Later that night, I finally get through to Unny and my heart smiles to finally hear her voice.  54 more days and I’ll be with her in Bangkok.  We’ll have our party at Bedsupper Club on Soi 11.  Then we head out for our 9 day tour of Vietnam.  Backpacker style.

Very excited about this trip.

Below are the pictures that I took along the way in Chaghcharan.   Lots of pics.  I took approximately fifteen hundred photos up there.  I’ve included a little over a hundred of the best for this blog.

I hope you enjoy them.

Peace

cute little school girls

Bagha ~ these big boys are trained to fight in rural Afghanistan. Maybe Mike Vick has some ties to the locals here.

Plush accomodations

Ye Old Outhouse ~ how’d ya like to do yer bid’ness in that joint in sub-freezing weather

Jam ~ look towards the middle. You can barely make out the Minaret.

Ubiquitous Afghan Burqa

The Karzai Slogan ~ Vote Often!

hangin’ with the Kiwi Witch Doctor

The Hari Rud

DONKEY!!!

Chaghcharan Po Po

What are you looking at!?!

Mahmud wearing his Korean War era US Army Field Jacket

FOB Whiskey Five Star Accomodations

The Matrix Starring Shoaib

Official UK Fan Club — Chaghcharan Chapter

I took my UK Flag up to Chaghcharan, Ghor Province.  Just to take this picture.

Gotta keep the Big Blue Nation growing.  I  think I made a couple of converts up there.

Two New Buddies in Kabul

These little cuties run around in front of our safehouse in Kabul.  Cute as a button and a little attitude to boot.  lol

# 54

Go Big Blue!!!

Big Pat, if you need any back up, give me a yell.  lol

Go Cats!!!

A day in Herat, Afghanistan

“Religion does not require women to veil their hands, feet and faces or enjoin any special type of veil. Tribal custom must not impose itself on the free will of the individual.”

Amanullah Khan
King of Afghanistan (1919-1929),
known as the “reform” king.

“We will not be a pawn in someone else’s game, we will always be Afghanistan!”

Ahmad Shah Masood
Prominent Afghan Commander,
fought against the Russians.

“Whatever countries I conquer in the world, I would never forget your beautiful gardens. When I remember the summits of your beautiful mountains, I forget the greatness of the Delhi throne.”

Ahmad Shah Durrani
Founder of the Afghan Empire, (1747-1773).
Many Afghan historians consider Ahmad Shah as the
true founder of modern Afghanistan.

“Once Europe existed in a Dark Age and Islam carried the torch of learning. Now we Muslims live in a Dark age.”

Mahmud Tarzi
Afghan Intellectual,
advisor to King Amanullah Khan
(1865-1933)

They made me invisible, shrouded and non-being
A shadow, no existence, made silent and unseeing
Denied of freedom, confined to my cage
Tell me how to handle my anger and my rage?
– Zieba Shorish-Shamley, from  “Look into my World”  published on the 50^th anniversary of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights

“When we are together, everyone here is talking about how the Taliban has destroyed our lives.  They won’t let us go to school because they want us to be illiterate like them.”
– Nasima, 35-year-old Kabul resident

If you are wounded and left alone
on Afganistan’s plains
and the women come out to cut up what remains
roll over on to your rifle
and blow out your brains
and go to your Gawd like a soldier
go to your Gawd, go to your Gawd….

Rudyard Kipling, “The Young British Soldier”.

Protected: Nahida and Jalilahmad Part II

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Hedging on Guantanamo

Europe’s Hedging on Inmates Clouds Guantanamo Plans
(New York Times, March 16, 2009, Pg. 1) 
European countries that have offered to help the Obama administration close the detention center at Guantanamo Bay have begun raising questions about the security risks and requirements if they accept prisoners described by the Bush administration as “the worst of the worst,” according to diplomats and other officials. The concerns, and a deep suspicion of whether the American intelligence community will share full information on the prisoners, are likely to complicate the resettlement effort, which is critical to President Barack Obama’s fulfilling his pledge to close Guantanamo within a year of his taking office.

EU Could Aid U.S. by Taking 60 Detainees 
(Financial Times, March 16, 2009)
Up to 60 Guantanamo Bay detainees could be taken in by European Union countries, according to the bloc’s senior justice official. Jacques Barrot, the vice-president of the EU, said Europe’s response to any U.S. request that it take former detainees would be a “test issue” ahead of a trip he is making to Washington this week. “We are open to co-operation to help close Guantanamo as long, of course, as the methods used there are not replicated in other places,” he said, adding that Washington would need to give the EU complete information on the background of the detainees sent to Europe.

U.S. Challenged on Sealing of Detainee Files
(Washington Post, March 16, 2009, Pg. 15) 
The Justice Department has filed “unclassified” records in federal court outlining the government’s cases against more than 100 detainees at the U.S. military prison at Guantanamo Bay, but the records are not being made public. The move has triggered a legal skirmish with detainees’ attorneys, who say the excessive secrecy greatly complicates their work, especially in light of looming hearings. Three news organizations have also joined the fight, saying the government is keeping valuable information from the public. The government says it wants to keep the records from public view for now as a national security precaution after it discovered classified information in the documents.

Love, Taliban Style!

Afghan Women “mark” International Women’s Day

I swear to God.  I did not make this up.  That was the real title to this picture in an International Newspaper.

What a celebration?  Oh, the irony.  Utter lunacy…

They’re marking it alright.  Marking it right off the calender.  It means nothing to these women.  And even less to the men who force them to wear these disgusting bits of cloth.

My opinion.  These things should be outlawed INTERNATIONALLY.  The hijab.  The Burqa.  The Chadori.  The Veil.  They should all be outlawed.  

Period.

Minaret of Jam

Minaret Jami

This is the Minaret of Jam. It’s about a 4 hour drive northeast of Herat on the road to Chist-e Sherif.  The tower has the Sura of Miriam inscribed on mud brick mosaic tiles on it’s outer surface.  The sura of Miriam is the story of the mother of Jesus as told in the Qur’an.  Very little is known for certain about the origins of the tower.  Only that it is an ancient relic dating to sometime around the Ghurid Dynasty of Afghanistan’s history.

he Minaret of Jam is a UNESCO World Heritage Site in western Afghanistan. It is located in the Shahrak District, Ghor Province, by the Hari River. The 65-metre highminaret, surrounded by mountains that reach up to 2400m, is built entirely of baked-bricks. It is famous for its intricate brick, stucco and glazed tile decoration, which consists of alternating bands of kufic and naskhi calligraphy, geometric patterns, and verses from the Qur’an (the surat Maryam, relating to Mary, the mother of Jesus). For centuries, the Minaret was forgotten by the outside world until rediscovered in 1886 by Sir Thomas Holdich, who was working for the Afghan Boundary Commission. It did not come to world attention, however, until 1957 through the work of the French archaeologists André Maricq and Wiet. Herberg conducted limited surveys around the site in the 1970s, before the Soviet invasion of 1979 once again cut off outside access. The archaeological site of Jam was successfully nominated as Afghanistan’s first World Heritage site in 2002. It was also inscribed in UNESCO’s list of World Heritage Sites in Danger, due to the precarious state of preservation of the minaret, and results of looting at the site.

The photos below were taken by an Afghan friend and colleague a few years ago.  He actually took them with a cell phone camera.  Great photos for a cell cam.  At the time, he was working with the Province Governor as a liaison for NGOs.  He and a few friends climbed in a 4WD and took the 8 hour trek over some nasty terrain to visit the Minaret.  They came south and west from the city of Chagcharan which is the capital district of Ghor Province.  Ghor Province is a part of Herat Region which is where I am working at the moment.

It would be amazing if I were able to visit the Minaret of Jam myself and get out to Chist-e Sherif which is a few hours drive from the area where the Minaret was built.  Alas, it is a treacherous drive and if the terrain doesn’t get you, the taleban or bandits might give it a go.  Perhaps, I will get my chance at some future time.  As for now, it is not to be…

Minaret Jami

I just returned from Ghor where I picked up this carpet depicting the Minaret. (21 October 2009)

Minarets of Herat

The Minarets of Herat

I can’t get out to these parts of town.

So…I gave my camera to my boys Shoaib and Wahid.  They cruised down to the Minarets and took these photos for me and did a pretty good job of it.

Great photos.  I cropped and shaped some of them up a bit.  The photos give an excellent idea of the experience of visiting these ancient edifices. I would love to be able to get out there someday and see the Minarets myself.  Touch them.  Feel their spirit or their vibe so to speak.

Perhaps I’ll get the chance someday.

These links give a bit of background information about the Minarets.

Wikipedia

Times Online

Letters from Herat

Function of a Minaret

As well as providing a visual cue to a Muslim community, the call to prayer is traditionally given from the top of the minaret. In some of the oldest mosques, such as the Great Mosque of Damascus, minarets originally served as watchtowers illuminated by torches (hence the derivation of the word from the Arabic nur, meaning “light”). In more recent times, the main function of the minaret was to provide a vantage point from which the muezzin can call out the adhan, calling the faithful to prayer. In most modern Mosques, the adhan is called not in the minaret, but in the musallah, or prayer hall, via a microphone and speaker system.

In a practical sense, these are also used for natural air conditioning. As the sun heats the dome, air is drawn in through open windows and up and out of the shaft, thereby causing a natural ventilation.

Minarets have been described as the “gate from heaven and earth”, and as the Arabic language letter alif (which is a straight vertical line).

The world’s tallest minaret (at 210 meters) is located at the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. The world’s tallest brick minaret is Qutub Minar located in Delhi, India. There are two 230 meter tall minarets under construction in Tehran, Iran.

Scenes from Western Afghanistan

Took this pic on the road to Herat…near the Airport.   It looks hazy because I took it through a bullet proof window.  Thick and dirty glass…so it looks like it’s foggy but, really, it’s a clear day.  And warm for this time of year.  Last year, we had sub-zero weather and 3 feet of snow.  This year.  It’s 50 degrees out.  Can’t complain about that…

Camels are always fascinating for some reason.  Wish I could have snapped a clear shot, though.  Could have been a great shot.  But this one is ok, I suppose.

Opposite side of the road from the Camels.  Took this shot going out today,  This is the end of the mountains as you hit the plains rolling west through Herat and into Iran.  It’s the same route that Alexander and others used to enter Afghanistan over the millenia.

Big old dog…the Afghans usually cut their ears off and use these bad boys for fighting.  Note those huge paws.  If he was well fed, he’d have to weigh in at 100-125 lbs.  Imagine that coming at you.  This dog was at one of the Police Stations off the main road to/from Herat.  Kind of a guard dog or early warning system.  Hear them barking or growling…look out.  May be the Talibs coming at you.

The lovely restroom facilities.  This is a relatively nice one.  ‘Nuff said…lol

This little boy was with his father.  They were contractors building a new room on the roof of the police station.  Water pumps.  In America, this would seem a foreign concept.  But.  This is how much of the world gets their water.  Many do not have this luxury.  It’s a walk to the creek or river or a well.

Old school AC.  I had no idea.  Had to ask.

Herat has a “season” that is called “the 100 days of wind.”  It’s actually closer to 120 days.  The wind blows.  Hard.  Constantly.  For 120 or more days.  HARD!  Did I say hard?  The wind can knock you down it blows so hard.  It’s actually a blessing.  Without the wind, it would be stiflingly hot.

Most of Herat is without electricity.  More of Herat is without air conditioning.  So…they set up a water jug or container of some sort over the brambles in the windows that allows a slow drop into the wood.  The wind blows through the brambles  into the windows and is cooled by the water.   Cools the air in the buildings.  AC!

I’m assuming that this is a Mother and daughter out for an afternoon stroll or heading to market.

This is the famous Minarets of Herat.  Centuries old.  They are starting to fall because of the traffic on the road that runs between them.  Personally, I can’t believe that they laid a road between them.  If you get up close, you can still see remnants of the oven baked tiles that once covered the Minarets completely.

I was not able to visit these ancient edifices.  Afghan friends used my camera and snapped these photos for me.  I’d love to see these myself.  Walk up and touch them.  It would be quite and experience.

A falcon or hawk lazily swoops in between the Minarets searching for prey.  There are 5 remaining towers in the Musalla Complex.  The others have fallen.  I think there were originally 7.  The site was built in the 1400s by Queen Gawharshad–wife of one of the Timurid Shahs.  The complex consists of the 5 remaining minarets and several shrines and libraries.

The famous Masjid Jami of Herat.  One of the most beautiful structures I have ever seen.  It rivals the Muhammand Ali Mosque in Cairo for magnificence.   This is the peoples Mosque.  It is the place where the city congregates each Friday.  Building on the Mosque began in 1200 AD.  I’m not certain as to how long it took to complete construction.  It has been badly damaged several times.   Genghis Khan conquered the city on his way through the region and left the mosque severely damaged.

in the middle of Afghanistan–BIG BLUE

So I’m standing outside the Regional Police HQ in Herat.  Waiting to head back to base.  We’re smoking and joking with the Afghan Police who are heading out to lunch.  When up walks this guy:

And to my surprise…DUDE HAS A KENTUCKY WILDCATS hat on his head.  One of those old tobagons (presently called a beanie)  from the 70s or 80s.

Couldn’t help myself.  I started laughing and told the guy that he had to stop and take a photo with me.  I tried to get my terp to get the words in the pic.  If you look closely, you can make it out.  “Kentucky Wildcats”

We posed for the pic and I thanked him.  And laughed all the way home about the incident.

The hat must have been a donation from some Kentucky fan and found it’s way to the Humanitarian Aid program heading to Afghanistan.

Crazy…

Views from an uparmored HMMVW

I go out on the road a few times a week.  Often times, I”ll bring along my camera.  Just in case there is a good photo opportunity waiting for me out there.

It’s amazing to me that the majority of Afghanistan lives their lives out in mud structures like the one pictured below. So different these people are from the place that I was raised.  I often think about my childhood and think that we were poor.  By comparison, we were wealthy.  These folks have next to nothing.  If they have two suits of clothing to wear, they are considered wealthy.  Most wear the same clothes until they are too ragged to wear.  Likewise, even those who have more than one set of clothing will wear the same clothes all week.  Alternating between outfits each Saturday.  In the cities, there are more affluent folks.  Some even on a Western scale.  After all, Agha Khan is from Afghanistan.  He is one of  the wealthiest men on the planet.

There are very few modern road systems in Afghanistan.   Most of these roads and most of this place is little different from when Alexander the Great conquered the region.  The city nearest to me was destroyed by Alexandrian forces after it rebelled.

It is exceedingly difficult to take pictures from the back of an uparmored Hummer.  Two inch thick windows that measures one foot by one foot.  But I offer these for your perusal.

Zarang

A Herati family makes their way about town.

I took this photo while downtown the other day.  I was inside the police headquarters looking out of the gate.

Prayer and Peace in Afghanistan

Riding out the gate recently.

The gunners are locking and loading.  The vehicle commanders are making sure that all of the combat checks are good to go.

I’m sitting back in my seat buckled in and getting my radio and Ipod adjusted so that I can hear my music and the other guys in the vehicle.  Gotta have those comms.  Never know what might happen.

We are all geared up and ready for the enemy.  I’m thinking about what I’m going to say to my Afghan counterparts and the training that I have planned for my ANP counterparts.

I just happen to glance out my window as we are passing one of the checkpoints.

There is an Afghan soldier praying.  He’s standing with hands folded in front of him.  Head facing down.  Prayer beads dangling from his hand.  His prayer carpet is laid out in front of him.  His eyes are closed and I can tell that he is silently reciting his prayers.  Lo illaha illala Mohammad rasulallah…Rahman, Bismullah, Rahim…Allahu Akhbar…

It’s such a peaceful scene.  Such contrast to all of the events taking place around him.

It’s bizarrely serene amidst all the unrest and disorder that is this country.  A bit of peace in the chaos and ravages of war that is Afghanistan in this era.

It was heartening.  As if God was saying; “This too shall pass.  In time, all will be well.”

It may.  All may be well in time.

Insha’allah…

The War Won’t End in Afghanistan

Senator Barack Obama said something at the presidential debate last week that almost perfectly encapsulates the difference between his foreign policy and his opponent’s: “Secretary of Defense Robert Gates himself acknowledges the war on terrorism started in Afghanistan and it needs to end there.” I don’t know if Obama paraphrased Gates correctly, but if so, they’re both wrong.

If Afghanistan were miraculously transformed into the Switzerland of Central Asia, every last one of the Middle East’s rogues gallery of terrorist groups would still exist. The ideology that spawned them would endure. Their grievances, such as they are, would not be salved. The political culture that produced them, and continues to produce more just like them, would hardly be scathed. Al Qaedism is the most radical wing of an extreme movement which was born in the Middle East and exists now in many parts of the world. Afghanistan is not the root or the source.

Naturally the war against them began in Afghanistan. Plans for the September 11, 2001, attacks on the United States were hatched in Afghanistan. But the temporary location of the plotters of that strike means little in the wide view of a long struggle. Osama bin Laden and his leadership just as easily could have planned the attacks from Saudi Arabia before they were exiled, or from their refuge in Sudan in the mid 1990s. Theoretically they could have even planned the attacks from an off-the-radar “safe house” in a place like France or even Nebraska had they managed to sneak themselves in. The physical location of the planning headquarters wasn’t irrelevant, but in the long run the ideology that motivates them is what must be defeated. Perhaps the point would be more obvious if the attacks were in fact planned in a place like France instead of a failed state like Afghanistan.

Hardly anyone wants to think about the monumental size of this task or how long it will take. The illusion that the United States just needs to win in Afghanistan and everything will be fine is comforting, to be sure, but it is an illusion. Winning the war in Iraq won’t be enough either, nor will permanently preventing Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons or resolving the Arab-Israeli conflict. The war may end somewhere with American troops on the ground, or, like the Cold War, it might not. No one can possibly foresee what event will actually put a stop to this war in the end. It is distant and unknowable. The world will change before we can even imagine what the final chapter might look like.

Most of the September 11 hijackers were Saudis. All were Arabs. None hailed from Afghanistan. This is not coincidental. Al Qaeda’s politics are a product of the Arab world, specifically of the radical and totalitarian Wahhabi sect of Islam founded in the 18th Century in Saudi Arabia by the fanatical Muhammad ibn Abd-al-Wahhab. He thought the medieval interpretations of Islam even on the backward Arabian peninsula were too liberal and lenient. His most extreme followers cannot even peacefully coexist with mainstream Sunni Muslims, let alone Shia Muslims, Jews, Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, secularists, feminists, gays, or anyone else. Their global jihad is a war against the entire human race in all its diversity and plurality.

Wahhabism has spread outward from Saudi Arabia by proselytizers funded by petrodollars who have set up mosques, madrassas, and indoctrination centers nearly everywhere from Indonesia to the United States. In the Balkans, for instance, Wahhabis are actually replacing traditional moderate Ottoman mosques destroyed by the Yugoslav Army and Serbian paramilitary units with their own extremist knockoffs. They’re staking out new ground in the West where they deliberately gin up virulent hatred among immigrants from Muslim countries. They tried to car-bomb their way into power in parts of Iraq, and in the cities of Baqubah, Fallujah, and Ramadi they even succeeded for a while.

In some places the ideology flourishes more than in others. It was effectively transplanted to Afghanistan with the assistance of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence agency. In thoroughly secular Muslim countries like Azerbaijan and Albania, bin Ladenism remains thinner on the ground than in Western Europe. Its adherents are unevenly distributed, but it began in the Middle East and has since metastasized.

Al Qaeda leaders did not spring up from the ground in Afghanistan, nor are they chained there. They move around. Any country where they are located becomes crucial whether American soldiers are present or not. Like the Cold War, this conflict is not exclusively military, but the theaters of armed conflict have already been widened well beyond Afghanistan. And the war isn’t America-centric. It is not all about us. Fighting between violent Islamists and their enemies broke out in Arab countries like Algeria and Lebanon, and even in countries without a Muslim majority like Russia and the Philippines. Many of these conflicts started before the attacks on September 11, before anyone could even imagine that American troops would fight a hot war in Afghanistan.

And let’s not forget the radical Shias. While Sunni Wahhabis export their fundamentalist creed from the Arabian Peninsula, the Khomeinists in the Islamic Republic of Iran are busy exporting their own revolutionary and totalitarian brand of Shia Islam to countries like Lebanon and Iraq. So far the Iranians and their proxies have been less violent and extreme than Al Qaeda, but Iran remains the biggest state sponsor of terrorism in the world. While the leaders are Shias, that has not – contrary to mistaken conventional wisdom – stopped them from forming tactical alliances with radical Sunnis from Hamas in Gaza to Ansar Al Islam.

Before the U.S. demolished the regime of Saddam Hussein, Ansar Al Islam was based in and around the town of Biara in Northern Iraq. Al Qaeda in Iraq founder Abu Musab al Zarqawi was one of its members. American Special Forces and Iraqi Kurdish Peshmerga fighters pushed Ansar into the Northern Iranian city of Mariwan where they remain today and receive support from the government of Iran. They have since changed their name to Al Qaeda in Kurdistan.

On some level even Senator Obama himself understands that Afghanistan is unlikely be the beginning and the end of this war. He correctly argues that more needs to be done to shut down the safe havens bin Laden and company have established in Pakistan. He likely doesn’t believe some of his own rhetoric about Afghanistan even though it’s a standard staple of his campaign. His dovish liberal base seems sometimes desperate to believe that Afghanistan was the beginning and will be the end of a war they have little stomach to wage.

Wishing will not make it so. Afghanistan, indeed all of Central Asia, is on the periphery. The violent ideologies that animate the most dangerous terrorist movements in the world are Arabic and, to a lesser extent, Persian. The Middle East is central. It is not a distraction. It is where the war truly began because it is where most of the combatants, ideological leaders, and supporters were born and raised. While there’s a chance it won’t end there, most of it will be fought there.

Michael J. Totten – 09.29.2008 – 4:32 PM

Michael Totten speaks the truth.  Will anyone listen?

She was adorable…

I had to run over to Camp Arena today to get the cap placed back on my tooth. Damn thing came off last night while I was eating. Camp Arena is the ISAF base at the Airport. The Spanish run the Hospital there. The Army gave me and two other guys a ride over for our dental appointments. The Spanish Docs were all pretty cool. Spaniards whom I have met over here are all pretty laid back. While we were waiting, two of the Docs walked out to have a smoke. I joined them. The both were intrigued by my smokes. Djarum Black Cappuccino. [thanx, Sis] They kept saying “cappuccino” and telling me that my smokes smelled like pipe or cigar tobacco. So I gave them a couple of my smokes. They were pretty appreciative. I think I made a couple of friends.

When I walked up to the Hospital, waiting outside in the “waiting room” were several Afghanis. The women all seemed to be dressed pretty upscale for Afghans. Very nice clothing. They had pulled up their burqas. The children were well behaved and very clean. Not the normal inch of 6 month old crud encrusted skin and dirty, dusty clothing that I’m used to seeing at and around the Police Stations. There was one boy and several girls. One very pretty little girl who was probably around aged 8 or 9 kept staring at me. So I smiled at her. She smiled back and seemed very happy about the interaction. I walked over and gave her a pack of Mentos gum. She gave me a huge, bright smile at that and nodded her thanks. She was seemed too shy to talk. I didn’t want to cause her any embarrassment or cause any concern for her mother or offend any of the Afghani men who were in the “waiting room” with us, so I just smiled at her and walked back over to the Spanish Docs.

About that time, the Dentist came out and called for me. I was first for the torture treatment. I went in. She adjusted my cap. Fiddled around in my mouth for a few minutes. Made a few adjustments to my cap. Fitted it in and made me close my mouth a couple of times. Then she pulled it out. Applied some kind of adhesive to it and re-affixed the cap to my tooth. I had to sit in her office and let the adhesive dry for 50 minutes. After the alloted time, she came back in. Scrubbed around the tooth and cap to make sure all was ok with the fitting and such. Made sure I was good with everything and then she let me go. i thanked her and went back outside to wait for the two guys who came in with me.

When I went back outside, I sat down on the ground in the “waiting area” and started reading the book that I had brought with me. I sat down in the middle of the waiting area about 5 feet away from the group of women and children who were waiting for the Docs. The Afghani men were sitting to the right of me. As I sat and read, the little girl to whom I had given the gum slowly inched her way over. Closer and closer to me. I purposely paid her no attention so as not to spook her. I wanted to see what she would do. So she got about a foot and a half away and sat. Then slowly slid over next to me so she was almost touching me. So close, in fact, that I could feel her breathing on my arm. I was a little surprised. Such a brave child. I looked over and smiled at her. She smiled back. I kept reading. I’m sure that she couldn’t read English. But I made sure that she could see my book. I found myself wishing that I had brought a book with pictures for this circumstance. Would have been cool to show her pictures of other worlds and realities to which she will probably never have access. [A bit of coincidence. I'm reading Caliphate by Tom Kratman. At this point of the book, one of the main characters is a 9 year old Muslim girl. Now, as I come across this character in the book, I see my little Afghani friend.]

One of the Army guys who gave us a ride over showed up and gave the little girl a bag of M&Ms. She smiled up at him in gratitude. It’s always nice to see kids smile when they are given candy or shown a kindness. In those moments, all is right in the world. Small moments that never quite last long enough. I pointed to the M&Ms and told her “chocolate.” She smiled at me. And shyly looked down at her small treasure of candy coated chocolate delights. Then she tore open the bag and the first thing that she did was offer some to me. I refused. Insistently pointing to her and telling her to enjoy her candy. She ate a few while sweetly smiling at me.

I stopped reading and started looking through all of my pockets for something to give her as a gift. Some small token or memento of her encounter with the blonde haired American soldier. Because of the uniform that MPRI has us wear, Afghanis always assume that I’m a soldier. After surveying the inventory of my pockets, I could only come up with one thing that had any meaning at all. I ripped off my name tag and gave it to her and said “naam-e man” which means “my name.” She was the cutest little angel with the sweetest little smile. The whole time she sat next to me, I smelled flowers. Must have been her shampoo as she very nearly had her head on my shoulder the whole time she sat next to me.

Eventually, the Docs came and took her in to take care of her ailments. Before she returned, the guys and I were all finished up. We went to lunch. By the time we finished eating and got back to our vehicle, the little girl and all of the Afghanis were gone.

Little encounters like this one are always magical for me. A few smiles and simple gestures. Yet, a whole world can pass between people in small spaces such as this. Helping to bring a smile to a little girls face is such a priceless experience. I can not quite describe the joy that I derive from these simple moments. I sat there next to that girl and watched her smile and thought of my nieces and every little girl in the world. In moments like these, I feel truly lucky to be able to move about in life as I do. I have experienced so much and met so many great people along the path of my life.

Little girls are made of daisies and butterflies and soft kitty cat purrs And all the precious memories of times that once were.

Little girls are made of angel’s wings and giggles and a firefly’s glow And all the happy feelings, deep inside, that we all know.

Little girls are made of cinnamon and bubbles and fancy white pearls And snowflakes and rainbows and ballerina twirls.

Little girls are made of sunshine and cupcakes and fresh morning dew, And these are the reasons, little one, why everyone loves you.

I didn’t have my camera with me. So I couldn’t take my little friends pictures. These will have to do.

Islam and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Since I’ve been in country, that scene more than any other is universal. A guy with his lady hitting the road on a bike. She might be his sister. His wife. On the rare occasion, she may even be a girlfriend. It’s quite an odd scene. A burqa just doesn’t seem to fit in with the easygoing reputation of motorcyclists. Guys [and gals] on motorcycles are supposed to be rebels. Mavericks. That doesn’t seem to fit with the uptight, dogmatism of which the burqa is symbolic. The Burqa is for the woman anonymity and for the man it is honor. No man should look upon the face of his wife without his permission or it is a stain upon his honor. If the wife looks upon the face of another, that small act dishonors both the man and the wife. Strange thought process, that is. Thankfully, it’s one that is losing favor with the younger generation. Of course, this transformation occurs mostly in the cities. The countryside is still conservative.

Qandahar. Herat. Kabul. Bagram. This blue burqa is ubiquitous throughout the Big A. The first time I saw a burqa on a motorcycle I was a bit taken aback. LIke I said above, it just does not fit. They should all read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It’s a good book and they could use some Zen in Afghanistan to go with their motorcycles.

Egyptian Proverbs and other tales

I was watching the movie Rendition with two Afghani compadres. In the movie, the main character, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, is telling a high ranking Egyptian Ministerial Officer that the interrogation is not working. That the prisoner is just telling them what they want to hear in the hopes of being released. In response, the Egyptian tells Jake Gyllenhaal the following;

In Egypt, we have a saying; “Beat your wife once each morning. If you don’t know why, she does.”

You may have had to have been in the room and/or have a really perverse sense of humor but the three of us just burst out laughing. The three of us are always discussing cultures and history. So there is a kind of understanding between us. It was one of those bonding moments that one looks back to years later.

Two Afghanis and an American in a room in Herat laughing at the utter absurdity of such a statement. I don’t know what made me think of this tonight. But there it is.

A friend of mine [Kenny D] emailed an article about the construction of the ring road and the challenges of uniting the country of Afghanistan by rebuilding the national infrastructure. It was an interesting read and I am very much familiar with the story and the challenges of rebuilding Afghanistan. I’ve been privy to many a story concerning the highways. I’ve heard the stores and reports of the highway bandits and such. I’ve heard about the corruption that is involved in the monies funding the construction. I know victims of the roads and by-ways of Afghanistan. I’ve even indirectly fell victim to these bandits myself.

The email and article were timely. Just that day, I had a humorous conversation with one of my freinds here in Afghanistan named Wahidullah. He has traveled much of Central Asia and, of course, he traveled the Afghan circle of hell. I’ve traveled some of those roads myself.

Hirat to Qandahar to Kabul…the great ring road.

When he got to Qandahar, he bedded down in a motel. (a really rundown and dilapidated travelodge).

Next morning, he awoke. Went about town in Q-har to see about getting something to eat. He asked if there was a milk seller. Finally, he’s pointed to a man holding a stick and standing next to a barrel outside a mud brick building. When he reaches the man he sees that there is some sort of black liquid in the barrel. Wahid asks him if he sells milk. The man says “yes.” Wahid asks “well, where is it?” The milk seller points to the barrel. Wahid asks him; “Where? Where is the Milk?” The milk seller then takes the stick and pokes and stirs the black liquid. Instantly, a thousand flies take flight revealing the milk.

Wahid didn’t have milk that day. He said that he didn’t eat again until the next day when he arrived in Kabul.

This was, of course, during the time of the taliban.

Wahidullah is a walking encyclopedia of entertaining stories about Central Asia and Afghanistan. If I can remember more, I will share them.

Entertaining the Troops!

Bollywood starlet Tania Zaetta

accused of sex with soldiers in

Afghanistan

A Bollywood starlet who made her name going beyond the call of duty in Who Dares Wins, an Australian TV stunt show, has been accused of having sex with soldiers while on a tour to entertain troops in Afghanistan.

Tania Zaetta (above) was named in a confidential briefing paper to Australia’s Defence Minister as having slept with special forces soldiers last month at a military base in Tarin Kowt, the capital of Oruzgan province. Pictures and a video were said to have been taken.

But Australia’s military was in retreat last night, admitting that it broke its privacy regulations by naming the actress, 37, in the confidential note intended for Joel Fitzgibbon, the Defence Minister.

The Defence Department apologised to Zaetta for the leak, and Mr Fitzgibbon said he had ordered an inquiry into how the document — officially referred to as a “hot issues brief” — became public.

Related Links

• Afghanistan troops plea is likely to be ignored

Zaetta, who has appeared on Baywatch and Mission Implausible, a British pay-TV show, denied the allegations and said there had been little opportunity to be alone with any soldier, even if she had wanted to be.

“How does a supposed document . . . that I don’t know about get leaked in the first place — that’s a little bit concerning about the security of the country,” she said.

“It’s complete lies . . . apart from being hurtful, it’s damaging to a woman’s career, to her reputation.” The Government now faces a potential compensation payout after she sought legal advice over the claims, which the document said had been made by Angry Anderson, a veteran Australian rock star and fellow tour performer.

Kevin Rudd, the Prime Minister, reluctantly commented on the scandal, which drew criticism from the opposition conservative Liberal Party over invasion of privacy. “These matters are under investigation within the Defence Department and I will leave it for that investigation to reach its own conclusions,” Mr Rudd said.

Anderson, the bald former frontman for the rock band Rose Tattoo, denied that he had made a complaint.

Another performer said the entertainers had been told that they would breach Defence Force regulations if they fraternised with the troops. “I have heard of quickies but I have never heard of anything that quick . . . a tour like that is hard work,” John Clinton, of the country rock band the Wolverines, said.

Zaetta co-hosted the 1990s television show Who Dares Wins. She has featured in several Bollywood productions including a recent Charlie’s Angels-style hit, Mr. Black, Mr. White.

Too bad she didn’t visit Herat. lol

Ahmad Shah Massoud

done

I was looking for some video of Ahmad Shah Massood. The Lion of Panshjir. When I came across this one, I thought it was pretty funny. I took it to work with me to show the guys. My Afghani crew. They freaked out. At first a couple of them were pretty offended. Their Afghan Pride pricked. The namoos [honor] of the Great Lion of Panshjir stained by such a video. But they loosened up a bit and started to laugh.

After the shock wore off, they told me that it was ok but, “DO NOT SHOW THIS TO YOUR STUDENTS!” They would probably try to strangle me on the spot. Somehow, I don’t doubt it. Massood is the National Hero. Death afforded him that. Had he lived. Politics probably would have destroyed the man. The Russians couldn’t touch him. The Taliban couldn’t defeat him. Al Qaeda took the cowards way out and murdered him through a charade to fool him into letting down his guard.

The man was bigger than life. He was said to have been a brave and brilliant leader and fighter. The stories about him are epic. He is said to have lived modestly. He gave his money to his people. He was a fighter. A strategist. A leader. Some of the Afghans say that he would not have been too keen on American bases in Afghanistan.

I wonder. Would he have considered us an invading force? Would he have fought us? How would history record him in that instance. Many Afghans with whom I have spoken on the subject do not think that Massood would have been so welcoming to us. Some think that he would have turned and made a peace with the Taliban. I’m not so certain. I don’t think he would have done this. But I don’t know. I like to think that he would have become President of a more united Afghanistan.

At any rate. He is the great man in Afghanistan’s modern history. He overshadows all others. Karzai. Dostum. Rabbani. Hekmetyar. None of these men measure up to Massoud to the Afghan people. Drive down any street in Afghanistan. In almost any house and you will see his photo. His photo is on at least 2/3rds of the vehicles that you’ll see driving down the streets of Kabul. He is everywhere. He is a modern day Afghan Odysseus.

done

An Afghan Wedding

Wahid is one of the terps who works with me here in Herat. He’s a pretty laid back guy. We’ve developed a pretty good friendship over the course of the past year. I didn’t always think that such would be the case. So it’s kind of funny to be making that statement. He moonlights at night in Herat as an English teacher. What you see below is the product of 6 months study (and a bit of an attitude…lol) on the part of one of his students. Nether I nor Wahid made correction or edited the piece. This is straight from a 16 year old Afghani male English student.

An Afghan Wedding

In our country Afghanistan, the youths mostly get married in the early ages. And the marriage process has its own traditions and customaries which sometimes make difficulties for the both sides. Comparing to the other countries Afghan people have kept their culture even though it sucks.

Initially the groom’s family propos to the bride’s family through a traditional gathering. They usually do it several times to get the agreement from the bride’s side and in order to become more familiar with them. During the proposing process, the bride’s family investigate to find out more about the reputation of the groom; for example they will check if the groom is a nice guy, he has a good job, he is able to look after his future wife and in the other words if he is healthy and not addicted to the drugs like opium or hashish… At the end if they find out that the groom fits into their family, they will choose him as their future son in law. Then the both sides will be taking care of the wedding traditions. That’s just the beginning of the misery. This misery is definitely pleasant for bride’s side because they get paid really good but poor groom is going to live hand to mouth for the rest of his life.

I read it out loud in our office and everyone burst out laughing. It’s hilarious. And it contains a lot of truth. Reading that passage will give you a good idea of the typical conversation around the office. You kinda have to translate their English along the way. But we have a good time.

We spend a lot of time talking about the cultural differences of our countries. Fawad is another terp in our office. When he first came to work with us, one of the first conversations I had with him was about weddings. He asked me how much it cost to get married in America. I started talking about Weddings and such. But what he was asking about was the dowry. How much for the bride price. In Afghanistan, you have to pay the brides family to marry her. They have a traditional sit meeting called the Nikah where they haggle over the bride price. I’m told that the average is around $5,000.

Another guy who works in my office named Farhad told me that he couldn’t marry the girl that he wanted because his mother refused to participate in the “barbaric practice.” His mother’s words. Not mine. So regardless of Farhad or the girls feelings, they had to break it off. Later, he told me that she was to be married to a guy from Kabul. He was pretty heart broken. But, the girl threatened to kill herself if she was forced to marry. So the wedding was called off.

I’m told that this is common in Afghanistan and Pakistan. A girl being forced to marry someone that she doesn’t want to marry will threaten to commit suicide. Sometimes the wedding is called off. Other times, the father forces the marriage. Sometimes with fatal results.

This is a funny video about attending Afghan weddings.

Here are a few links that give you insight to Afghan Weddings. Good and bad.

Afghan girl in Britain is taken to Afghanistan and Pakistan to find a suitable husband whom she is forced to marry.

Observations from an American (?) Girl at an Afghan Wedding.

Modern Afghan Wedding.

Bamiyan Buddha Afghan Commemerative Stamps

When I was a kid, I collected stamps. So when I came across this little gem, I had to pick it up. These stamps are from the time before the Soviet invasion. The time of King Zahir Shah. The last King of Afghanistan. They’re a link to a time when Afghanistan was at peace with itself. When it’s peoples were mostly just neighbors to one another. Before bin Laden and Mullah Omar. A time before sucide bombers and taliban and ruined cities and foreign occupations. This was a time when Afghans looked on their Western visitors as merely strange figures on whom they visited warm hospitality. It was a time when visitors were considered guests and were treated as such. ‘The pushtoon code meant something and the mehmet was indeed a welcomed and honoured guest whether they were Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist or Jew. Westerners weren’t peace keepers. We weren’t soldiers or policemen or civlian contractors for America or ISAF or NATO soldiers. Westerners were merely visitors with strange behaviors. Strangers who seemed to have an even stranger affinity for opium and hashish. Merchants from the West in search of carpets and tapestries, emeralds and rubies and lapis to sell in their homelands.

Back then, the hippy trail ran through Iran to Herat and on to Kabul. Lone travelers came and left unmolested. The Mustafa Hotel in Kabul gave some respite and a chance to shake off the dust of the road. It still stands and the occasional brave traveler stops there for a night or two until he moves on into Pakistan, Tibet, Nepal and India. I have read that some of the hippy communities still exist in Goa. I’m sure that there are others. Guys who dropped out of the West and traveled to Asia in search of peace or freedom or a final escape.

Afghanistan actually knew peace back in those days. Before the communists came and ruined everything. The King was attempting to make reforms. Give women rights. Construct a constitution. Educate his people and move them into the 20th Century.

What might have been.

So this is a “peace” of that time. A memento as the Afghans like to say. A small reminder that Afghanistan was not always as it finds itself now.

Random Scenes — Kabul

Shave and a hair cut…two bits. Throw in a pair of bootleg tenny’s and call it 5 bucks.

Jesus’ long lost Afghan cousin.

My FRIEND!!! Buy a side of beef from me…MY FRIEND!!!

Building hooches for the Americans.

Faces of Afghanistan

I have been traveling Afghanistan since late 2003. In that time, I have had occasion to get out and meet some of the Afghani people. Most are like any other people anywhere else in the world. They are living. Working. Loving and Dying. Raising families. Building homes. Surviving. Some thriving. Others eeking out an existence begging on the street. I’ve met government officials. Quasi-government officials. Mullahs. Extremely religious folk. People who could care less about religion. And folks in between who have a love for Allah but are neither dogmatic nor careless about their Islamic faith. I’ve met people who are strangers in their own homeland. Those who have returned to Afghanistan after self imposed exile. Those who fled the Russians, the Warlords and the Taliban. Many of these folks have sought to understand the strange, always laughing American in their midst.

I have had some interesting experiences in this country. Most often in Kabul. Kabul is a more liberal part of Afghanistan. Occasionally, an American can actually speak with an Afghani woman in the open. The first time I spoke with an Afghani woman, I kept looking over my shoulder for the religious police to come take her away. An odd thing about Kabul is that the Kabulis stare at me. Everywhere I went in Kabul, it seemed as if all eyes were on me. Also, if a foreigner stops anywhere in Kabul, he is mobbed. People will come up and ask to shake your hand. They’ll give you the double cheek kiss. They’ll attempt to speak English with you. God help you if you have a camera. Everyone in the crowd will want a picture with you. As if they actually expect you to come back and hand them all out. That was fairly comical.

The picture phenomenon is not unique to Kabul. Everywhere I go in Afghanistan, people want me to take their pictures. They will usually ask you to give them a copy. Random strangers who you will never see again will ask to take a picture with you AND request a copy. It’s comical. They all want a momento of the time that they spoke with the American.

I have done my best to give a good impression of Americans. Tried to leave a lasting and positive impression of our people with the Afghanis I have met. I am confident that for the most part I have succeeded. I’m sure on a few occasions, I have failed in this endeavor. Along the way, I have taken photographs of the people with whom I have interacted. In my experience, the peoples of the world are both unique and similar. We have commonalities. Common experiences. Common beliefs. Yet, we also have traits and beliefs that are so dis-similar as to seem almost to have originated in another world. Such is the case with Afghanistan. Many folks over here could pass for Americans if you dressed them in some Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren. Others could only be Afghan–Tajik, Hazara or Pushtoon. The people in these photos live all across this country. In Qandahar, Konduz, Herat, Kabul, Bamian, Mazr-e Sherif, Gardez, Jalalabad.

The pictures below were taken by myself and others. Since I have been coming to Afghanistan, one thing that has been unique to my experience here is the exchange of photographs. I have given CDs full of photos to friends and acquaintances and I have received the same many, many times. I can not claim credit for only a few of the photos below. This is a collection from many travelers over the space of the past 5 or 6 years. We, who have shared a common experience in Afghanistan, have also shared our photos and memories of the experience.

The Faces of Afghanistan:

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Ahmad Shah Massoud — THE face of Afghanistan. He’s the national hero. He’s the closest thing to a universal Afghani as there will likely ever exist.

An NGO Teacher sits with her student.

Schoolgirls in Kabul. Outside the Landmark Hotel.

Of course, this last fellow is a man after my own heart.

If you can’t figure out why, look at his hat.

Voices from Afghanistan

I had gone to the bazaar to buy a movie to watch. They were banned but you could still get them. While I was walking home, a talib stopped me. I had the movie in my hand which was tucked inside my jacket. He asked me what I had in my hand. I told him it was a movie. The talib told me to give him the movie and to come with him. I asked him where we were going. He told me he was taking me to his base. I refused. I told him; “I’m not going to just go with you.” He was carrying a big stick and he started beating me with it. He hit me on the back, across my face, on my head. A few other talibs joined in and beat me until I was bleeding about my head. My nose was busted. They took my movie. They told me that I was lucky and to get home and not to let them see me again.

I was 17 years old at this time. When I got home, I was filthy from the beating. My clothes were rippled. My nose was bleeding and I was bleeding from several cuts and lumps on my back, chest and arms as well. My father asked me what had happened. I told him that the talibs had stopped me and took my movie from me. My father would not let us watch TV or movies after that. He took our DVD player and TV and locked them up.

I was harassed often and beat a few times because my hair was too long. Men were expected to have what you would call a buzz cut. Like your military men wear.

I hated the Taliban.

Anonymous

During the taliban, it was mandatory to go to mosque and pray five times a day. All shops had to close and everyone was expected to attend the mosque prayers. On this day, the muezzin had made the call to salaat (prayer). In those days, the talibs had religious police who walked around and made sure men had short hair, their beards were a fist length, women were escorted by a male family member among other things AND that everyone was in Mosque for salaat and adhan (Friday prayer). My father was old and sickly. So he could not move very fast. As he was finishing locking up his shop, a group of talis approached him. They asked him why he was not at Mosque for prayers. Before he could answer, they started to beat him. I heard his cries and ran out. I attacked them and yelled at them to leave my father alone. They stopped beating my father and started to attack me.

They beat me and then took me away to their headquarters. They kept me there for 3 days and each day they came in and hit me with sticks and their fists. The talibs would beat you if your hair was too long. They would beat you if your beard was not long enough. If a woman was caught out alone, they would beat her. If you were caught with any banned item, they would beat you. Sometimes, they would beat people for a simple glance in their direction. Sometimes, people would be taken away. Some returned. Some didn’t.

I was held 3 times for run ins with the talibs. Finally, my father sent me out of the country. First I was smuggled across the border to Iran. They caught me and sent me back to Afghanistan. My Father then sent me to Turkmenistan. I was caught there and expelled. Eventually I made my way to Russia where I stayed for a couple of years until the American Army came and kicked the taliban out.

My younger brothers were all illiterate because of the talibs. They would only let us read Qu’ran.

I hate those bastards.

Anonymous

Those are but two of the stories out of millions of lives in Afghanistan. They were both a little foolish and lucky and brave to challenge the talibs in such a manner. Thankfully they weren’t taken out and murdered by those savages. I can’t give their names here. There are still parts of Afghanistan are still threatened by the taliban, al Qaeda and banditry.

While the taliban was terrorizing Afghanistan, they burned whole villages in the Hazara districts. The Hazara are members of the Shi’a sect of Islam. They are said to be descendents of Genghis Khan. I have read that geneticists have confirmed this. The talibs consider all Shi’a apostates. From what I can gather, the Iranians supplied the Hazara with arms and training during the talib reign. Even so, the taliban destroyed several villages in the Hazara districts murdering or displacing thousands. The Bamian Buddha were in the Hazara lands. The idiot talibs destroyed those national treasures with dynamite. The buddhas had stood mute witness to history for thousands of years. They had seen Genghis Khan, Babur, Tamerlane. They had seen Massoud and Rabbani fight the Soviets and so much more. Now, they are no more. Niches in the cliffs are all that remain.

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This victim of the taliban was not so lucky.

Driving in Afghanistans Capital City — Kabul

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A few days before I left Kabul in September 2006, I decided to take one last tour of the city. Kabul has to be experienced to be believed. One must live there. Awaken there. Sleep there. Breath in it’s polluted, dusty air. Hear the sounds of it’s loud cacophonous symphony of madness. As foreign a city as a Westerner will ever experience, it’s a smaller, more chaotic version of Cairo, Egypt. Traffic makes no sense. Mass transit is a hazard to your health. Millie Buses will run out in front of anything and the black smoke that blows from the exhaust will both blind and asphyxiate you. People are always out in traffic. Yellow Taxi’s will run you off the road. UN convoys or Embassy Convoys drive as if they own not only the roads but the city as well. Plus, you have the bonus sensation of never knowing when an IED or suicide bomber might decide to make it your lucky day. Blue Burqas everywhere. Beggers and other street people standing in the middle of the road. Kids with “lucky smoke cans.” Armed guards are everywhere. Stopping traffic so that their boss may safely exit and enter traffic. The security forces of Embassy officials will shoot at you if you come too close. General Dostum and other Afghani officials security will run you off the road. Afghani police at various junctures will attempt to stop you and extort monies from you. I’ve seen Afghani being pulled out of their vehicles by local police. Trash dumps surrounded by goats and children at random junctures throughout the city. There is no rhyme and certainly no reason to the city. The only certainty is that you will be confronted with chaos, corruption and poverty at every instant. The only other constant is Islam. For good or bad, Islam reigns supreme with it’s burqas, muezzins, mullahs and mosques.

This city and it’s peoples are still in recovery from the past 30 years of war and catastrophe.

Kabul is madness. Pandemonium. “Pure pandalirium!” as Jeff Foxworthy might say.

Even so, I’ve always been a bit stir crazy and can’t stay confined to a safe house, hotel or base camp for too long without losing my sanity.

Kabul has it’s charms. I can’t count the times that a traffic cop has asked me to pull over and have tea with him. People smile at you on the streets if you venture out enough. Babur’s Gardens. Wazir Akhbar Khan District. The Serena and Intercontinental Hotels. Chicken Street must be experienced to be believed.

Ror–the cat who replaced me–had asked me to take him on a ride to show him around Kabul. Best places to shop. Places of interest such as Massoud Circle, Kabul International Airport, a couple of good restaurants…and other places that might be “fun” to hang out. The way to Camp Eggers and the US Embassy Compound.

So, off we went. Our vehicle was nondescript. Nothing out of the ordinary. I kept it dirty on purpose because Afghani vehicles are universally dust covered. Kabul is a dusty city. The only clean vehicles are Coalition, UN or US owned. I didn’t want to stand out in that manner. Become a target for a bicycle borne IED. Not my idea of a good day. Additionally, I try to drive exactly like the Afghanis. They drive wildly. No rhyme or reason. No real traffic laws. There aren’t any traffic signal lights or signs. The only traffic control are the cops in the circles and they are universally ignored.

It’s always an adventure on the road in the capital city.

I took Ror to see Chicken Street where you can buy every and anything from real and forged Greek coins to Chinese Rugs being sold as Persian Rugs to sapphires, rubies and emeralds to actual (illegal) Persian Rugs. It’s a great place to find a bargain. But because of the influx of foreigners the bargains are becoming more and more difficult to come by these days.

We swing by the U.S. Embassy, ISAF HQ and Camp Eggers…Massoud Circle….Kabul Airport and various other places such as Wazir Akhbar Khan District with it’s underground drinking establishments and the beautiful (and some not so beautiful) “waitresses” of the Chinese “Restaurants.” Then we get lost. I make a turn into a part of Kabul in which I had never ventured. We wound up lost for about a 1/2 hour. Eventually, I get my bearings and we cruise back to Camp Phoenix.

Later, when I return to Afghanistan with MPRI, I will stay in the Safi-Landmark hotel. This just happens to be in the area in which Ror and I were lost that day.

The Taliban

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Above is a Taliban training and campaign video. I edited out the end portion of it because it was a series of snuff videos of the Taliban executing their prisoners by sawing off their heads with a rather dull looking knife. It was quite disturbing and the Talibanis seemed to be enjoying themselves a bit too much while yelling “Allahu Akhbar!” The Taliban are some disgustingly ignorant folks.

I was told that this video came from the south near Qandahar or possibly Helmand province. The South has the highest concentration of Taliban. Coincidentally, it also has the highest population of poppy farms. The Taliban are financing their holy war with drug money in much the same manner that the Chi-Coms financed their war with the opium trade.

Buzkashi — A Burden in my Hand — Soundgarden

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Burden In My Hand

by Soundgarden

I took the Afghani music out and laid on some Soundgarden. I like this music with the video. It’s grittier. Edgier. The original video has an Afghani fellow riding through the competition singing and looking like an Afghani version of Jolly old Saint Nick. He doesn’t fit and neither does his singing. I edited him out of both versions. He looked a bit ridiculous to me. The song is hagiography about the champions of the game.

Enjoy.

On another off note. The nets been down here for the past few days. Apparently, the Coalition forces in Herat like to surf porn. The US Army Command decided that the best way to get the puritanical “no porn ” point across to the Italians and Spanish is to shut down the internet across the board. No one could use the net period because the US is uber-interested in sexual purity and the Spaniards and Italians are…well, they’re just interested in sex.

Gotta love the U.S. Army and it’s puritan streak and the US Army’s willingness to shove that puritan streak down it’s allies throats on the sly. GO ARMY! lol

In plain English, there were several Italian and Spanish porn sites being visited on the internet. Rather than confront the Spanish and Italians on the sensitive subject, the US Army Command in Kabul decided to punish everyone in Herat across the board and shut the internet down for 3 or 4 days. Nothing like a little bit of classic Army mass punishment to get the point across to the people who already got the point. Of course, this is the 2nd time that this has occurred and the Coalition Forces likely don’t understand that they are violating any rules (you know, since no one had the balls to tell them). So it will occur again and again until someone in the US Command gets the moral and political courage to confront the Italians and Spanish about it.

Reminds me of Camp Phoenix when the Garrison Commander told the Brits that they could no longer bring alcohol onto the post. The Brits told him to go to hell and moved off of Camp Phoenix that week. It’s very important to the U.S. Army in Afghanistan that the Adults in it’s forces not imbibe. Can’t offend those Muslims. Half of whom drink themselves. I can’t count the times that an Afghani ANP officer has offered me a drink.

Gotta love America and the Army. They take the fun out of everything. They’ll send you to fight in the land of Islam and you better die sober…(and with your seat belt on or no insurance money for your spouse). These are the laws and rules as handed down by the U.S. Congress. All of whom violate these same laws when they travel to these areas.

Brit Commander; “You Yanks certainly know how to run a war but you sure don’t know how to have fun with one.”

Buzkashi — the Sport of Central Asian Steppes and Afghanistan

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Traditional Afghan Music

Gather up a group of Nomads from the North of Afghanistan. Throw in a decapitated dead goat and 40 or 50 highly prized horses. You’ve got Buzkashi. Literally, “dead goat.”

The goal of the game is for the rider to grab the goat, carry it from one pole to the other and then throw it in the circle at the center of the field.

I was given this video by an Afghani friend who lived in Mazr-e Sherif for a number of years. He’s lived and worked all over the north of Afghanistan with coalition forces. He’s attended the game several times and says it is an exciting spectacle. He confirmed the stories that I have heard about the riders being injured, maimed and killed during competition. Riders have been knocked from their horse and trampled to death in the midst of the game. The horses are specially bred and trained for the sport. They have to be able to stop on a dime, bend down and allow their rider to grab the goat and then take off at a full gallop from the standstill.

Incredible horses. Amazing riders.

They say that these competitions can last for days. Often more than a week. Leaving both horse and rider exhausted and more often than not with several injuries–broken bones and bloody Gashes.

If you wish, you can learn more about this game here — Buskashi.

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In and Around Kabul

These are photos that I have taken in and around Kabul over the past couple of years. Kabul is a bit dangerous. It’s also a fun place. I have never had a bad experience in the city. Chicken Street is a riot even if it is a bit pricey these days. City Centre is a nice place to have a cup of coffee on the roof and survey the city. The Kabul Coffee House is a great place for an Ice Mocha with other ex-pats. Night time at Wazir Akhbar Khan Line 15 is a great place to dance the night away or have a few drinks and check out all of the femme ex-pats, Chinese hookers or Filipina gals. The Marco Polo Restaurant is good for excellent Italian cuisine. Some of the Chinese Restaurants actually serve chinese food. lol

I do know of people who have had terrible experiences there. One friend of mine was beaten badly in a roust of the local underground clubs. The “police” took him outside and beat him until his ribs were bruised black and blue. Then took him to their “police station” and kindly accepted a couple hundred dollars for his release. During this same raid, a group of Filipina girls were taken out and raped repeatedly. This set off a huge international incident. The Chinese “Restaurants” are raided about once every three months. Any place that sells alcohol is subject to being raided by one faction or another. Womens Beauty salons can be raided at any time if they are accused of being houses of prostitution. The accusation of prostitution can stem from an incident as simple as a local Mullah walking by and hearing loud laughter. Police at checkpoints will attempt to bribe you for a 20 spot to pass through their territory. This is easily defeated by stating loudly and aggressively that you are US Army and not backing down. This works as I’ve used it. The local police are scared to death of the US Army. Now that I train them and am on cheek kissing terms with the local Regional Commander, I’m pretty much untouchable. Not that I go off post alone these days. Since being hired by this new company and moving to the West, it’s UAV MILCON or nothing. Can’t go wrong in an armored vehicle.

This place wasn’t always so terrifying and violent. Before the Taliban, before the War of the Warlords. Back when the King was attempting to enact liberal reforms. Kabul was a haven for dope smoking hippies. That was the 60s and 70s. Kabul was also a Euro holiday spot. Places like Mazar-e Sherif, Ghazni and Herat, even Q’andahar, were tourist spots as well. Of course, that all came to a screeching halt when the Soviets came crashing in to install peace and prosperity at the tip of the communist sword. Back in 2006. As I was driving around, I did see a few tourist running around. I saw a couple of backpackers in September of 2007 sneaking around Kabul and I’ve heard of the occasional tourist and backpacker passing through Herat since I’ve been here. It will be years before the tourists come back in any respectable numbers due to the terror element. Such a shame. There is much to be seen and much to experience in Afghanistan.

Jalalabad Road

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This is Jalalabad Road. As the name implies, it’s the primary road from Kabul to Jalalabad. When I first arrived in the capital, it was not terribly dangerous in the explosive sense. It was and still is a dangerous place to drive from the perspective that Afghans are horrendous drivers. One need not be licensed to drive. One need only be able to afford a vehicle. But you didn’t have to look over your shoulder for suicide bombers. I think there were 5 or 6 hits in 2006. These days, the road gets hit 2 or 3 times in a month and Kabul will get hit a couple more times. Most of it aimed at Afghan forces. Mainly the ANP. By hit, of course, I’m talking about IEDs, VBIED, even bike born IEDs. Yes, these idiots will strap a bomb on their back, jump on a bike and aim themselves at an armoured vehicle.

The road is always in bad shape. When I was in the Capital three months ago, it was not much more than two mud tracks. Now they’ve paved it nicely. It may last a while in it’s new and improved incarnation. I suppose that depends on how many IEDs explode on it.

As you cruise down Jalalabad Road heading away from Kabul, you’ll pass most of the Major Afghan Military installations. It’s equivalent to Arlington, VA or Route 50 where you have 8th and I, the Pentagon, Fort Meyer, Arlington National Cemetery, the Hoffman Building and a whole host of other important US Military installations and buildings.

This video was taken back in August of 2006. I was preparing to leave Afghanistan to take a position in Kuwait. I was getting stir crazy so I decided to take my replacement on a tour of the local area. I took him to a Ciano Supermarket. Those guys had booze at that time. You had to ask for it and you had to be a non-National. You could get all the Jack Daniels you wanted but no Maker’s Mark. There are also a few places down in Wazir Akhbar Khan where you could get a drink or two at that time as well–Paradise, The Silk Road, Crazy 8s, 999 and a few others. You could pretty much get anything you want in the Wazir Akhbar Khan District. You can even spend the night with a little rented company if that’s your thing.

Alas, this is no more. All of the Cianas were shut down. There was a huge crack down on all of the underground funhouses. Some have been re-opened. But they aren’t near as entertaining as they used to be. You used to be able to go out and dance the night away. Now, it’s rare to find one of these places with enough patrons to make an impression.

Also, because of all of the recent bombings, US Forces Command and many of the Companies that hire for work over here have put Kabul, and by extension, all of these places off limits. NATO still frequents them as do many employees from your smaller companies in Kabul. Kabul is not quite the quiet backwater that it once was. At least once a week, you hear of some incident in the capital city. Suicide bombings, local nut jobs, IEDs. They say some of these cats are passing through Iran from Iraq to get here to spread their special brand of hell. You hear rumors. Never know what is complete truth and what is mere chaff in the wind.

It’s always exciting here. Enjoy the vid.

That’s me driving and a billboard of the tea that is a daily part of every Afghani’s life. Imagine the injustice of putting her in a burqa.

Afghanistan Scenes

These are four of my favorite scenes from Afghanistan.

I, actually, abhor the Burqa. Even so, this is a compelling and somewhat haunting photo. I’d love to have been the person who originally took this photo. What is the story of this womans life. What are her dreams. What came of her after this photo was taken. Is she still alive. Did she make it out of Afghanistan. Did she live through the Soviets, the Taliban, the Warlords and to the invasion of the Americans after the World Trade Center travesty. I’ve taken hundreds of photos of women hidden behind the ubiquitous blue burqa of Afghanistan. I find it abhorrent that these women are forced to wear this horrid mass of natty cloth. Afghan men believe that it is a stain on their honor for other men to see the face of their wife. And it is a mortal crime for a woman to be seen looking at another man. In this quirky, Islamic land, women are far from free. Women who talk to foreign men are accused of prostitution, whoredom and anything else that an Afghani man can conjure in his weak mind. It’s really quite disgusting.

There are some free thinking persons here. I’ve met some awesome young people here who want to change their country but who are fearful and feel powerless to bring about real change. It is difficult to find fault in their fear. Afghanistan is a dangerous and violent land. Vengeance is a reality of life here. Insurgents. Bandits. Taliban. Opium gangs and druglords abound. Mullahs are the real force of governance in the districts. Each District has a Governor appointed in Kabul who may or may not be more powerful than the local Talib “shadow” Governor or Mullah. Afghanistan is a land out of time. I sometimes feel as though I am in a tale out of the Pirates of the Caribbean genre.

This post card is a group of Afghani tribesmen playing Bozkashi–the traditional game of Afghanistan. Afghanistan’s National past time. The taliban outlawed this game during their reign of terror. This exhausting game is played from horseback. The first horse rider to pick up the dead goat and carry it to the goal line and pitch it across wins. The game has been known to last for more than a week at a time. The champions of this game are famous throughout Afghanistan in much the same manner as Tom Brady, Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan are in the US. It’s a gruesome game that takes much endurance and strength to play. Contestants are regularly killed in the midst of competition.

The picture above is the main entrance to the Grand Mosque or Friday Mosque (Masjid-i Jami) in Herat. This magnificent and ancient structure was built in 1200 AD. It has stood witness to the wrath of Jinghis Khan as well as the regions other great conqueror–Timur the Lame. It stood in silent witness to the savagery of the Taliban. It stands today as an inspirational testament to the longevity of a city that has survived since the time of Alexander the Great. I’ve been to the great Mosque once. Though I was not able to enter or get close enough for a long enough time to snap my own photo. Hopefully, I will get my chance before I take my permanent leave of Herat. It truly is a beautiful Mosque.

Above is the Minaret of Jam. This structure is of uncertain origin. Though, it is thought to be of Ghorid origin. On it’s outer wall is inscribed the Qur’anic Surat which relates the Islamic version of the story of Mary mother of Jesus. Jesus is recognized as a prophet by Islam. Although, Muhammad is THE prophet. The last prophet of Allah. The minaret is 65 meters tall and sits between the Hari Rud and Jam rivers. It was built sometime between 1174 and 1195 AD.

These are four of my favorite pictures from Afghanistan. I have thousands of photos that I’ve taken of Afghanistan and it’s various vistas and Afghani life and culture and hundreds more that I have been given by friends and acquaintances over the years. I’ll post the some of the best of those as well. I hope you enjoy these.

Afghan Police Physical Fitness

Now, y’all don’t laugh too hard.

I almost fell down I was laughing so hard the first time I saw this. I have watched the Afghans do various types of physical training. It is almost always hilarious.

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I watched one group doing baton/riot training. They had one old guy in the back who was constantly out of sync. I tried not to laugh at that guy. I had to leave the scene so as not to laugh in his face. It was hilarious.

This video is typical for Afghans. They aren’t a coordinated bunch. Even so, they can be some of the most ferocious fighters on the planet.

An Afghani entertains the US Special Forces

Somewhere near the Pakistani border…

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