The Media: How Do They Get It So Wrong? ALL THE TIME!

Camp Phoenix, on the outskirts of Kabul, is run by US forces, with some NATO member nations maintaining a presence there.

It is also a base for the Afghan army, which is being trained by international forces in the hope it can take over the responsibility for fighting the Taliban insurgency.

The camp occasionally comes under attack, mostly from rocket and mortar fire, though without casualties.

Camp Phoenix has never been mortared.  It’s never been rocketed.  Not while I was there.  Not while I was at Camp Eggers and not in the past 3 years.  I’d know.  I lived at Camp Phoenix for one year.  I lived on Camp Eggers for a year as well and visited Phoenix frequently.  I’ve been to Camp Phoenix several times over the past 3 years as well.  I have friends at Camp Phoenix right now.  One who has been there for 3 years.

Camp Phoenix has never been a training base for Afghans either.  Not the ANA or the ANP.  There are two Camps about ten miles down the road called Camp Blackhorse and the Kabul Military Training Complex (KMTC).  Afghans are trained there.  Afghans are trained at Darulaman and there are 2 or three ANP training bases within and around Kabul on which ANP are trained.

I see this happening all the time.  The Associated Press (AP) picks up a story written by some idiot who never leaves the safe confines of his hotel room or villa in Shahr-e Naw or Wazir Akhbar Khan.  These morons report as if they are on the scene.  They mix up place and location.  They hack together stories based on second hand information and pawn it off on the public as gospel truth.  The guy who wrote this story should be fired.  He printed a hand full of lies and sent it in as if he had actually visited the places about which he wrote.  A bunch of older hacks will probably award this poltroon a  Pulitzer and they’ll all sit around in a smoke filled chamber and congratulate each other on their bravery and literary brilliance.

I’ve seen this kind of irresponsible writing of lies and half truths all over the globe.  Korea when Kim Il Sung died.  When Qandahar was attacked.  In Kabul after various attacks.  In Herat after suicide bombings.  From whom do these morons obtain their “facts?”  Dr. Suess?  The Brothers Grimm?  Hanna- Barbera?  Does anyone back home in America fact check or edit their hotel room ramblings?

I read the newspaper and online journals and I often wonder if these folks are even in country.  What happened to reporting from the front?  These guys are reporting from the whorehouse or from the tea parlor.  They’re definitely NOT on the scene.  Not here in Afghanistan.  I can assure you of that.

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?

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!!!

About set for my Holiday

Today, I flew from Herat to Kabul.  It’s the first leg of the journey that will be this holiday. From here, I fly to Dubai.  I’ll spend a day there and then fly to the States.

I was so excited to be starting my vacation that I couldn’t sleep last night.  I finally drifted off at about 4:15 AM and had to be up at 5:30 AM.  I jumped up when the alarm clock went off and grabbed my bags and my body armor.  I had to be at the convoy SP area at 5:50 AM.  I got over there with 7 minutes to spare.  Just enough time to run to the DFAC to grab a quick sandwich and some fruit.

The SECFOR took me to the airport where I had to wait for another hour before any signs of life became evident at the civilian side of Hirat Airport.  I was meeting Farhad there at 7:15 so that he could walk me through any problems that might arise.  But I rarely have any problems in Afghanistan.  I just started talking in my meager, “pigeon” Dari and smiling and joking and laughing with folks and I pretty much get away with murder.  I’ve yet to be required to check my bags in Hirat.  They police have always taken care of it for me.  This time, they told me that I could just wait at the terminal and they’d make sure everything went ok.  It helps that I wear the uniform of the US Army.  But usually it’s my easy laugh that gets me through everything with such ease.

This morning when I walked over to the civilian terminal from the ISAF side, several of the ANP Border or Customs Police had little Mississippi pins on their uniforms.  Someone came through and gave several out to the Border Police.  I tolk them that I’d have to rectify that and bring some Kentucky pins back with me to share with them.

In the Airport this morning, there were several women sans burqa.  And some of them were very pretty.  One was Victoria Secret’s model gorgeous.  It was difficult to NOT keep looking her way.  I certainly can’t stare at or check out women in a place where almost all eyes are on me.  I’ve grown accustomed to it but Afghanis stare at me like I’m from Mars.  All the time.  I think it’s funny.  I say hi to everyone.  And laugh about it.

I spent the two hours waiting for my flight talking to the Airport Commander and his officers.  Several of them, I recognized from my time at FDD.  So I used that to start conversations.  Usually I didn’t need to start talking as they were all pretty keen to talk to me.  Or rather to talk to the American fellow with the loud laugh.  One of the Captains explained to me the security features of the terminal and showed me the contraband room.  Drawers full of matchbooks and lighters and sprays and even a couple of jerry cans of fuel.  Afghans attempt to bring some odd things onto Airplanes with them.  Another guy.  A LTC.  He gave me his Field Training Officer badge to wear on my uniform.  This same fellow allowed me to board the plane in advance of the other passengers.  That was quite convenient.

There were several children in the terminal awaiting flights.  I had taken some fruit and pop tarts from the DFAC.  I gave most of it away to the children.  A couple of apples and a banana.  One little girl was crying loudly. I took the banana and gave it to her mother.  I figured most kids love bananas.  It might help. Eventually, she ate the banana and stopped crying.  I gave another little girl a pack of gum.  When I got to Kabul, I gave a couple cute little boys some candy that the Chaplain had given me earlier in the week.  I love getting the smiles in return and the shy little “tashakors” in reply.

Of course, I took the first seat next to the exit when I got on the airplane.  It was a full flight so an Afghani fellow sat next to me.  I could tell that he was confused by my uniform.   I’m obviously American.  Yet, I’ve got Afghani patches and badges all over my unifrorm.  I laughed as I listened to his friend explain it to him.  I could understand pieces of their conversation.

Eventually, I pulled out my iPod.  I watched some videos while I waited for the airplane to take off.  My neighbor was fascinated.  He stared at my iPod like it was magical.  So, of course, I played the videos that I have that have the sexiest women.  Shakira Hips Don’t Lie and La Tortura.  That kind of thing.  I don’t think the guy blinked.

After the plane was safely in the air and we were on our way to Kabul, I put the iPod in my pocket and dozed off.  I was awakened 90 minutes later and told that we were about to land.  Thank God they woke me.  We landed so hard that I’m sure I would have panicked and thought we were crashing had I been asleep.

We hit the ground hard.  HARD.  Then twisted left and right until they pilot got it all under control.  It seemed to me that he took an inordinate amount of time to slow as well.  That’s Ariana for ya.  I’ve heard that they are a bit wild as far as Afghani Airlines go.

We landed.  Boarded a blue bus for the terminal.  Once inside the terminal at Kabul, it is pure madness at the luggage carousel.  There is one baggage carousel.  People coming from Herat, Teheran, new Delhi, Dubai, Qandahar and other places.  Chaos ensues as everyone attempts to get their bags.  There are no signs or announcements.  Just bags flying off the carousel and people crowding forward in an attempt to get their bags or just close enough to see if their bags are coming along.  It’s pretty insane.

After you get your bags, you have to show your baggage claim tickets to exit the area.  Next, you walk over to the practically unmanned x-ray machine to have your bags checked by these wholly “professional” souls.  They barely pay any attention.  Grab your bags on the other end and you are free.

My ride was waiting for me in Parking Lot 3.  So I had a ways to walk.  I walk out of the Kabul Pax Terminal and the sun smacks me in the face.  Then I have to walk through Parking Lot 2 and on to PL3.

Parking Lot 3 is also the waiting area for flights.  A few months ago, it was an open area.  No shelter.  Nothing.  You waited for your flight in the rain, snow, sun, cold or heat.  So basically, you called ahead and arrived no earlier than one hour before boarding.  I waited out there for 3 hours in the hot September sun last year.  I just read a book.  Luckily, it doesn’t rain often in Kabul.

To get to my ride, I had to pass through hundreds of folks who were either waiting to board or waiting for friends, family and colleagues arriving from around the globe.  Of course, I got a hundred confused looks because of my uniform and Afghani police insignia.  I just kept moving and laughing.  Finally, I got through the crowds and Arif was waiting for me on the other side.

I threw my bags in his vehicle and he drove me home to the safehouse.

Now, I’m waiting for my flight to Dubai.  Dubai.  That’s when the fun begins…

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.

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.

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.