Afghanistan ’08- Days 10-12
Day ten we were back in Bagram for our last scheduled show. It was our biggest show, unfortunately it was also our worst. About 10 minutes in, airplanes started taking off and helicopters circled overhead. I’m not kidding, it went on almost constantly and stopped right after the show ended. I swear the pilots in Bagram must hate us or something. Every time we try to get a flight out of Bagram it’s delayed for some reason or another but as soon as we start a show, they’re taking off right and left. It wasn’t a bad show but some bits got lost in the noise so the tour didn’t end on the high note we would have liked (click here to read a military article about the show).
When the show ended, I was told that check in for our departing flight would be at 4:45 am so I opted to stay up the whole night. I was hanging out in the MWR office watching CNN when a commercial came on. Out here they don’t show regular commercials, it’s all military propaganda or public service announcements. They’re usually so poorly written and performed that I find myself laughing at the end of them, even when they deal with serious topics. This particular “commercial” was actually pretty interesting and dealt with boxer Joe Lewis who joined the army during WWII and how he recruited other high profile black men and helped them get into Officers’ Candidate School. While the segment was playing, one of the guys in the room said something like, “I don’t understand why those famous guys give up everything to go to war- they usually end up dead.” No sooner did he say that than CNN cut into the Lewis profile with “Breaking news!” that Prince Harry had been here in Afghanistan for the last 10 weeks. I never did catch the end of the Joe Lewis story. Leave it to British royalty to upstage a black man- and on the last day of Black History Month no less.
I showered, packed and checked email until 4:45, at which point I learned that the flight was delayed and the next check in would be at 9 am. That turned into 3 pm. In the meantime, I hit the Bagram bazaar and bought some worthless junk- but at great prices! At 6 pm we were finally ushered into the customs area. In Customs we had to empty everything from our bags into little cubicles.
On each cubicle was a list of forbidden items and one in particular caught my eye- human body parts. I just love that someone thought that needed to be mentioned on the list. Maybe there was an incident where some guy had an extra head in his bag and he argued that “It wasn’t on the list- how was I supposed to know I couldn’t carry it with me?” and they had to let him go. They offer ten minutes of amnesty for disposing of illegal items and I asked if that applied to the human body parts and I was told it does, so keep that in mind- if you ever need to dispose of a body, save yourself the hassle of digging a hole and bring it to Customs instead.
After the inspection, we were sequestered for eight hours before our flight. A half an hour after our planned departure time, we were told there was another problem with the plane and we were released until later that afternoon. It seems like half my time in Afghanistan was spent at the Bagram air terminal. And compared to the soldiers, we had it pretty good. Because of our civilian ranking we were considered “distinguished visitors” and therefore did all our waiting in a private room with comfy couches, a color tv and a private bathroom. Most soldiers dealing with delays had to sit in the general waiting area on regular chairs. They did have a flat screen tv on which to watch movies, but it seemed like all the movies they played were war movies- as if they need that constant reminder!
Well, after two days of delays, we finally boarded a C-17 plane to Kyrgyzstan (to which everybody I know says, “Kyrgy-where?” It’s the southern part of the former Soviet Union). I thought my waiting days were done and I was on my way to Paris but little did I know the waiting had just begun…
Time Flies When You’re Having Fondue
Well, it only took nine days before I dropped the ball on my travel diary. I blame it mostly on difficult Internet access but there was also laziness on my part. I’ll start getting the rest of my tales and pictures up over the next few days.
Afghanistan ’08- Days Eight and Nine
This morning we flew back to Bagram then caught a flight to Jalalabad. This first picture is of the airport just outside the base limits and the second is an aerial view of the first grass I’ve seen since I’ve been here. If you look closely you can see that every section of land is cordoned off by a wall- it’s like that all over Afghanistan. Some of these lots have properties on them but most don’t and I can’t quite figure out why so many barren sections of land have walls around them.
On some flights they ask us what our blood type is. That’s it- passport and blood type. I don’t think there’s any good reason why anybody needs to know my blood type, sort of the way I can’t think of any bad reason why someone needs to know the size of my ring finger. Then when I tell them my blood type is AB negative they say, “Oooh, I never hear that one.” That definitely can’t be good. Whatever their reason is for asking, I’m inclined to believe there’s safety in numbers when it comes to blood type. I guess I’ll just have to hope it’s never essential information.
Last night we were told our departure from Jalalabad would probably be in the afternoon so I stayed up late attempting to get online. Around 2 am I finally hit the sack. Three hours later there was pounding on my door telling me my flight was leaving in a few minutes. The military just loves to keep you on your toes.
Luckily the flight was a short one and we arrived at Salerno less than an hour later and I crashed for the rest of the day. Most of the bases have bazaars hosted by the Afghans on Fridays but I learned that Salerno has a daily one. When I awoke I headed over to it only to find it had closed just 15 minutes earlier. The area was nearly deserted except for one soldier and an Afghan national kicking back on lounge chairs. The soldier asked if I was wearing a pareo, a term that tipped me off to the fact that he’s a Hawaii boy. I joined them and we talked about Hawaii and told the local how beautiful everything there is. I’m sure that’s just what a guy with virtually no hope of ever visiting America, much less Hawaii, wanted to hear. I need to be a bit more careful about comments that could be construed as “rubbing it in.” I do the same thing when I meet mothers who have infants at home. They probably don’t need to hear me say, “Oh- that must be so difficult,” but I haven’t figured out how to put a positive spin on that one. Perhaps I should go the “at least you don’t have to change any diapers” route.
After soaking up the sun for awhile, the soldier and the Afghan invited me over to a bread shop for some tea and non (sp?), which is the local bread. At first they suggested I ride in a car with the Afghan dude but even I had enough sense to figure out that probably wasn’t a good idea for either one of us. Maybe it wasn’t even a good idea to ride with the Hawaii boy but he was pretty good looking so even if he got out of line, I wouldn’t have put up a struggle.
The bread shop is a rickety little building on base that contains a few items for sale and one table where I sat with the soldier and three Afghans and ate some cinnamon non. Once again, it was great talking to some locals. They echoed comments the interpreter made a few nights earlier about how the people feel safer having us (the American soldiers, not the comedians) here and how our troops are rebuilding their communities and teaching them the skills so that they can continue that growth on their own. I’m well aware that the nationals I’ve spoken to are benefiting mightily by the American dollar so perhaps their opinions aren’t representative of the average citizen but speaking with them has reminded me that we’re not just here for war but for humanitarian reasons as well.
When it was time to take off they told me my non was on the house. Normally I’m a big fan of free shit but it’s kind of hard to accept it in a nation where the average monthly income is $45. So I left them some cash and headed out then noticed the sign outside that said, “Eat here at your own risk.” Later I noticed that the Afghan in the picture copped a feel so he made out pretty well on the deal. At least my dad can take some joy in adding to his “Middle Eastern men who have groped my daughters” picture collection. Yeah, my sister also fell victim to some guys in turbans with wandering hands- and her grin was even bigger than mine.
Salerno is located about five miles from the Pakistan border and the soldiers haven’t been shy about mentioning that it suffers mortar attacks on nearly a weekly basis. Because it’s such a hotspot (as is Jalalabad), there are no street lights on at night. I was told that only colored flashlights can be used because the enemy can see white ones. Meanwhile, the tent where we were to perform was lit up like the Fourth of July. All that was missing was a bullseye under the microphone stand. A lot of the guys don’t carry any lights so it’s like Night of the Living Dead with bodies suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Right before the show, the guy in charge told me it might be a short show because they’d just fired a bunch of Afghan workers and that tends to piss people off then he opened the show with an instructional on what to do/where to go in the event of a mortar attack. Way to get the crowd pumped before a comedy show. The show went off without any incident and in the morning we head back to Bagram for our final show.
Afghanistan ’08- Days Six and Seven
Yesterday we rode in a convoy back to Bagram then hopped on a plane to Kandahar. Kandahar is farther south than the other bases we’ve been to and the daytime weather was in the 70’s so I was able to trade my heavy coat for my sarong and flip flops. I’m sure all the soldiers in their heavy gear hated me. I was given a driving tour of the base by some of the MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation) folks. They’re the ones who organize the shows and are sort of stuck babysitting us while we’re on their base. The highlight of the tour was their poop lake. Yes, it’s literally a lake of poop and as pleasant as it was in mild weather, I’m sure it’s fully ripe in summer’s 140 degree temperatures. Rumor has it that some Romanians swam across it for $500 but the Americans I asked all agreed they wouldn’t do it for less than $100K.
On the outskirts of the base are some trashed buildings where some Afghan nationals still live. We drove by it just slow enough for a six-year-old girl to open the door of our SUV. For all I know it was a suicide-bomber training exercise but luckily she wasn’t packing any heat.
Today we were up bright and early to catch a flight to Bagram then another one to Jalalabad (which is poised to overtake “falafel” as my favorite word). The way things work here is you have to check in for flights three hours ahead of time and get your baggage weighed but they don’t actually take the baggage nor do they allow you to leave it unattended. That means you’re stuck in the airport until your flight leaves, which could be any moment- or never. I’m such a sucker that I still believe it’s going to be “any moment” so I stare at the walls rather than reading a book or watching a movie. Today while waiting, we were taken to a section of the airport terminal known as the “Taliban’s Last Stand.” Apparently this was the last Taliban stronghold in Afghanistan, which the coalition put an end to with a couple of fat bombs. Personally, I don’t think such force was necessary. I think they could have just promised the Taliban rides on the next planes out and they would have surrendered before a flight became available. I know I would have. Instead we spent half of a beautiful day hanging out in the airport only to be told there were no more flights so we would be stuck here another day and miss a second show.
I spent the rest of the afternoon doing laundry then I checked out a concert the British put on this evening. It was held on the Boardwalk, a huge courtyard, and featured a pretty good cover band with a Chris Daughtry lookalike for a lead singer. It was bizarre to attend an outdoor concert with a couple thousand people and not catch even one whiff of weed. The show included four dancing girls in skimpy outfits gyrating with one another- just what a bunch of guys forbidden from having sex for a year need to see.
Some guy let me use his cell phone to call home. Unfortunately, I only know two phone numbers offhand so I didn’t get to take full advantage of it. This picture is actually of a walkie talkie with a three foot antenna but it looked so much like my first cell phone I had to get a picture with it.
The distinguishing characteristic of Kandahar is the signs. They’ve got signs for everything and I thought I’d show you a little sample.
The good ‘ol “What colour is your urine?” sign is displayed on all the bathroom stalls. I thought it sounded like a fun game to play but none of the other women wanted to take me on. I guess they could tell by looking at me that I was a contender. And rightfully so- I won! They’re going to have to stop drinking water pretty early in the morning if they want to compete with the Burnt Sienna color palette I’ve got going on.
This sign hangs in the Luxembourg D-FAC (dining facility). There’s a whole Silence of the Lambs thing happening here (“It puts the lotion in the basket…”). The only thing stranger than the pronoun usage is the fact that Luxembourg is represented on a military installation.
I’m guessing this operation began during the writer’s strike because this has to be the worst-named operation in history. What’s next? Operation GotMilk? Operation Wedgie?
The thing I love about this sign is the way it tells you to find shelter after the attack has ended. It’s a good thing the military doesn’t have any signs offering sexual advice. They’d probably tell guys to put condoms on after they come.
