Back to the hill that bounds our residential area of Wazir Akbar Khan. People are cautioned about wandering up once the sun goes down for it is said that there are different ways of coming down one of them being in the boot of a car! There is no exaggeration of the danger there, for there have been some pretty unsavoury incidents.
But let us talk of something more interesting. I think there was a question earlier on as to how the Russians managed to get water inside the hilltop swimming pool. One answer says they didn’t do anything; the winter snow took care of that. Only some topping up may be in the height of summer, like each one carrying up a bucket of water – Jack and Jill in reverse!
I started venturing out on my own a few Fridays ago as it didn’t seem right to expect my Afghan colleague Qaseem who doubles as my driver – and car owner – to keep showing up on a weekly holiday (though Qaseem did say at the beginning that such monthly transport contracts recognize no holidays;but that was before he took on the job himself) . Well, I took off one day to Church after practicing a few Dari words. My sense of direction mostly displayed by signs was unerring but the driver who looked like a Bedouin – the turban cloth casually flung over his head and shoulders – took some unexpected turns. I still knew my ground – more or less – but guiding him became a trifle difficult. Unfortunately he spoke no Urdu and my Dari was dying young. Then he spoke up, a little doubtfully: “do you know English”? A very good one in the face of prejudices and false assumptions!
Not wanting to spend too much money on taxi fares, I have been chancing it on a bicycle borrowed from the guest house when making a second outing on Fridays, in particular for the evening Praise and Worship fellowship meetings at the SNI (Shelter Now International) guesthouse. Completely outside the security regulations of course but what is life without a little adventure? Besides, if any one were to take pick me up (as kidnapping is termed euphemistically with a touch of lightness !), I’d rather it happened while I was on my way to or from a Christian meeting.
But this sort of thing is bound to go to your head and soon enough it did. I started driving around a bit – alone. And before long I got caught by the police ! Fortunately the constable who stopped me spoke Hindi, having spent three years in Bombay. I told him I had an Indian driving license but he pointed out agreeably that this is Afghanistan. Now I knew that not many drivers here are licensed but I thought it better not to pursue that line of argument! He demanded money, I “didn’t” understand. Then he asked me to produce at least the Indian license. After all the rummaging in the wallet, the license never showed up for it was safely ensconced in my briefcase back in the room (I never really thought I’d be driving around, left hand drive, right side of the road and all !). Another constable joined the party meanwhile. I think they exchanged some words between them and the first guy signaled for me to push off, saying that after all I didn’t really have the Indian license either. For a while I considered vindicating my stand by searching it out right there (not realizing I was never going to find it) but prudence won in the end. I moved. I should thank God that I am an Indian and not a Pakistani, given the strong Afghan feelings for our common neighbour, but God willing, we will deal with that subject another day.
Did you hear about the rocket attack? It was about this time last month when there was this deafening sound in the middle of the night, followed by a scream of sirens that seemed to go on endlessly. We learnt the next morning what it was and that it was directed at the ISAF (International Security Assistance Forces) compound. Just one of those things that make Kabul, Kabul !!
The other day Qaseem was late showing up and I started walking towards the Kabul Orthopaedic Organisation, our work place less than a kilometer away. Not far from the guest house, two pairs of eyes smiled at me. Yes, eyes were all I could see; it took me a moment to realize that those belonged to the two women who do the cleaning and laundry in the guest house.
Last Tuesday evening was simply fantastic. Quite easily the best so far in Kabul. (Aunt) Irene had invited me to the SNI guest house for dinner. There were eight of us in all and I was the only outsider (meaning non-SNI staff) : Claudia and Ursula from Switzerland (both German speaking), Ika and Garsten from Germany, David from the U.K. along with his Pakistani wife Ruth and a New Zealand woman whose husband Richard was down with a touch of diarrhea, not forgetting Irene herself (and she is from South Africa). So seven nationalities in a group of eight ! The food was gorgeous. And there was ice-cream !! Irene insisted that we sing and so we did, but not very well I’m afraid. All of us wanted to sing hymns and none of us knew the words properly. Some of us knew the words in some other languages (Africans, German, Urdu, Tamil !).There was a brief debate on modern worship songs as opposed to the traditional hymns and the gathering dispersed with much determination to do it again with better preparation on the music front.
And I met an Afghan Christian for the first time – the driver of the SNI contract van Noor Mohammad who brought me back to the Ajmal Wali Guest House – “Feel it Home” !
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29 June 2005 – Judah