The Golden Apricot

Twenty one men and a woman in the valley.

We ate a sumptuous meal under a 100 year old apricot tree.  And ate it’s luscious fruit.

Having a three month old beard has its advantages.  The privilege and an honor to heartily shake and thank the hand of a man rolling a golden apricot.

We left at 6:30am and returned 14 hours later.  In five years it’ll be safe enough for a tourist to visit this special place.  Of course you’ll still have to bring a tent.

I don’t know if the fellas from the British Council really took to any of my ideas.  Vocational schools.  Learning a trade that can earn a little more money.  Does everyone need a college education abroad, ya, if you can do it. 

In the meantime consider that the tourism industry is percolating, or at least I am.  It’s almost ten pm, shouldn’t I be in bed now?  Tea or coffee doesn’t sound good anymore?  The blue moon is still up there but the rain and gentle thunderstorm gave the city a soak and may I say Kabul looks a lot better at night.

Three kinds of melon.  Yellow cherries and sweet mulberries.  Fresh walnuts.  Apricots with a pit similar to an almond.  Crunchy sweet green apples. 

And two pressure cookers produced an extraordinary second meal of potatoes, garlic, lemon, long green peppers, sheep fat for the savory gravy,and the joints which hold, if you work at it, the marrow of the finest flavor not found in the finest of New York restaurants.  

In the shade cool northerly breezes, the rush of the river, I asked a few men, pointing, if that way was Nuristan, land of red hair and blue eyed men.  We are just on the edge of the Hindu Kush.  Follow the river north and up and see how far you get. 

I shouldn’t generalize but that’s what one does when someone reads or sees a movie nevertheless it’s interesting to ask, did Charlie Wilson’s war help a little bit?  How many valleys did the Soviet Union find?  The Mujahedin won the war because they knew how to wait.

Afghani bread with meals.  All the combinations made it perfect to eat but the manhole sizes are intimidating.  Am I supposed to eat this whole thing?  Half is enough.  Scraps were fed to a black and white cow alongside the lake for our last meal. 

J:  “well all his teeth fell out in part because his mother smoked while he was in uterus….and he drank enough coke too...”

E:  “ah what is he, a drug addict?  That’ll do it.”

J:  “remind me later please and I’ll tell you.”

11:20pm

Oh I am staying up late and now the power has gone off but wait…wait…it’s back on.  A huge generator in the yard is the reason for this?  Ok, thanks. 

It is cool enough and if I could figure out how to draw the outside air inside, I would turn off the a/c and eliminate one possible reason for the congestion in my nose and throat.

I have to thank the American who was invited to go to the valley of abundance but declined.  I told one man it was like therapy.  I haven’t eaten good healthy food  for a very long time.  Ramen noodles ya know only go so far.  I should make a stew for the other person in this building, a simple thanks for feeding me once.  I have a full kitchen and an oven that works.  What do you say, Jay boy?

Go to bed, it's almost August.   And thank you.  Thank you.

freedom from fear

The US Embassy webpage lists two places that offer dental services: The American Medical Center doesn’t have a dentist at the moment and the German Diagnostics Clinic said there was an opening on August 9 so I walked to the main road and visited the Fahmi Dental Clinic.  There a young man, not much older than 25, looked at the broken tooth and said he could give me a filling in three days (why not now?) and ten days later a crown.  I told him I’d probably be headed to Kandahar by then but if he could do the filling, then let’s do it.  I had hoped he could have smoothed the sharp edge of the base of the tooth that is carving my tongue up and making it quite discomforting to eat or drink anything.  That’s ok, I didn’t want to stay any longer in the dusty operating room, but I did leave half the balance of 1000 AFN, that’s $16. 

As I was leaving my cheap sunglasses broke so I walked up and down this street full of life, no sign of militants or hostile locals until I found another cheap pair even though they’re too small.  When the sun is out like today I need to have something to shade my eyes.

Today I’ll go to the campus with the last bus, 12:25pm, for lunch.  On my way back to the guesthouse I stopped at the Zoom Supermarket for bread and a couple of ramen noodles.  Last night Anna told me no one goes to restaurants during the summer months because it’s too dangerous.  It left me wondering if social unrest is always during the hot days.  I should really get a job next time in Finland.

I registered with the Embassies STEP program to let them know I am here and this morning I got one of them general email warnings of the continued dangers they suspect puts all of us on high alert.  They listed foreign guesthouses as targets.  This morning there were four soldiers in front sitting in the shade, rifles always ready.  I feel safe but I enjoyed walking out in the open.  I believe demonstrating a certain amount of freedom like walking in the neighborhood instills confidence and to an extent a determination for a life free from fear.  How much happier will everyone be when people don't have to be told to believe at the end of a gun.

6.01pm

A calm coolish evening on the terrace, the geese in the yard below squawk, the mountains in the east are bare half way up, below midway are homes.  It is impossible to see power lines during the day but everyone has their porch light on.

The university has a day off tomorrow.  Only in the last three months I’m told have teachers been working six day weeks and they’re not too happy about it.  The director who initiated this directive is also leaving for a government job so all are hoping to return to a five day work week.  I have no idea what my schedule will be like.  All I can remember in my interview was the man saying, ‘it’s hard’ and I assume that was a general consensus, the job is hard, living there is hard, ya da ya da.  Right, with no native English speakers in the city, no beer, no one to show me around because security is wanker that and wanker this, I will need, I must need, something to keep the mind sharp.  Meditation, yeah ok, that helps, but I think something physical will be necessary.  Oh please may there be a gym.

 So, tomorrow’s an off day which basically means I don’t have to go in which means I have to come up with a plan to eat lunch somewhere.  Gee, I hope someone is around.  What the hell am I going to do all day?   

The government is still in peace talks with the Taliban.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was peace in the country?  From 1933 to 1973 there was peace.  Is this too much to ask for?  Of course peace with the Taliban doesn’t mean independent militias will lay down their rusty Russian rifles.  But it’ll be a start.  And of course peace means the freedom to travel and see this virtually unexplored nation.  Of course I may be so busy I won’t have time to see anything.  Am I here only for the money?  Am I here only for some delayed gratification?  A chance to prepare for my eventual retirement?  I would like to think that far ahead.  

Really.  In the meantime I have books. 

you broke another one?

The phone numbers for the American Medical Clinic do not work.  The DK-German Medical Clinic has openings to see a dentist on August 9.  Well, I am not in pain now, I guess I can wait.  But for how long?  This tooth on the bottom right and next to an open space near the front was already broken but it is a significant tooth when it comes to eating, I don’t know, I may wind up going to see a local unlicensed man who’ll simply decide pulling it is easier than saving it.

After giving my passport for processing to get a work visa Waheed invited me to lunch.  I assumed we were going to the cafeteria.  “No, this is a special place.”  We walked to the mechanics garage and plates of rice and lamb, fresh Afghani bread, yogurt salad, and a slightly pale green melon awaited us on the ground. Delicious, look I can eat with my right hand though I’m getting rice all over myself and standing up from sitting yoga was comic relief.  Why are my legs so inflexible I don’t know. 

Almost two hours in the bank this morning and I think everything that can be for now is done.  The man doing the endless paperwork asked me what currency I wished to be paid in and I didn’t hear him because I was adrift in fatigue.  The local Afghan-Afghani right now is 60 AFN – 1 USD and it is not convertible outside the country.  What to do. 

Waheed pointed out I came in just as the new cycle started so come next month I should receive a full salary.  And the wait for Kandahar continues.  Maybe in two days, maybe next week.  The director will make the decision and I’m told it would be unwise to travel there without my passport via courier because you know, the roads are off limits.  Well, damn, I guess I’ll return to the guesthouse and take a nap because I am whooped and whipped, and maybe figure out how to use the washing machine. 

6.25pm

A very overcast evening, sitting on the terrace drinking a mug of green tea, my tongue examines the sharp remains of what is left of my tooth.  It is uncomfortable and the visit inevitable.  Should I have had this repaired while I was in Dubai?  Prudent preventative maintenance says yes but there was no discomfort and perhaps like a typical male I did nothing. 

I have one packet of ramen noodles left.  Yesterday after work Kara, an American woman who works in public relations and lives in the building next door with  Erika called the ‘Apollo’ and I walked to a local market after the guards called Qasi, the head of security for the time being, and had our departure from the ‘safe grounds’ okayed.  The shop mostly contains dried goods and the freezer had chicken dogs.  I found a square of cheddar cheese.  The bread in the welcome basket is almost finished and I will have to return to the shop tomorrow.  I bought two small creamers, ‘liquid tea whiteners’, matches, two diet cokes and detergent.  I don’t think I can live like this for very long.  The other teachers don’t speak of restaurants at all and only one ‘safe’ hotel is mentioned, The Serena Hotel, which has a buffet on Fridays.  The security we all live in is stifling.  I know they are looking out for us and it is appreciated but parents have to let their kids walk around.  I have to walk around.

Rain begins.  After sneezing off a few rounds in the office I was asked if I had allergies.  I think it must be a combination of everything, dust, altitude, rain, pollen, my throat is still slightly swollen but it is being managed.  I’ve doubled on the grapefruit seed extract which of course means I’ll run out soon.  Thankfully I bought a bottle of the liquid stuff in Leuven. 

So, I’m glad to have the July 6-13 copy of The New Yorker.  A story about meditation leaves me asking how my own meditation fares.  I’m living alone again.  Once in Kandahar I’ll not only be living alone I’ll be without native English speakers.  How does that sound to you?  It’s sounds pretty quiet.  And the only noise I hear as evening darkens, is the discomfort of another broken tooth.    

may you never squeeze

I turned off the a/c last night and opened the windows.  Sixty degrees is good sleeping weather but I didn’t account for the roosters and I didn’t account for the sore throat which brings me to wonder why the hell I didn’t bring any amoxicillin.  I got everything else.

A driver took me to the bank to open an account and despite the dreary disposition among the Afghans who probably want the bank to work for them but who or what has ever worked for them, the left handed woman customer service officer named Benafsha looking sickly with a pasty pall told me after a 20 minute sit that I needed a work permit to open an account.  Now I am sure the fine folks in Finance knew this and the head dude in HR knew this, nevertheless I came back to the pretty, quiet campus and was told maybe I could open the account in Kandahar.  They really want me in Kandahar but we stall and wait.  Five days in Kabul and what the hell have I done other than get to know a few of the brave souls here. 

The office is right next to the cafeteria and in line to get my macaroni and beef, a slice of stale bread and a three bean salad and bottle of water for 180 Afghanis ($3) I met Todd from Lancaster PA.  I told him where I was headed and that I’d be the only teacher there and feared if anyone came in asking for lessons on Aviation English.  “Oh, that’s my specialty” and he gave me his card.  ‘What a strange coincidence for you to say that.”  Nothing is strange about coincidences, bud, though don’t ask me what this one means.

Right now the office has three teachers prepping for their 4:30pm class two hours in advance, I’m impressed or this is simply an indicator there is nothing else to do when security fears for your life; go to class, go to home, go to class, no go to market, blah blah.

 There is Walt from Arizona once upon a time, John from San Diego once upon a time, Erika, who I worked with Gazientep five years ago, and is shipping off to AU Cairo in a fortnight, and Shahla, an Afghani teacher who remains to herself but is pleasant when necessary.  I am writing this blog and not feeling a bit guilty about it.  I was given the textbooks and was told I’d most likely use them but who knows, really, who the hell knows. 

The mini bus returns to the Phoenix house at five and I will be on it.  I will ask the driver to stop somewhere along the way so I can jump out and buy some liquid tea whitener and what else looks semi edible.  I’ll also buy some detergent, a small box is suffice, and a lighter.  I lost my lighter and that is the greatest mystery. 

So, is that it today?  The Internet at the house works once in a while.  It’s a funny place.  There are three levels and each level has four apartments.  There is a large communal kitchen and I was assigned a refrigerator.  Anna, who lives on my level, also has a full sized fridge.  There is a dining room in the center where it would be nice to eat if it weren’t so hot, and a large terrace where I go out and look down at the guards with their machine guns, fingers always on the triggers.  May you never squeeze, dudes.