thank you Mr. President

The solar power went off at four this morning so I opened the windows and my door and managed to coax a cool breeze.  Two hours later I am up.  Two hours later and it’s a steamer.  I retrieved the floor fan but the wires are too short to reach the auxiliary line.  How did Fezel do that?  I went outside to drink my coffee, I know, a hot beverage ought to cool me down somewhat.  I’ve prepped for today’s lessons, I assume students will come despite yesterday’s violence in the capital.  It’s peaceful here, it’s bloody hot here.  Who wants to go around blowing things up when it’s too hot to take a dump.

There was a social media connection with a colleague I worked with ten years ago in China.  Nice to see you, kid, you look the same.  So?  That’s all.  I read a little bit of ATLWCS and then noticed a hole chewed out on the top of the new cheerios box.  Was that hole there before I bought it?  Surely not.  Do I have mice in this room?  It’s hard to believe I didn’t hear it.  Is the cereal ok?  Did the mouse take a dump in it?  Did it leave saliva on any of the cereal?  There’s no way I’m throwing this box out.

The big blue generator sits forlorn.  No one is using me.  I know what the boss is thinking, we’ll turn it on in time for classes to keep the rooms cool and the grinding whirring noise right outside the rooms will make it impossible to use listening exercises.  Joke.  Capital J capital O capital K capital E.

Why don’t you just take a cold two hour shower and stop your whinnying? 

If I were given one hour and told to pack one bag, what would I take?  A most serious purge, wouldn’t it be?  The laptop is kind of important but it’s also heavy.  I’d take my camera and all its wires, a few medicines, I stocked up on a lot of drugs and haven’t used any though I suspect in the winter months I’ll pop whatever I have.  What else?  Most of the clothes I’d leave behind.  Three pairs of underwear would make the cut, one pair of socks, one book, the one I’m reading now.  Shoes, I bought a new pair, and sandals.  One hat.  My Sri Lankan ebony Buddha that I’ve traveled with for 12 years, could I leave such a sentiment behind, I don’t know.  Two t-shirts.  My trekking pants because I got six pockets. 

And right now I don’t have my passport.  Would they, could they, fly me out, I don’t know.  I would be stranded in the Kandahar airport with two ostriches.

11:00am

Has it been eleven hours with no electricity?  Temps climb, no breeze, I nodded off reading an article on the Affordable Care Act in Harpers, I took a cool shower, my mobile needs charging, my laptop will need charging, no one seems at all perturbed with this 16^th century life style.  If you had it and it was taken away from you, you’d be miserable, by golly.  It’s hard to focus on planning when I am tired.  I’ve told them that.  I can’t be the best teacher if I am always fucking tired and hot and a headache approaches again G*# Da@#it. 

I think perhaps the saddest fact about the conditions here is the people in charge in Kabul know this place is a hardship.  They could increase the budget and allow Saffiq to run the generator when it’s absurdly hot.  But would they be doing it simply for me?  I feel so selfish.  Turn the damn thing on!!!

Whoa!  Rezek turned it on and now he fills the swamp cooler.  God Bless you, man.   

Wait, it’s off again @#$%, get me outta here.

7.44pm

Good students keep me honest. 

The big blue generator is running.  This diesel guzzling monster has to be on even if I can’t hear the listening exercises.  An Englishman describes his restaurant in Chile and I come around the teacher’s desk and crouch down next to the speakers to understand him. 

Is it too early for bed?  I wasn’t invited but I walked into the room where staff started lunch.  I have to eat, and this meal of potatoes and bread and meat and salad is good, if they don’t want me to eat, and there is no indication I wasn’t invited, I am staff, too, and I live here, I will continue to make myself available.  

I’m a bit sheepish but in a terrible selfish way I gotta get comfortable here.  I'm no prima donna and don't wanna be treated as one but mother of pearl bear with me please as I endure and adjust.  

I must say it is good to blow steam here, perhaps it isn't good reading but more is said here than out there.   Thank God for the writing lessons taught to me by Harry S. Truman. 

Tomorrow Wali is going to take me to a tailor to get fitted for a shalwar kameez.  Fezel just gave me a delicious spicy egg salad sandwich and Rezek is hooking up the floor fan.  I feel unworthy of the special attention, I must be complaining too much, but I am grateful and somehow someway I will return the kindness.  Until then God speed.