the men's club

Outside the bedroom window a young man is installing brackets where a swamp cooler will be fitted.  The swamp cooler is a large circular Coleman like barrel lined with tight hay which is filled with water.  A fan draws the coolness from the water and blows it into the room.  Saffiq sprung into action when I told Wali I had had another poor night’s sleep.  Do you ever read the same line over and over because you’re too tired, too hot, well I feel bad for complaining but I do no good when I feel no good. 

We sat in the guard’s box for a few moments, cooled by a smaller swamp cooler and I said I’d sleep here.  Hanukkah, which I learned is Khan plus ukkah which means uncle.  Upon closer aural inspection Han is more like Khan but the K is softer.  I am four years younger than this large bearded man and the others might begin calling me Johnukkah.  John Uncle. 

Well I don’t feel that affinity yet for the all men’s team, but we are getting along and Saffiq said we’d go out later and look for some local attire.  I won’t give up my shorts when I shuttle between the bedroom and kitchen or if I step outside in the early morning for a smoke, but I will go for wearing the shalwar kameez in class or when errands are to be done.

And why not, they are loose fitting and the men are probably a lot cooler than I am.  I just cannot stop sweating.

3:20pm

The swamp cooler is cool, if you stand right in front of it, but an air conditioner is more effective.  Why?  I think the former is just blowing water which is naturally cool but strangely dissipates unlike the a/c air.  I don’t know, what matters is I sleep at night.  And now.

7.55pm

The swamp cooler worked well enough so I turned it off.  The big diesel sucking generator went off thirty minutes ago and now the source of this evening’s electricity will come solar, so will it be enough to keep the machine that I pray gives me a complete seven to eight hours of sleep, alive?

My mental disposition changed when I was in this cavernous room I’ll call home for the next year and I wasn’t sweating.  If one is moderately comfortable then life isn't about escape.

Kabul asked me to propose a holiday schedule with my 40 days and if the three dates come to fruit--though I have big doubts, to plan my own holiday sounds too good to actually work--then I’ll take ten days in September through October, then two weeks in December and then two more weeks in March and April.  The question yet to be answered will one year be enough?  If I can sleep at night, if I have a variety of food to eat every day, if my banking responsibilities are taken care of, if I do good in class, if I  don’t go stir crazy here in the men’s club, oy vey.   

The average local stays up late and eats late.  I’d probably do well to adjust to such a manner of life but it is going to be a challenge for a while.  I finished yesterday’s pasta over rice and in an hour I would like to call it a day.  I want to sleep more than go out looking for clothes. 

In Leuven I bought an 80 Euro one hundred percent silk liner with comfort stretch panels and the intention was use it if I go trekking and have to sleep somewhere without a bed.  Last night I climbed into it and tonight I’ll do the same.  Two nights ago I bought tacky cotton/polyester sheets and I’d rather sleep on top of them instead of between them.  The silk liner is too comfortable not to use.

A question begs, if I don’t eat cheese and drink diet coke, if I don’t eat chips and hamburgers and French fries, if I don’t drink beer or whiskey and live on five or six liters of water every day, will I lose weight?  How could I not?  My size 36 trekking pants are already loose but they fit me under the belly.  I don’t know, I hope so.  Soon I hope I’ll be able to take walks in the safe suburb of Aino Meeno, perhaps one of the men will oblige and we can practice our Pashto-English:

 Tsa peah khada?  What’s happening?  Tsenga yee?  How are you?  Sahaar mop A Khayer, Good morning.  Lut fan, please.  Zeh Mutassif yum.  I’m sorry.  Zama num____deh.  My name is_____.  Za na poheegum.  I don’t understand.  Chup sha.  Be quiet.  Aaraam sha.  Calm down. 

Shpa mo pA Khayer.

Good night it is.