6:58pm—I sit in class and the
toefl students have begun the second writing question:
Is it better to be safe or sorry?
Everything I aspire to requires risk,
calculated risks, but there is the fear of failing, which is not an
inevitability rather a consequence of unfortunate planning and misled dreams. So,
I plan slowly, sometimes so slowly the pace is telling me something.
And what is a risk but doing something one is not sure
of and this is where the omnipotence of some great God irritates me because if
all things are already meant to be then why can’t God just let me know before I
start. Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to take
a leap with a certain measure of certainty?
I am not certain about anything tonight.
What a damn pity. I got five holes
in my belly and…I took a good nap this afternoon and would like another one.
This afternoon at lunch-- ‘eemaan’
stir fried sheep liver and onions--I asked Hanukkah how many Soviets he thinks
there were in Kandahar. ‘More than the
Americans…they were in the streets patrolling, everyone stayed out of sight or
we fought them…’, and he went on for 10 minutes and I wasn’t given a
translation. I asked Saffi if Hanukkah
was a real Mujahedeen. He said Hanukkah
was a hero, one of the few men who battled the Soviets and never left
Kandahar. He might be the first man I’ve
met who has never been a refugee. I’m
sure there are more but it is a bit of a privilege to know who I work with
sometimes.
It would be cool, wouldn’t it, if I had a translator
and interviewed the dude for a story. I
told him I wanted a photo of the two of us, he gestured some kind of chop and
choke if I tried I said I’d take one from the roof. ‘You’ll have to come down one day.’ Okay, this might require a little more
diplomacy.
Oh, and I read this story above in the
Guardian this evening. There is no
coincidence here because…I’d been reading stories for twenty minutes before I
saw this one. The odds increased every
time I read another story. So
there.
Younnis is watching tv below, Saffi is out. My evening subsistence contains nuts and a
coffee, and maybe a slice of loaf cake I picked up after last night’s ice cream
parlour gig. And this Saturday we have
no classes because of Ashura. Ashsurwha?
Helicopters buzz coming up to eleven pm,
pizza from ‘Pizza Hot’ with Saffi and Hikmatullah also known as Azad, the man I
loaned ‘Of Mice and Men’ to and he never read but still has a chance to go to
California, he’ll know in five days, and now it’s almost time to say
goodnight. One class tomorrow and then
almost once the morning men take wing, a three day holiday. Hey, Thursday, a three dayer in Dubai?
10.22.15
I took a blanket/comforter and draped it on the gazebo
and swatted it of dust with a badminton racket.
Last night was just a tad cool to sleep well in only a silk liner. Since the ‘system’ blew through the mornings
have remained pleasantly brisk and blue cloudless skies take the stage. I have been collecting syllabuses on line and
will glean them and produce at least for now, an outline form for the morning
class I have now and perhaps another speaking class for advanced students. The only thing I will not have with me is a
textbook so…it leaves me with a lot of creative planning. And researching. And whatever else is necessary ya know?
A backhoe/shovel a few houses to the east
is making a lot of noise and wrecking the peace. I should lie down again. I had to crash after breakfast, we’re just
whooped and I don’t know why.
6:03pm—I reclined under
the airplane trees this afternoon and became very comfortable. I think tomorrow I will attempt to do some
kind of work, any work outside. A
pleasant experience this could be.
At lunch Rezek was telling a story about
his keys and various bodily places he has to hide them in and they laughed as hard
as I’ve heard them. No one, I guess, is safe from the male jesting, an expected
behavior in a workplace of only men and to a degree a behavior of trust and
friendship at various levels. Ya I know,
when they were turning different colors in their belly busting I did feel a bit
out of it. And it raises a question:
Why am I always working in cities where there just isn’t
any form of social life I’d like to be in.
I have lived too along alone in nocturnally subdued places, I swear, but
dude, if you weren’t somehow content you would have left these deserts long ago. Desert dry bones dancing we are, aren’t
we, cooking ideas making smoke and
listening for the next move.
Brilliant stars again tonight. A full moon is coming.
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