The Longest Month...Part II

I know I wrote an entry a few months ago where I lamented that May was the longest month ever.  Well, I gotta tell you May, you've got nothing on August.  Thank goodness August is finally over (although I still have a couple of hours so anything could happen).  Aside from all the exciting things that happened throughout the month, along with the leadership challenges, August was the longest in history because of Ramazan (commonly referred to as Ramadan in the states).  During the month of Ramazan, all Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset.  To them, fasting means nothing passes the lips...no food, no water, no cigarettes...nothing.  Once the sun goes down, however, all bets are off, and around seven in the evening they will gather together for an Iftar dinner where they replenish their bodies.  Then, for most, they wake up at around two in the morning and eat a big meal, knowing it will be their last for about seventeen hours.  After the meal they go to prayer and then they start their day.  Since the schedule is so out of whack, most everyone stops working around noon and then they lie down for a nice siesta around two.  It makes it especially difficult when you are working and walking around in 100 degree temperatures and you can't drink any water...makes for a long day. 

But this isn't about their long month.  This is about my long month.  For one thing, although I did not fast, I also did not drink water around them or eat anything around them.  So, whenever we spent time at the Governor's Compound I would abstain from drinking so as not to unintentionally harass one of our Afghan counterparts.  That wasn't so difficult, and it certainly made that first drink of water or gatorade taste that much more refreshing.  But, what I missed more than anything was the snacks.  Because the Afghan people live in such a polite society, anytime you sit down anywhere for more than a minute, a snack tray would always appear.  No matter where you go in Kunar, the snack trays look almost identical (someone has a monopoly on this) and the contents of the tray would almost always be exactly the same thing.  The trays are circular and are divided into four sections surrounding a circular section in the middle.  Invariably the snacks would be dried chickpeas, pistachios, almonds (still in the shell), and raisins.  These four selections always surrounded the favorite of all in the middle...chewy toffee in a gold wrapper.  Yum.  The variation on this theme, which I have only seen a couple of times, is an almond with some sort of sugary confectionary cover...my all time favorite.  One time, in a particularly long meeting, I ate those almonds and then started sneaking them from another tray.  Oftentimes it is the only way I can maintain coherency.  Because the electrical grid is suspect or non-existent in most places (most times people rely on generators), there is not much air conditioning in sweltering heat listening to long speeches in Pashto and listening to the translation as the sweat rolls down your back, and your eyes start to get heavy because your system is shutting down....so I eat the snacks.  The chickpeas are like chewing sawdust pellets, but I have grown to love them.  The pistachios and almonds entertain because you have to extract them from the shell...not always an easy task.  The raisins, for some reason, I have avoided.  Perhaps I will try the raisins next time. 

The other thing that shows up whenever you sit down for more than a minute, is a drink.  Usually it is one of the two national drinks of Afghanistan, chai (tea) or Mountain Dew (Mountain Dew).  Yes, the hot drink of choice is tea and the cold drink of choice is Mountain Dew.  Not sure how they did it but the guy who introduced Mountain Dew to Afghanistan is a genuis.  Everytime you sit down to a big lunch, Mountain Dew for everyone.  Sometimes there will be a Sprite, but they are far and few between.  The problem with Green Tea and Mountain Dew is that they look amazingly similar.  More than once, sitting outside in 100 degree weather I have been brought a green tinted liquid in a clear glass and had to make sure I took a cautious first sip to determine whether it was tea or dew.  Taking a big gulp of hot tea could be painful and embarrassing.  At one meeting after we first arrived, we had to stay longer than planned because we caught them without anything to drink so they sent a runner out to the store to buy some Mountain Dew.  So we waited, and waited and kept the conversation going so that we did not insult them by leaving before the dew arrived. 

But the pain of no snacks and no chai and no water or dew is past.  Ramazan is over and the country is on vacation for a few days as they celebrate their version of thanksgiving.  People will start returning back to work on Saturday or Sunday as the celebrations wind down.  Once again, when we arrive at the Governor's Compound we will bring ice cold water to share.  I can't wait to get back to the meetings so that I can once again enjoy the wonderful Afghan hospitality and dive back into the chickpeas, almonds and that wonderful toffee!

Yesterday morning I stood out on the flight line and watched one of my guys head toward the helicopter.  He was starting a long journey back to the states that would take him from Camp Wright to Jalalabad to Bagram to Kuwait to New Jersey (and a few more layovers in between Kuwait and New Jersey I am sure).  He was heading back home to bury his father.  The night before he had learned of his father's passing, so now he was on his way home to provide some strength for those who had been there at the end, and to figure out how to grieve for his own loss.  The realities of life and death are not put on hold during deployment.  Kids continue to grow up and experience life, people lose and gain employment, hurricanes threaten homes and loved ones, and people pass away.  I remember being on deployment and receiving a letter from Mom saying Aunt Darlene had passed away.  I couldn't remember the last time I had seen her, but once I joined the Navy the times I had seen her had been few and far between.  But, I sat there in my stateroom with tears rolling down my cheeks, sad for my mother and for Aunt Darlene's family that had always been a part of my life in some way even if it was just wonderful memories.  Numerous times over the years I have been faced with breaking the news to a Sailor that someone close to them had passed away.  The helplessness of being so far away and the guilt of not having been there, regardless of whether or not you could do anything about it always seems  to be the first reaction. 

This young man who is now on his journey back to the states (which will no doubt be affected by Hurricane Irene) is a strong, powerful, stoic man who takes great pride in doing his job well.  But the other night he was reduced to sorrow and tears as he sat in disbelieve at the loss.  The tears came in waves as the reality would hit, or as a friend would come in to comfort him. We pray for him and for his family and there is no doubt that his father was proud of the man he had become and the grandchild he had given him.  He will bury his father, comfort his family and then return, taking the long route back here to resume the deployment so far from home.

Kids and More Kids

So there is this burn pit right outside the base.  Since Waste Management Co has not made their way Afghanistan yet, we have to burn all of our trash...I know, not exactly environmentally friendly but there is no other alternative at this stage.  So each day trucks go out and dump the trash and burn it.  So the pit is a large blackened crater that is constantly smoking like the top of a volcano.  Here and there you can see little, smoldering fires as the remnants of the trash gets turned to ash.  But the fire has competition for the trash.  Because the pit is constantly occupied by a collection of goats, sheep, mules, cattle and kids.  The goats and sheep are always rummaging through the burning garbage looking for something good to eat.  The sheep...I am pretty sure they were white at one point but hanging out at the burn pit has turned their wool black.  The other day as we drove by it was raining, so you could see some of the black soot washing away from the sheep although it was just making them looking nastier than they already did.  They do not seem to be too concerned by the fires and the hot earth they are walking over, although they do not seem to be too concerned about anything.  One of my guys said he saw two goats at the top of the burn pit, as he put it..."they were making love, and they were both on fire."  Now, that's what you call the heat of passion.  I'm not sure why the cows and mules hang out there except to see what all the excitement is about.  The kids from the nearby villages will venture in sometimes too.  Perhaps they are suppose to be tending the flocks and herds.  They will rummage through the crater for whatever good stuff they can get their hands on without getting burned.  Crazy.

Driving through the province, it is amazing how many animals and kids there are.  Even driving to Asadabad, the capital of the province that is only five minutes away, if we go at the wrong time in the morning we get stuck behind a mini cattle drive as the farmer takes his livestock down to whereever it is they hang out during the day.  So, they head right down the main street until they take a right just before they get to the center of town.  It is always sketchy when we are driving around because these animals are fearless and stupid.  You will see three cows, or maybe four of five mules walking down the side of the road, no one tending them of course, and you will invaribly see one of them just start tilting his head to the left as though he has decided he wants to cross the road.  Pay no attention to the large vehicles (with weapons) barreling down the road.  Next thing you know it's little head tilt will become a left turn right into the middle of the road as it decides to saunter across without a care in the world.  So we spend quite a bit of time hitting the brakes for a wide variety of animals. 

The kids!  The average Afghan family has five to six kids...that is the average.  So, there are kids everywhere.  Because they are kids, they always come out to the side of the road whenever we pass.  Depending on the village, they will either wave, give us a thumbs up, give us an obscene gesture or throw rocks.  It all depends on where we are in the province.  There is one village in particular where it seems they are not big fans, but the kids still stop and watch us go by...there are so many more than in other places.  They are all young...under twelve...and they will just watch us go by, with little or no emotion.  Kind of like the Stepford Children or Children of the Corn maybe...slightly creepy.  Of course, because it is summer and the temperature is anywhere between 101 and 107 on most days, you will see the kids out swimming in the canals and the river just like anywhere in the world.  I have even seen kids tubing down the river and relaxing along the river bank.  Unfortunately, the kids in the canals are swimming in the water that carries the sewage away from their villages...nice.  There is no clear water here.  It is all brown, even the river. 

Of course the kids are critical in the process of building this country.  Breaking the cycle and educating the next generation so they can better understand the world around them and not be manipulated by ignorance and hate is key.  That is why we build schools and promote education.  The percentage of kids getting an education, both boys and girls, is going up which is great.  What they do with this education remains to be seen.  Hopefully it will get them out of the burn pit.