Journal entries from Afghanistan

4/25/07
So I’m sitting here in the Seattle Tacoma airport. Just got through check in and security. Now I have 2 hours to wait until my flight. Excessive security measures require 3 hours advance arrival for international flights. I got through check-in and security within 30 minutes.
As I look around me at all the other international travelers enjoying a cocktail before their flight, I can’t help but ask myself, “ are they going somewhere as crazy as I am? “ In most cases no! As I’m riding a British Airways flight most of them are probably going to a destination in Europe somewhere, though Africa and Asia aren’t out of the question. Who is going to the Middle East? Not many Americans that’s for sure.
Am I crazy? Why am I going to a place where Americans are openly disdained? Is it going to be as bad as it seems it would be? The reactions of people that I told I was going to go to Afghanistan were exactly what I would have predicted given the portrayal of the war on terror by American media. An incredulous “why?” was the overwhelming response to the statement. My sarcastic retort: “for vacation!”. Which of course brought even further incredulity.
Why? What a great question. Superficially this is a trip to visit my mother. Granted I do really miss my mother, but there is a whole host of other reasons that are a little closer to the truth of the matter. I was always able to resist my mom’s attempts at luring me out to Afghanistan in the past. However it is really the change in my own self that is allowing me the courage to undertake what will likely be the most challenging travel I’ve ever undergone. The past year of my life I’ve undergone a transformation of self that I feel has left me in the right spot to take this trip. There are things I want to prove to myself that this trip will allow. I truly love other cultures, people, and ways of life. In past travels I have found myself feeling homesick for the “good ole US of A” . This was more likely a function of missing loved ones back home than missing the way of life. This time I have no girlfriends back home waiting for me, nothing other than my wonderful family, which is always there. My girlfriend is actually in Japan right now, starting her own adventure, while I start mine.
What freedom! To take off and leave the country for two months without a thought to what is left behind. This is a wonderful feeling of independence and self direction. I’ve never really had this before, and it excites me.
I want to talk for a bit about the reactions and impressions of “my fellow Americans” upon hearing that I was going to Afghanistan. While in Montana I received the typical conservative American response. “Don’t get your head cut off by a terrorist” was pretty common, or “I’ll see you on CNN” was another good one. It was rare to hear anything other than a “you’re crazy” type of response. The idea that an American would go to Afghanistan for any reason other than military engagement was unreal to them. Most Americans these days see a middle eastern man and have a gut reaction of distrust. Although understandable given our history, its too much a “black and white” distinction, which Americans have become good at as of late. Most Americans believe that all middle eastern muslims hate America. Is this true? I think I know the answer to this question but would like to verify it with my own experiences. I’d like to compare the ideas Americans have of the region, people, and religion; impressions influenced by the intense media coverage on the matter as of late; to the facts on the ground in Afghanistan.
Are there differences between what is being portrayed here and the realities of the conflict? If there are then, is there a motive behind this or is it just reactionary? Is there true design behind the propaganda or is it just a function of fear run wild? Fear has caused terrible scenarios in the past. Consider the average German during WWII-did they all hate Jews? Probably not, but why would they let such horrible things happen under their noses? Fear. When a leader learns to wield fear upon his populace, he can get almost anything to seem reasonable. It is a tool that has been used and abused in the past. Is 21st century America a case of this? I hope not but fear it to be true.
So off I go, with lofty ideas and questions in my head, to one of the few places in the world where I probably shouldn’t go. Oh well, you only live once. Right?

My arrival in Kabul-Colin

4/28/07

Wow, I’m here! I was picked up yesterday afternoon from the wonderful Kabul airport by mom and Norm after 40 hours of some of the most grueling air travel I’ve ever experienced. Everything went fairly smoothly, no real problems surprisingly enough. Dubai was an interesting experience. I had originally been told by my mother and Mahbouba that I could check my bags all the way through to Kabul, however that was not the case. I had to claim my bags and transfer them to a second terminal to check them into my Kam Air flight to Kabul. I wanted to stay in the main terminal as long as I could, yet as I got shuffled through the system at the airport I found my self with bags on a trolley outside of the airport. I tried to get back in, and had been told by a few people that I could check my bags through at the international terminal and then go over to the other terminal closer to my departure time. I eventually, through many different communication attempts with tall Arab men in all white, found that this was not the case and that furthermore, I had to take a taxi (no free shuttle) to the other terminal. I couldn’t get back into the main part of the terminal, which is actually very nice with lots to do, because I didn’t have a departure ticket from that terminal. With nothing else to do, I got a taxi and went to the second terminal, went through security, only to find that I couldn’t check into my flight for another 5 hours. So I was stuck in this area next to the check in booths that had no facilities or services (no toilets!), and couldn’t go back out to the toilets or the one snack bar available, because the security guards didn’t want the hassle of checking my bags again (there were 8 of them sitting around with nothing to do, but for some reason this would have caused great problems). I had no options but to post up and try and sleep sitting, with my head resting on my luggage. Didn’t happen. Now I should remind you that I had just completed 17 hours of flight and had been awake for more than 24 hours by this point.
I met two Afghan Canadians returning to Kabul for the first time since they had fled the violence 20 years previously. These men were more nervous about going to Afghanistan than I was, and they spoke the language and blend in. They couldn’t believe I was going, and were very concerned for me. They advised me not to leave Kabul for any reason. They were very nice, and I eventually felt safe enough to leave them watching my luggage while I went outside security to get some water and go to the restroom. By 5 am I was able to check in, go through more security, and get to the departures section of the terminal where I could buy some food, use the restroom and relax for another 3 hours until my flight left.
While waiting to depart I met a man working for NATO in Kabul. He had been in the country for 4 months and lived in the main international area where most foreigners spend all of their time. Much different than how mom and Norm go about things. He also seemed amazed that I was going for “vacation” and also advised me not to leave Kabul. He said that most of the country was fine, but there were certainly “no go” areas for westerners. It was the random acts that could happen anytime, anywhere to watch for (hard to do when their random). This man was very nice, and he talked me through the Kabul arrival, so that it would go smoothly. I just followed him when I got off the plane in Kabul, and was able to get through the various steps smoothly and efficiently (as much as possible in a dimly lit baggage claim with Afghans running around all over the place, and most foreigners not having a clue what to do. I passed through one last security screening as I left the airport (What’s the point?) and found mom and Norm waiting by the parking lot. Everything was less hectic than I had imagined it. Way easier than getting through the Addis Ababa airport in Ethiopia. I was not accosted by people trying to carry my bags for me or get me a taxi, which was a pleasant surprise.
I was so excited to see mom and Norm, and I could tell mom was relieved to have me there safe. We drove the “scenic route” to my parents compound in the Karte Se neighborhood, and I got to see Kabul for the first time.
Oh the smells of the third world. It is always the first, thing I notice, even as I step off of the plane in a country like this. Dust, burning garbage, kerosene, dirty fuel burning cars, uncensored male body odor, open sewers and the occasional wafting of cheap cologne/perfume. This menagerie assaults someone from the developed world, as we are unaccustomed to the quantity and intensity of smells in our sterile lives.
We got to my parents house, which is very nice and comfortable, with oriental rugs and handmade fabrics all over place. They have collected some beautiful hand carved wood furniture that would probably cost a fortune in the states, but is quite affordable here. The garden is started and promises to be a nice little green sanctuary later this summer. Their animals are many, and the politics are intense, yet they provide endless entertainment.
We went to the Marastoon compound where the new Parsa office is about to open. It promises to be quite the organization. I met Yasin, his second wife Salia and their son Osmond, along with Salia’s brother Assef. They are wonderful people that I immediately felt comfortable with. We toured the whole compound and met some of the orphans out playing. They are very curious about me, but on the whole, polite and respectful. I saw their football field, covered in rocks, and not level at all, with piles of stones as goal posts. Most of them run around in bare feet. I talked with Yasin about finding someone work the field until its smooth and well graded, and am going
to have some real goals built. This will be my little contribution to the compound. Their gardener costs only 4 dollars a day to hire, so I think that for the price of about $50 I can get them a nice place to play football. Under Taliban rule there was no playing allowed by children, so there are not many playfields in Kabul.
We had a wonderful little meal at the compound of chicken tandoor, rice and some sort of spinach dish, with fresh watermelon and bananas as desert. Yasin’s son Osemond ran around all over the place, but as typical of Afghan families was included in everything. I think I will like Afghanistan. It is truly different than Africa, I feel less foreign here, less out of place, less of an object to be stared at. Afghans seem truly friendly and hospitable, at least the ones that I have met so far. I’m happy to be here, and look forward to seeing more of Kabul and the outer provinces. It is truly an amazing country.

My son Colin-begins his journal and his journey.

Journal entries from Afghanistan

4/25/07
So I’m sitting here in the Seattle Tacoma airport. Just got through check in and security. Now I have 2 hours to wait until my flight. Excessive security measures require 3 hours advance arrival for international flights. I got through check-in and security within 30 minutes.
As I look around me at all the other international travelers enjoying a cocktail before their flight, I can’t help but ask myself, “ are they going somewhere as crazy as I am? “ In most cases no! As I’m riding a British Airways flight most of them are probably going to a destination in Europe somewhere, though Africa and Asia aren’t out of the question. Who is going to the Middle East? Not many Americans that’s for sure.
Am I crazy? Why am I going to a place where Americans are openly disdained? Is it going to be as bad as it seems it would be? The reactions of people that I told I was going to go to Afghanistan were exactly what I would have predicted given the portrayal of the war on terror by American media. An incredulous “why?” was the overwhelming response to the statement. My sarcastic retort: “for vacation!”. Which of course brought even further incredulity.
Why? What a great question. Superficially this is a trip to visit my mother. Granted I do really miss my mother, but there is a whole host of other reasons that are a little closer to the truth of the matter. I was always able to resist my mom’s attempts at luring me out to Afghanistan in the past. However it is really the change in my own self that is allowing me the courage to undertake what will likely be the most challenging travel I’ve ever undergone. The past year of my life I’ve undergone a transformation of self that I feel has left me in the right spot to take this trip. There are things I want to prove to myself that this trip will allow. I truly love other cultures, people, and ways of life. In past travels I have found myself feeling homesick for the “good ole US of A” . This was more likely a function of missing loved ones back home than missing the way of life. This time I have no girlfriends back home waiting for me, nothing other than my wonderful family, which is always there. My girlfriend is actually in Japan right now, starting her own adventure, while I start mine.
What freedom! To take off and leave the country for two months without a thought to what is left behind. This is a wonderful feeling of independence and self direction. I’ve never really had this before, and it excites me.
I want to talk for a bit about the reactions and impressions of “my fellow Americans” upon hearing that I was going to Afghanistan. While in Montana I received the typical conservative American response. “Don’t get your head cut off by a terrorist” was pretty common, or “I’ll see you on CNN” was another good one. It was rare to hear anything other than a “you’re crazy” type of response. The idea that an American would go to Afghanistan for any reason other than military engagement was unreal to them. Most Americans these days see a middle eastern man and have a gut reaction of distrust. Although understandable given our history, its too much a “black and white” distinction, which Americans have become good at as of late. Most Americans believe that all middle eastern muslims hate America. Is this true? I think I know the answer to this question but would like to verify it with my own experiences. I’d like to compare the ideas Americans have of the region, people, and religion; impressions influenced by the intense media coverage on the matter as of late; to the facts on the ground in Afghanistan.
Are there differences between what is being portrayed here and the realities of the conflict? If there are then, is there a motive behind this or is it just reactionary? Is there true design behind the propaganda or is it just a function of fear run wild? Fear has caused terrible scenarios in the past. Consider the average German during WWII-did they all hate Jews? Probably not, but why would they let such horrible things happen under their noses? Fear. When a leader learns to wield fear upon his populace, he can get almost anything to seem reasonable. It is a tool that has been used and abused in the past. Is 21st century America a case of this? I hope not but fear it to be true.
So off I go, with lofty ideas and questions in my head, to one of the few places in the world where I probably shouldn’t go. Oh well, you only live once. Right?

Afghan Spirit...images from my trip into Pakistan

I just returned from a great trip to Pakistan with Mahbouba, her husband Hassan, and Ariane-all Afghan Americans with deep family roots in Afghanistan. Here are some whimsical images...I keep trying to find ways to express how funny, whimsical, creative and unexpected the Afghans are and I am getting some good pictures. We traveled down through Jalalabad, spending the night in Hassan's family estate...warm air and orange blossoms-palm trees. Onto the Khyber Pass and through hellishly chaotic border crossing...the austere looking gentleman owns the peacocks and he coaxed the male into showing his beautiful tail. Afghans love birds and this man was incredibly gentle with his birds and animals. The Afghan gentleman in the beautiful Russian scarf turban was on the border...homeless, hungry, slightly mad but happy in spirit and he had an amazingly stylish flair in his dress....the hard part about understanding the Afghan's and their plight is that there is really nothing pathetic about them. When we visited a model orphanage in Rawalpindi, the director commented about the difference between local cultures during the earthquake crisis and how many, many communities used the crisis as an opportunity to get as much in the way of services and money as possible...but the Pushtuns invoved that lived on the Afghan/Pakistan border were proud, gracious and they were barely willing to accept basic help from the donor agencies. She had utmost respect for the Afghans...the photo of the truck and mountain is the exact border crossing.