Snow Day in Afghanistan

Afghanistan has a history of conflict, from Alexander the Great, to Genghis Khan, to the last four decades beginning with the Russians, to civil/tribal war, and the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The history of violence is tied to the geography, with the country straddling the crossroads of trade routes and conquest. Even the terrain seems violent. The jagged Hindu Kush Mountains mountains climb out of expansive dunes on the edge of the southern desert. The mountains stone is young, rough and sharp edged, like the countries population. Their violent rise, not yet softened by weather, erosion and time.

PHOTO: Alexander's castle on a hill above the town of Qalat, Zabul Province.

The weather is just as extreme, assaulting you with triple digit temperatures, on cloudless, dry days in the summer months, followed by some bitter cold winter nights. Plus, a constant wind that is channeled by the mountains so consistently that even an aerial view of the dunes looks like the gods themselves are blowing the land to the east, up against the mountains like an ocean of earthen waves crashing against a jagged shore. In the summer, the wind feels like a gust of heat from an open oven, providing no relief from the high temperatures. While in the winter, the cold wind cuts through your clothes, saps your skin of moisture, and chills you to the bone.

One might think that snowstorms would be one more assault on the senses here, but I have found the opposite to be true. The storms we have had this year, have settled in softly, with the winds giving way to calm, allowing the flakes slow, silent fall to bring on an almost therapeutic calm. The fresh layer of white, softening the harsh, sharp angles of the landscape and covering the barren brown landscape and cityscape of brown mud walls and buildings. It also dampens the harsh light of the typical cloudless days, and low clouds soften and conceal the sharp peaks of the surrounding mountains.

In the south, the snow is rare, which makes it a treat for the locals with limited resources and entertainment. The rarity is highlighted when you see kids running around in the snow wearing nothing on their feet except for flimsy sandals. It raises spirits both for novelty of seeing snow in the desert lowlands, but also in hopes that it is falling harder, and piling up deeper in the mountains, to sustain the Spring run off that will support the crops as they struggle against the parching heat of summer.

For me, it has brought on the feeling of being snowed in, like I should hibernate with a blanket and a book, in a cozy room with a window... if I could find a room with a window. The soldiers spirits have been lifted as well, and I have seen an assortment of gun strapped snowball fights, snowmen in camouflage caps, and even igloos being built before the melt ensues. A tactical pause, brought on by the limited mobility on icy roads and passes and reduced air support as well. Though the laundry list of tasks at hand can often seem daunting, and tomorrow may be filled with mud and mayhem, the snow seems to absolve everyone of responsibility for a moment. Enjoying the day, like a child that just heard school has been cancelled on account of snow.

Neo-Colonial Warfare... have we got soft?

Sitting on a pleather-bound sofa, reading, as a theological discussion unfolds in the next room, and rocket attack warning sirens blare over the base intercom, the surreal situation unravels into a discussion of acceptable ways to die in a war zone. With many of the guys in the crowd waiting to fly home at the end of their tour, the first unacceptable mode of mortality is determined to be in a rocket attack, on your last day in country, while walking to the donut shop, which one only finds on a built-up base like Kandahar. We laugh, the sirens give way to the all clear, and then he excuses himself to head out for coffee and donuts.

And so it is in neo-colonial warfare, where support bases blossom into a desert oasis, with boardwalks and coffee shops. Where you can sit down with your coffee, a bagel, and a book and soak up some early morning sun, while French and British accents fill the air with discussions of going home, or just arriving, but little about the war outside these walls. And who can blame them with all the comforts of home within these confines, and all those without wanting in, or just wanting us out, so they can figure things out on their own. Instead, the great nations of the colonial days of yore are trying their hand at a new version of the old game. Living in the country, but not within the means of the country. Shipping in as many comforts of home as we can for our morale, and then wondering why no one seems to be rushing to get out.

My experiences in combat zones have seemed a bit like 'warfare lite,' when I compare them to the books and films about the conflicts of American history. It is possible that the comforts of war may not make it into the history books and movies, but I find it more likely that today's wars are not quite comparable. Vietnam may have had some comforts for the top brass in Saigon, and the same may have been true for the commandeered headquarters on the European front in WWI and II. But, when I think about the soldiers in combat, in foxholes, relishing an occasional shower and change of clothes, I think we have really gotten soft. Now hardship is limiting your daily shower to 2-5 minutes, having to do your own laundry -- or having to wait more than a day for laundry service to return it -- and limited Internet access.

Back then, the Infantry marched into war, now we drive. Statistics can be twisted, but a startling statistic comparing our fuel consumption per soldier, then and now, calculates a rate of 1 gallon per day per soldier in WWII and 15 gallons per day per soldier in today's conflicts. I assume that accounts for all the aircraft and vehicles' gas consumption, but I'm not sure if it also counts all the generators burning fuel to power the operation bases. Plus, the large bases have a whole fleet of civilian SUV's, or in military terms NTV's (Non-tactical Vehicles), to drive around the base, to and from the office, shopping center, or dining facility. When and if fuel supplies are limited, I might just have to walk, or catch a bus, because they even have bus routes on big bases. War would be hell, if I had to walk the three blocks to pick up a dozen donuts for the office.

Back then soldiers suffered frostbite and trench foot living in the foxholes. Now, we spend $20 billion a year on air conditioning and live in 'housing units.' Twenty billion for the AC, and who knows how much we spent on all of the housing units. One might argue that living in a Shipping container turned into a house is still a hardship, but they've actually become 'Industrial Chic' and people are paying good money to live in them in major urban areas around the globe. Seriously, google it. I actually just moved into one of these housing units -- after 'roughing it' in a tent for months -- and as everyone moved in, the crowded halls, the bunks, and wall lockers, meeting new roommates or neighbors, it actually felt like a college dorm on the first day of school.

Six months into my first deployment in 2004, I took my mid-tour leave, and met an older gentlemen dining alone at a local restaurant. We invited him to join us, and in the course of the dinner conversation I learned he was a WWII vet from the Pacific campaign. Since I was on leave, he told me about his 'mid-tour' leave. He headed home, three years after departing for the front! It took him about three months to get back to the states, riding on supply ships and warships back across the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean. I had covered about the same distance to get home on leave; however it took me less than a week. And, I had complained about having to wait two days in Kuwait to catch a commercial flight. Yep, I think we have gotten soft. Speaking of which, I think they still have some soft serve ice cream left in the dining facility. I better go get some now, or else I'll have to wait four hours until they open for dinner.

The Flight

My day started at three in the morning, only four short hours after the last had ended. I was catching a flight from Bagram to Kandahar aboard Gumby, the call sign of a contract twin prop, puddle jumping Cessna. The call sign is appropriate, as my flight was delayed two days due to 'maintenance.' The aircraft is the same type of plane I would fly, if I was catching a commercial flight from Denver to Wyoming.

However, over here, I don't have to deal with the hassles terrorism has brought to airline travel back home, even though I'm surrounded by the dangers of a combat zone. Instead, passengers with guns are expected, and luggage and passengers are not scanned. In addition, passenger are bused out to the aircraft and then become the part of the aircrew, helping load the baggage, and prep the aircraft for take off. This mornings flight was no different. Before loading the crew asked us to help push a trailer packing a generator over to wing in order to jump start the bird. A real confidence builder, especially after a two day delay for 'maintenance.' I quote maintenance, because, on occasion, pilots and crew will call a maintenance day to get a break from the grind of constantly flying the same routes... and in the Air Force maintenance problems reportedly crop up more frequently at the nicer lay-over locations; Spain, Germany, Greece.

Anyway, I was one of only two passengers for the trip and other than being employed as part of the ground crew the pilots treat us like frequent flyers. The safety briefing was treated even more like a formality than any stateside flight and was just short of, "The safety card is in your seat pocket. Any questions?"

My fellow passenger had actually flown with the crew before, so it was more like catching up with old friends. He informed me that the pilot was solid, which was good to know since the bird might be questionable with the recent maintenance delays. However, I was curious how he was able to assess this on a single flight. He must have read my mind, and he expanded on the statement stating that on the last flight the pilot took the plane into a steep banking dive on the approach to land. I'm not sure if this meant he was a good pilot, or the threat level was up, but either way it could make the flight a little more fun.

Once I had my co-passenger talking he didn't slow down. We briefly talked about what each of us did over in Afghanistan, and since I worked on computers he went into a story about his neighbor who also worked in IT, but had also joined the Hell's Angels. Immediately, I pictured a skinny, young kid with bottle cap glasses struggling to keep his hog upright, but apparently the guy actually looked the part, was tattooed, six foot something and over 300 pounds. I guess in reality he would have a harder time fitting into his IT department, which happened to be in the Department of Defense. Or it was, until Uncle Sam got word of his membership in the Hell's Angels and terminated his clearance. Apparently, the FBI was not real comfortable with the idea of a government employee with a top secret security clearance mingling with criminals in a biker gang. Surprisingly, this was a shock to the guy, and he was furious when he lost his clearance and job. However the drama didn't end there, and to add insult to injury, since he had been traveling with work or his bike gang, his wife moved in with another guy. As my single serving friend told me, 'He may have looked the part for the Hell's Angels, but he was huggin pillows on my couch and crying like a baby when the wife walked out.'

Guess it goes to show that you can't judge a book by it's cover. He ended up taking his wife back, and getting another IT job in New York; so he abandoned the neighborhood, and his $230,000 house for the big city where the IT crowd can roll with the Hell's Angels on the weekend, as long as the network doesn't crash while they're raising cain. I can just imagine the guy in a smoky, biker bar room brawl, about to break a pool quo over some guys head. Suddenly he stops, snags a blackberry off his belt, and takes a call from Betty in admin, who is about to break her coffee mug over a computer because the printer won't work. Instantly, he's transformed from killer to counselor, talking Betty down from the ledge with with some user friendly IT speak. The bar goes quiet, and when he finishes the call the rowdy crowd has calmed down, and lined up with their own laundry list of computer crises.

His next story was about the rest of his neighborhood, which was somewhere between Army Wives and Desperate House Wives. The neighborhood is full of military families, and is a secluded loop drive. In addition, the patriarchs are often deployed at the same time, so when they are away the women bond, and when they are home the place turns into a rowdy block party. When the parties break up the revelers often drive home on four wheelers or golf carts, and have been known to drift into the ditch along the road on their short drive down the block. One night, he found one of his friend passed out in the ditch, in a turned over golf cart, and carried him home; only to find that his wife had locked him out for partying too long. The only logical thing to do at that point was set him up on a inflatable mattress on the porch and let him sleep it off, 'til the wife came out in the morning for the paper, and he could roll inside.

The tales continued through the rest of the flight, and reminded me of the thing I liked most about the military: the sense of community and often even family, amongst the ranks. As a contractor I sometimes feel more like an outsider, or observer, looking in on the community that I left. It is mix of nostalgia and loss, but I'm glad I had privilege to experience it, and hope the Soldiers still in the service walk away with similar fond memories.

Random Ramblings from Afghanistan

So, I have fallen off the blog wagon, mostly because I was trying to keep to my chronological collection of travel tales. But alas, if I keep 'post'-poning until I'm inspired to pen my visit to Hong Kong, I may never get out of China. So here we are two years later. I've finished traveling Asia and New Zealand. Spent a winter ski bumming in Breck, a year in Afghanistan, and a few stops across the globe in between. Now I'm back in Afghanistan for another year of the ground hog days of deployment. To fill those days, I thought I should get back to the blogging, and to make it a whole lot more fitting to the title of Random Ramblings, I'll be jumping all over the place in both geography and topics of the posts . So without further ado, I find myself in Afghanistan debating our presence here and China's role as an extension (and a nice way to derail my traveling train of thought, which was sitting idle in Hong Kong)...

I guess I would say that our efforts in Afghanistan are another example of American Exceptionalism, historians refer to it as a place where empires go to die, and yet we Americans feel we will do it different, better, and this time Afghanistan will be a place Empires go to create and build new empires, or at least democracies. I'd like to believe it, but I think Afghanistan, and the Afghan people are going to have to sort that all out on their own, after we leave... whether we made a difference in the outcome of that pending storm, will not be known until the dust settles.

In the grand scheme, I suspect China will end up the big winner in the region and globally, when it is all said and done. In that light, it is not Afghanistan that is using us, rather China is indirectly pitting us against ourselves in an economic battle that we are largely ignoring. They are providing us with the capital to fight our wars, since we don't want to use taxes to raise the capital at home, and they then reap the benefits in Afghanistan, establishing mineral and mining rights using the security we are establishing in the country....

There have been some conspiracy theories that China is even funding al Qaeda. Although, I would support the argument that China has intentions and is taking actions to knock us off the top rung of the global ladder. Al Qaeda is primarily an organization created and largely funded by Osama bin Laden. Although it received money from many other sources, I doubt China is one of them. China has always been very leery of religion and religious groups because religion unites people, and therefore can threaten the state in the eyes of the Chinese regime. An example of China's efforts against religious organization in China can be seen in their treatment of the Buddhist's in Tibet, and the attempts of China to make the Buddhism of the region an extension of the state by emplacing religious leadership selected by the government. In addition, China has created computer malware/viruses, which was used to track the Dalai Lama and other religious/government entities outside of China in their continued attempts to control it's role in the state. With all that said, I don't think it would support al Qaeda because al Qaeda has a Pan Islamic platform, which would in turn also threaten China, and China has seen some Islamic 'terrorism'/revolts recently, which it has struck down with typical vigor.

Additionally, if China wanted to support al Qaeda, they would most likely have had to channel that support through other groups, as al Qaeda would not be very keen on accepting funding/guidance from an infidel state. Though it is possible, and would be a bit ironic that they were stealing US techniques, circa Charlie Wilson and the war in Afghanistan against the Russians, I don't see it as plausible.

However, as I said, I do believe China is taking advantage of the situation for it's benefit. It is using it's capital to fund our war... buying our securities, which puts us in a position of indebtedness that China uses as a playing card in politics. Also, as we spend our blood and treasure establishing security in Afghanistan, and China takes advantage of the security we are providing to establish mining and mineral rights in Afghanistan. Being very attune to the power of propaganda, they also have done some humanitarian work in Afghanistan, which further builds their position and influence in the country and region going forward.

Afghanistan is just one front in the economic war China is waging with the US. Keeping their currency under valued, stealing intellectual property through malware and other efforts, and allowing US companies to build factories and bring work and more technology to their country are a few more. Despite all of this going on extensively for the last two plus decades, the US largely ignores this second 'war front' and our actions both political and corporate are short sighted and often support China's efforts in the name of these short sided efforts/goals. For instance, we could pay for the war by raising taxes or selling war bonds, and allow US citizens to reap benifit of the interest on the bonds, rather than China, but instead we prefer to 'support the troops' in spirit, rather than cash. As Warren Buffet says, the thing that seperates a commitment from a conversation is writing a check. And the politicians know the quickest way to lose the support for the conflicts is to ask for greater commitment from the public pocket book...

I warned you my ramblings would have wider themes than my typical tourist observations and banter, but I doubt they will all end up this heavy... Hopefully they'll at least be a little more frequent.

Longji (16-18MAY)

Village of Ping'an, perched on the side of the terraced hillside. This was the second village we stayed in, after a day hike across the Longji Rice Terraces, and the sky had cleared just as we arrived, to give us a spectacular veiw of the valley. Small village where we stopped for a break during our day hike across the terraces. View of the valley partially cloaked in cloulds during our trek.

Serenading my new 'wife' during a traditional courting ceremony at the end of a presentation of folk song and dance.

Shops at the base of the village of Dazhaijust, at the beginning of our hike to our hotel, after eight hours on three different buses. Our hotel was on the ridgeline disappearing in the clouds in the background of the photo.

From Yangshuo we returned to Guilin, the hub of karst tourism, and then on to Longji. The weather was gloomy and gray, with rain showers and fog as we climbed into the mountains, but the lush landscape suggested that the rainy weather is common place. After our second bus journey of the day, we stopped at a small rest stop where we met our first group of women from the local Yao Tribe, which is famous for having the longest hair in the world. I would also contend that they are famous for their efforts to separate tourists from their Yuan. They were on us immediately, peddling all the local wares and post cards, and did not give up until we were pulling away in our final bus, where their last efforts to close a deal through the windows of the bus went un-rewarded. 

Our final bus ride brought us up a narrow, windy road without guardrails and sometimes only one lane for the bus traffic traveling at high speeds in both directions. The ride was a bit nerve racking for some, and we were all relieved when the bus pulled into a parking lot at the base of the village, which sprawled up the hillside into the low clouds. 

After about eight hours in three buses, we were more than happy to get out and hike the last few kilometers, even if it was trying to rain. Once we were off the bus, we almost had to wonder if the peddlers from the last stop had tailed us up the mountain, because their twin sisters where now trying to convince us that we would be better off paying them to carry our bags up the hill to our hotel, than carrying the bags ourselves. 

The importance of tourism in these areas was evident with the peddling, but became even clearer when we had to go through a ticket booth turnstile, like entering an amusement park, to get into the village. Since this was all part of my tour, I did not note the ‘price of admission’ for the village. After a short but steep hike up the terraced valley, we arrived at our hotel, which our guide had downplayed to be a spider-ridden dump. 

This was actually quite typical of Chinese culture and was a theme in our guides’ presentation of the trip throughout the journey. They tended to accentuate the negatives to allow guests to be pleasantly surprised, and/or disagree with compliments. Of course, due to the cultural differences, we were left needlessly dreading several stops along the trip, which actually turned out to be great experiences. 

The hotel was a warm timber structure with a large common area/dining area on the ground floor and rooms on the second and third levels. After getting settled in, we re-grouped for a dinner followed by a cultural show of local folk songs and dance. 

The women who put on the show, were part of the Yao tribe, like all the peddlers we had met on the way into the village, and began the show by bring out all the souvenirs they had to sale. The show did not begin until we had all had an opportunity to buy something, but it was an enjoyable show when it finally got underway. 

To close, the group of ladies performed a courting ceremony. The youngest woman in the group was blindfolded and placed in the middle of the room and the rest of the women joined the audience in a ring around the young woman. The bride to be, in the middle of the ring, was now supposed to select a groom from the ring of people circling her. This could prove challenging, since there were only three guys in the circle of about 20 people. So, when two of the woman’s cohorts slipped into the group on each side of me, I thought there was a pretty good chance I would end up the groom. 

 As suspected, she selected me as the groom, and we began a series of courting ceremonies to seal our ‘marriage.’ First we stood back to back and passed each other wedding gifts. Before the cultural show, I had purchased a small pouch to carry my ipod, which was the only thing I had to give as a gift. I bought a Snickers candy bar to put inside and passed it to my new wife. It turned out she had picked a similar pouch to give me, but since she didn’t have a Snickers bar, she gave me a pinch on the butt, when she handed me the gift. 

Next, we hooked arms and drank a shot of rice wine. I assume the wine was used to lubricate our larynx, since the final ceremony was to serenade one another with a love song. I went first, and sang ‘You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling.’ I suppose it was a little early in our relationship for us to have lost the loving feeling, but it was the first song that came to mind. 

She then sang me a traditional love song, which I later learned went something like: I don’t care how you look, as long as you love me. So, maybe the relationship wasn’t starting on the best terms. In hindsight, I should have then took her by the arm and headed upstairs to see how the group would have reacted. 

Instead, we capped the evening’s cultural exchange by teaching the women the ‘Hooky Pokey,’ which everyone had fun doing. In the morning, we awoke to more rain, and our guide gave us the option of skipping the trek across the terraces ridgeline by taking a bus instead. However, after the wild ride up the mountain in the bus the day before, and the incredible rice terraces stretched out before us, we chose to hike it. 

Fortunately, the rain let up shortly after we began the trek, and by the end, the sun was even breaking through the clouds. The trek was well worth it, and gave us a taste of the grand scale of the terraced mountain. The terraces cover over 60 square kilometers and the ridgeline is terraced from the river in the valley below, at an elevation of 350 meters, up to an elevation of 850 meters. 

With the wet weather, we rarely got a glimpse across the valley, but by the time we made it to Ping’an, the second village we stayed in, the clouds and fog had cleared enough to give us an incredible view of a fraction of the terraced valley stretched out before us. Sadly, several people in the group left the rice terraces with food poisoning, so our long trip to Hong Kong was going to feel even longer for some.