Citizen Reporter

This stretch of road, like so many in this city, is almost completely dark at night. No street light, no lights from houses (most of them are in ruins) and at this hour of night, no car headlights either.  One block down we can see the fancy supermarket which is conveniently open until midnight, always featuring an array of SUV’s of foreign contractors out front, and guarded by about 4 men in khaki fatigues wielding AK-47’s.

As I choose each step carefully to make sure I don’t step in a hole or an open gutter, I suddenly notice a steady noise in the darkness across the street.  It is the sound of a shovel and as my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I notice this person is working on the road. I scan the darkness and notice 2 or 3 more figures carrying tools and doing some kind of work on the road that looks like it might be paved in the next 24 hours.  These men work late at night in the dark…. I’m impressed they can see what they are doing.

Kabul is, for obvious reasons, not known for its night life and evening strolls.  But if you do dare take one you can watch the pomegranate stand guy close up his stand for the night. You can watch the bread store sweep up and take the last bread out of the window. You can experience the groups of Afghan police  attempting to communicate with you or talk about you in semi-English as you pass their roadblocks. And just when I thought no one else was out on the street, a gang of 5 children on rickety bicycles rolls by, just barely noticing me while negotiating the gigantic potholes in the road.

An Afghan friend, knowing that I’m new in town, takes us on a long drive around town… among the landmarks we see, the drab yet fascinating neighborhood built in the Soviet era, the incredibly fortified American military base that looks like something dreamed up in hollywood, and the most spectacular site of the night -the wedding centers- which look like Las Vegas casinos with extra christmas lights wrapped around them. Shining commercial temples against the backdrop of a town that goes quite dark and bleak at night.  No matter which direction the car turns, way up ahead in any direction are the mountains. Even at this hour, still towering over us with pockets of small white lights.

Kabul during the day is infamous for its chaos, a chaos that is often frustrating, but when you least expect it, a chaos that can somehow make you laugh or learn to let go and just let the city do what it needs to do.

No time to explain. Almost no time to pack. So let’s not waste anymore of what is already so precious.

My arrival in Dubai was in the dark which is perhaps a good thing for someone who thought he understood what hot weather was.  Even late at night, everyone is kind, helpful, and I can’t help but notice way too many doormen, desk people, greeter, general I-don’t-know-what-person.  All these people work here?

Fast-forward, 8h30am and I’ve arrived at the Afghanistan consulate early, since getting the Visa today is pretty much the key to this entire journey.  Naturally its around back that people sit around a plastic table and chairs next to an air-conditioner using every bit of its mechanical strength to provide a touch of less than steamy air. I walk in, scan the room, nod my head towards everyone, and take a seat.

As I steal glances at the faces around me, 2 things strike me:

1- The are all wearing (except for one gentleman who is likely reading this text) the comfy looking white pajama like clothing which I think is typical in desert nations.

2- With my beard now at a good level of thickness, and a lightly tanned face, some of these guys look like me! Or is it that I hope to look like them, in order to one day fit in once I get there?

An hour later the men in pajamas are almost all gone, replaced by western looking contractor types. Irish, Canadian, American, South African, Japanese…many are polite and friendly, both to me and when they speak with staff.  Others seem in a rush or wanting to have things their way in a situation where I seriously doubt you can dictate terms.  I listen to an older grey haired woman chat in Afrikaans with a white bearded gentlemen who just arrived.  Only one day since leaving the Netherlands but I get a little thrill to hear a variation on Dutch.  They discuss how many times they’ve now been through this process.

I stop listening. Too much to soak in if I’m going to start listening to every conversation.  Eventually after a long wait, a strange window opens and people look towards myself and another gentleman who arrived first. He lives in Afghanistan for some years now.  I start to find some strange comfort from meeting a few polite and upbeat westerners who are eager to get back to Kabul and relaxed about the Visa process.  Not that being un-relaxed would help any.

Hours later my visa is ready. My plane ticket to Kabul is booked. I have a few hours and one short night in Dubai. The temperature is something cruel far above 100F /40C. It is Ramadan so it feels impossible to find an open restaurant (i think its illegal?). I want to give up and sleep in the comfy bed til it is time to fly, but then I hear the voices and I see the messages on facebook… go explore.. go see what this Dubai has to show you in the limited time you have. Come morning, being a tourist is no longer a safe idea, and there is work to be done.

A few months ago I was invited as a guest on the lunchtime leaders podcast, a program produced by a group of enthusiastic middle school students in Connecticut. Moreso than most interviews I can remember, I had a great time answering their questions, and I really stand by my answers. So I figured to share the link with you, give it a listen and let them (or me) know what you think.