Going to Mazar

March 19, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Salang pass » Near the Salang tunnel

Already shortly after I arrived here in Kabul, I decided I would go to Mazar-e-Sharif to enjoy to Iranian new year on the 21st of March. Initially, my first accomplice was Alexandra, not the worst person to join me, if only for the fact she's got a nice 4×4 with which we could drive up to Mazar.
As the new year edged closer, more and more people wanted to come along, until at some point more then 10 people were attached to the trip. However, slowly but surely, everyone dropped out, some for having too much work on their hands and others for security reasons, being told that either Mazar was too dangerous or the road to Mazar was too much of an adventure.
The last people to bow out were Lyn with her two friends,and Giovanni. It meant only Lev and I were left. In a car, with driver, we had managed to borrow from DACAAR. From more then ten, we were now down to only two.

Over the past weeks, I tried to get an idea of what the journey to Mazar would be like. To get there, the only real option if you travel by road, you have to go through the Salang pass. Built in 1964, it was the highest tunnel ever constructed. Massoud, the lion of Panshir blocked the entrance during the civil war to try and deny the Taliban access to the Panshir valley. Reopening only a couple of years ago and closed during 2003 for renovations, the tunnel supposedly is only open in one direction each day, in a vain hope to minimize accidents and block access completely.
The alternative, not using the Salang tunnel and crossing the Hindu Kush by going around it, means driving for 20 to 30 hours. From the intelligence I gathered, it seemed that if we were able to go through the Salang tunnel, we would have to expect to be driving for some 12 hours.

Of course, flying was something of an alternative, although a bit steep at 100 dollars per one way ticket, assuming there was room on some of the planes going north. As DACAAR staff, it's actually possible to obtain free tickets on certain flights, but only one (or two, the accounts differ) employee can get a free ticket, per flight.
When the group was down to four, it seemed pointless to try and much less fun to fly anyway.

The drive was truly fantastic. Not knowing how long it would take, we kept a steady pace with some short breaks and a half hour lunch stop. The whole trip took us eight hours. Traffic was easy and the road was more than good. Although some parts of the trip we had to do on dirt roads and although we had to cross a small river by going through it on some point where, on our way back, several regular cars got bogged down, 80 to 90 percent of the trip was done on freshly tarmacked roads past really beautiful scenery.

The Salang pass is at roughly 3500 meters, meaning that from Kabul, at around 1800 meters and after crossing through the Shomali plains, you slowly climb up the Hindu Kush and into the still snow-capped mountains, before entering the three kilometer long snake's belly. At the other end, you slowly descend from the Hindu Kush and drive through fantastic green valleys, past wildly flowing rivers, mountains all around you, until you enter the northern steppes which turn into desert before changing into Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan or Tajikistan.
Particularly during the last stretch of the trip, I was very much reminded of the Mongolian landscape and on our way back, I think I even saw a ger, or, more likely, a yurt.

The road we took, up north, was also the path the Russians took invading the country, starting in 1979. Testament to this were not only the many mine fields still littered around parts of the road, but also the many bombed out Russian shacks and the many Russian tanks, some being blast to pieces, that you can see everywhere near the road or, closer to Mazar, in the distant fields around the highway.
Another testament to the fighting were the many unused electricity and telephone poles dotting the landscape, many blast to smithereens, being caught in some perverted ballerina's pose, folded up in unlikely configurations.

Finding accommodation had been quite a struggle. Since there's no phone book for Afghanistan and since the expats who've visited Mazar and know about the hotels in that city are few and far between, it took quite a while before we made any headway.
We knew there's a UNICA guest house (in principle only for UN people) in Mazar, but how to get the number? Through Alexandra, I was forwarded to Jesper, who forwarded me to a friend, who forwarded me to the UNICA guest house in Kabul (yes, even that number was hard to get), who gave me the phone number of the manager of the UNICA in Mazar. Then we still had to get a room.
When Lev called, back then still trying to get rooms for eight people, we were told they only had two single rooms available. As a start, and at 35 dollars per day, per room, we could hardly turn them down.

Arriving in Mazar, we didn't know where the UNICA actually was and the guest house's manager was unreachable by phone. We drove down to the city center, straight to the mosque, only to find the Hotel Barat right next to it.
It made sense to check it out and, to our surprise, they still had many rooms available. We considered staying there, but wanted to try and get into the UNICA first, considering the rather expensive 50 bucks per room at the Barat only as a last resort.
Azif, our driver, managed to call up some friends and with their help we managed to get to the UNICA guest house. A fifteen minute walk from the mosque, but a beautiful country house with huge rooms, a grand garden, a nice bar and fantastic food. What was more, we got one room for the three of us, with three double beds, at the earlier mentioned 35 bucks per night. The choice was simple. And the fact that we weren't UN also didn't seem to bother anyone.
The guest house appeared to be nearly, but not completely, full, mostly with travelers like ourselves, one party of which consisted of some 12 Frenchies, two of which had also been at the previous day's Hash.

After a great dinner, some nice Bacardis and chats with the other guests, we slept like babies, not even disturbed by the snoring champion in our room.
And in the morning, hot running water and real showers. A dream.

100!

March 18, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » The Blue House

Today, the 100th Kabul Hash was a reality. Running around the tomb of Nader Shah was topped off by a rather large circle of some 35 hashers, before going to dinner and drinks at the Croation restaurant Zadar, where too much but very nice food was served. The only puzzling thing being the shrimp curry, something I’m sure isn’t really Croatian.

Still some snow

March 12, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Pagman » Triumphal arch

Literally, in days, the weather switched from cool days and ice cold nights to warm days and acceptable nights. Reason enough to take the car and drive some 20 kilometers out of town to Pagman, the place where king Amanullah in the late 20s had gardens and a triumphal arch built, copied from European designs, after the king’s visit to Europe.
Although the area became a Mujaheddin battleground in the late 80s and early 90s and most of the buildings were completely destroyed, the arch is currently being renovated and the scenery is still quite spectacular.
After driving up as far up the Hindu Kush our car could take us and the mine-warnings let us, we walked around for a while, with Giovanni at times acting as a mountain goat, occasionally getting stuck waist deep in snow, before heading back and enjoying some very lekker yogurt from some sheep herder who had been waiting for us to return.

After this, dead tired, and some kebabs at a small Afghan restaurant, we headed out to Nader Shah’s tomb, this time to also check out the grave sites downstairs, where the mother, father and wife of the current ‘father of the nation’ are buried.
The tomb, also all but completely destroyed during the civil war, is said to be renovated this year.

After we dropped off Khelid, Parvaiz took us down to one of the Bazaars. I managed to get copies of Bullet, a new Bollywood movie directed by an Afghan, and Sholay, an old Bollywood movie starring Amitabh Bachchan AND a very nice Shalwar Kameez. Now I only have to check whether it really fits.
Nearing the end of our shopping spree, Parvaiz wanted to by a VCD player, his third, this one to use with a car battery. Don’t ask.
Walking into the building where a plethora of shops were selling all kinds of electronics, it felt we were walking into one of the street scenes from Bladerunner.
Already getting dark, the lighting was gloomy and with there being no electricity, the courtyard of the six-floor building, where balconies all around supplied walkways for the many shops facing the courtyard, was lined with puffing and loudly purring generators, making a walk inside the building more hazardous than smoking a packet of cigarettes per day.
Because general electricity was lacking, only the insides of shops were light, using the generators, the stairways being completely dark. Occasionally a problem, particularly when we bumped into small kids carrying 37 inch TVs on their back. And then there were the guys racing around the balconies on bikes and motors.
All the shops and balconies were stuffed with boxes, filled with TVs, DVD players, satellite receivers, and almost anything you can imagine. On the roofs of the shops that had been set up in the courtyard, empty boxes had gathered to form a soft and instable pyramid, ready to crumble under too much rain.
Dazed and confused, Giovanni and I stumbled around, until Parvaiz had found the 20 dollar VCD player of his choice.

And then, if the day hadn’t been long enough already, some guys from work showed up to smoke sheesha and chat away the hours into the late evening.

Toyota country

I am not joking when I say that about 90 percent of the normal cars on the roads of Kabul are Toyota Corolla. Yes, this is true. Then, of the vans, another 90 percent are Toyota TownAce. Some stray Mercedes, here and there a Hyundai, but that’s it. Only the 4×4 cars have reasonable diversity amongst them, although here too, many are Toyota.

On our way back from Pagman, we drove past a number of car dealers. It is amazing to see so many different versions of one particular car, the Toyota Corolla, and noone, noone, seeming to notice the awkwardness of this.
I asked Parvaiz why there were so many Corollas in this city. His first reaction: “Don’t you like this car?”. It does seem that Afghans like their Toyota Corolla.

The spirit of Afghanistan

March 11, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Some buzkashi stadium

Although planning to do another hash today, which was going to be less interesting anyway, due to last week's killing and the resulting increased security, we ended up enjoying a buzkashi game. A free translation of buzkashi is something like 'goat dragging', and that's what it is.
You get a bunch of players, sturdy men on horseback, who try to drag a dead goat, first around a flag, on the far end of a field about the size of a soccer pitch, before dragging it back and dropping it inside a circle. Not many more rules exist and although this was a game of two teams, apparently, the more interesting games are played between many individuals.

Being one of the first games this season, it was obvious the players were practicing more than actually playing hard. That is, until after the first intermission, when the stakes were raised, meaning more money for each point made, and more violence broke out on the field.
Each time two points were scored by dropping the dead goat in the circle, running with the goat around the flag only gets you one point, the winning player would have his horse walk up to the stands and receive money from particular spectators.

Apparently, nowadays, the games are staged between groups being run by the country's major warlords, managing and paying complete teams of buzkashi players being rather expensive in the first place.

The biggest and most spectacular game is set for next Monday, in Mazar-e-Sharif, during the celebration of the new year.
It is said that the game is played much more in the north of the country and that, because it is in effect the Northern Alliance who has the most control of Kabul, they are now also pushing to get it off the grounds here in the capital.
However, judging from the number of spectators, they still have a while to go since in total, maybe some 300 people attended, of which half or so were foreigners, many of which were arrogant foreign military.

The game was introduced by the Mongolians and if you're aware of the 'three manly sports' they still celebrate in Mongolia, it is no surprise this morphed into buzkashi somewhere down the line. Considering the dead goat is occasionally weighed down to a scary 100 kilograms, it should also not be a surprise that the two manly games of wrestling and horse racing did come together in one sport. Makes you wonder how the archery, the third manly sport, originally fit in.

In the evening, Jagoda's people at the Norwegian Refugee Council threw a party but had given everyone wrong directions, meaning much less people showed up as planned. On the positive side, that left more food and drinks for the people who did show up and somewhat of a private show when Jagoda and some Italian chick decided to dance on the table near the end of the evening.

The murder plot thickens

March 09, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » DACAAR expat house

So no free Tai buffet tonight at the Mustafa. According to the waiters, it's on Thursday. Nonsense because the girl who cooks the Tai food works at the Intercontinental in the beauty parlor. They close on Tuesdays, leaving her the time to make a great dinner for the Mustafa hotel.

Anyway, the drink and dinner were nevertheless very interesting. Turns out, the guy who was shot here in Kabul, the other day, had a rather hot temper. What's more, he was NOT going to marry after leaving the country this Friday. That is, he was already married, to a Cuban girl, who had visited Kabul to see him, before he made it clear he didn't want to see her anymore. Then he got this other girl pregnant.
What's more, the man has been in jail, for having a relationship with an Afghan woman or, so it is said, women. Here, the minister of the department he was working for, bailed him out.
But there's even more. There's even talk of him having had a relationship with a woman, in a way which would have been illegal in most countries in the world.

It doesn't seem the drugs connection holds. It seems the sex/love/disrespect card has been played here. Plain and simple revenge. Sicilians couldn't have done it any better.

I win

Meanwhile, succes at DACAAR. I've guided DACAAR into an agreement with ARDS, who are preparing a project called eAfghanistan which aims to be a library of all official documents on and from Afghanistan.

To kill a mockingbird

March 08, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Dutch embassy

It’s all over the news, a British aid worker was shot dead yesterday, here in Kabul, a 3 minutes walk from my frontdoor.

Although this sounds quite bad, at first, specifically taking into account that some people I know knew the man personally. What’s more, the man was about to marry and also about to become a father, with his wife residing in the US, set to leave Kabul at the end of the week.
However, looking at the incident more closely, some interesting things come up:

1. After chilling at the Elbowroom (where I had dinner only two days ago), he left in a marked ministry car (he was working for the Ministry of Rural Rehabilitation and Development) but was immediately followed by two cars, one of which, at least, was a black 4×4.

2. While one of the cars stayed behind his vehicle, the second cut him off, right infront of the Dutch embassy and also infront of the UNICA guest house (for UN people only). This road, particularly this stretch, is controlled quite a bit. The Dutch embassy and the UNICA have guards posted outside, 24×7.

3. The Brit was shot dead, the killer only needing one bullet.

4. The Brit was working on a rural credit scheme, one of its aims being to reduce the dependence of farmers on growing opium.

To me it’s obvious: The man was executed, this action was very much targeted at him, not at the expat community in general.

However, DACAAR issued a directive today, stating that, until more information becomes available ‘All expatriate staff must restrict unnecessary movement in Kabul city after 20.00 hours’.
DACAAR claims it allows its employees full freedom, only advising on safety measures. Not, so it seems. DACAAR is following the recommendation from ANSO, the Afghanistan NGO security office (what a crappy site!).

Crap! Crap! Crap!

And we were planning to go the Mustafa tonight, enjoying free Tai food and cheap beers.

What’s more, our plan of visiting Mazar-e-Sharif next week with now rooz might now become hellishly difficult, DACAAR not letting us go out of the city…

Small world

And, yes, it’s a small world. A good friend of mine from Mongolia, his wife, she knew the guy from high school.

Relaxing in Kabul

March 05, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Afghan national museum

Because on Thursday I was still struggling badly with my cold, I didn't go out at all. The same reason why I staid in bed until 1pm. But the more reason to get out of the house and do a hash. Besides, I had to pay up today to get the discount for the 100th Kabul Hash, coming up on March 18.
It was a relaxing city hash, where we got to see some shops selling coats made out of dog fur and a typical Soviet underpass underneath what probably is Kabul's most busiest square. Not that it's dangerous to cross, since all cars nearly don't move at all here.

Afterwards, Giovanni and I stopped at Lev's, where one of his housemates was giving something of a going away party. However, because the party had started at the awkward time of 1pm, it was already basically over by the time we arrived..
That is not to say we didn't have any fun. Good drinks and wonderful food made for an enjoyable evenings before we headed off to home again. Rather early, but I was still recovering.

On Saturday, we visited the National Museum of Afghanistan. Renovated with the help of the Japanese, the place was completely bombed out, not unlike its neighbor, the Darulaman palace. Now, the museum is again open for business and is currently showing a very decent and interesting exhibition; art from Nuristan, the province in Afghanistan where some of Alexander the Great's people decided to set up shop, after they had gotten too tired of his military campaigns.
Interestingly, some of the art reminded me of Celtic work, and of old northern European work, but also of ancient Mesopotamian stuff.
While we were there, the museum was overtaken by hordes of Afghans, students at the Kabul university, being trained as teachers for high schools in the country. Afghanistan, where until not so long ago women were not allowed to go to school, has a huge shortage of schools and teachers. Many NGOs are working on improving this situation. It was nice to see that many Afghans are working on this as well.

Afterwards, picking up several people, meaning that Raymond had to sit in the back of the car, we went over to the Kabul Zoo.
No, Marjan the lion no longer lives there. Marjan, 40 years old in 2002, died after having survived a lot of hardships. He had lost one eye and had become lame, after quite an incident. A Talib fighter had climbed in to the cage, after which the starving lion ate the bastard. The poor man's brother later came back to throw a grenade into the cage, leaving the lion blind and lame.
Now, with some help from the Chinese, the zoo has gotten two new lions, three bears and some other animals. Probably the most striking residents are four pigs, one of which was being treated while we were there.
Some 8 Afghanis were trying to catch the animal with ropes, constantly jumping away when the pig would make an awkward move, scared as they were of the filthy animal.
When standing next to one of the pigs' cage, an Afghan walked up to us: "How do you call this animal?", "Pig". "Is it filthy?" As a matter of fact, it was, being painted half purple and red.

After the zoo, we headed over, once more time, to Babur's gardens, again. Again we missed the cockfight, but we did find an interesting swimming pool-like enclosure. Pleasantly enough, no annoying kids on the grounds of the garden today. We saw plenty of those around town, where our car got washed a total of four times today, although every time I made it clear I didn't want my car washed.
Ah well, the result is always a bit of spectacle, calling each other names while smiling and me ending up giving them 10 to 30 cents anyway.
The last time the car got washed, in front of Chief Burger, I tried to make it absolutely clear I didn't want the car washed. When I came back, the car was completely washed. Wheels, bumpers, sides, windows, the whole deal. Five kids were asking for money and after some words I gave them 10 Afghanis, some 14 cents. But when Raymond, before climbing into the back of the car again, suggested I really should pay more, I took out another 15, in 2 Afghani notes. The crowds went wild.

Reflections

March 04, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » DACAAR expat house

I mentioned before that I find it very surprising that so many of the expats I meet in Kabul have not ‘served’ somewhere else. Now, after a couple of weeks, I’ve noticed something else: many of the expats who *have* served somewhere else before, served in Bosnia.
It is, of course, easy to see. If you’ve worked in Bosnia, dangerous, religous conflict, yadayadayadayada, you must surely also be able to work in Afghanistan.

On a related note, having worked in several developing countries myself, I find that Afghanistan is doing quite well. Knowledge of the English language is fairly widespread, no doubt helped by so many Afghan refugees having spent years and years in Pakistan.
Also, I find people fairly easy to work with. They could be more assertive, sure, but they could also not listen.

My theory is that Afghanistan stands a very reasonable chance of ‘survival’, because they’ve had a very reasonable not-so-distant past. Earlier, I read an article about some contractors responsible for rebuilding some of the roads in this country. By chance, they came across an engineer who had built many of the Afghan roads in the 50s and 60s. He was not only able to tell them what he did, but also why he did it. Well-educated, the man was an example of what, only recently, Afghanistan had to offer. Now, many of the ‘young guns’ have fathers and grandfathers to refer to, when talking about development. It is not talking about something that might happen, one day. It’s about getting back to how things were, not so very long ago. People have something to look forward to and to look up to, knowing that this something has already been achieved in the past.

That is not to say that everything goes as smoothly. Last Tuesday, at Alexandra’s dinner, I talked to an older man who clearly was very bitter about the way Afghans were functioning. The man was running a construction business but had been away from Denmark for 25 years, five of which he had been working in Tanzania.
Surprisingly, he was enchanted about Tanzania but, as said, very bitter about Afghanistan.

Get down on your knees and beg

Today, after eating at chief burger and leaving the snack place, we were harassed by some kids, for money. Deciding that I indeed had splurged on a $1.25 burger, I gave two kids 10 afghani each, $0.20. Immediately, and I mean immediately, people came up to us, from all directions, asking for money, pulling our shirts, coats, tapping on our shoulders, constantly demanding attention. Even after climbing into the car, they’d stand around, tap on the glass, begging for some change. Kids, some old men and a woman in burqa.
Compensating, we stopped at the Flower Street Cafe and ordered some cinnamon buns to hand out in the office.

Communication

I’m being interviewed for the DACAAR newsletter. A more-or-less monthly magazine, read to bits ‘in the field’ and also shipped to Denmark to keep the sponsors happy. The questions, of course, are about the possibilities of communicating more efficiently within DACAAR and of the future of Afghanistan, in relation to its current technical situation.

It is surprising that, at the office, we have a very decent internet connection of, apparently, 256Kb down and 128Kb up. The problem is the price, rather steep at $900 per month. Back home, in the Netherlands, I get a connection at 50 times the speed at less then 10% of the price.
But although prices will come down a bit over the next couple of years, they will only come down marginally. There is no masses to convert. Most houses don’t have any wires going in, except maybe dodgy electricity.
Surprisingly, cable TV appears to be thriving. How that got off the ground, despite the widespread use of satellite dishes is, yet, quite a mystery.

Warmer

You can tell it’s getting warmer because the bottle of olive oil, residing in one of the cupboards in our kitchen, is no longer completely frozen.

Doors

And what’s up with doors in this country. It’s as if these people have a huge fetish for small doors. So often, I have to bow deep just to get through a friggin’ door. Already, a couple of times, drunk with sleep, I banged my head walking in to the bathroom, forgetting I had to bow.
Are these people trying to force themselves to be humble? I know that in at least some Buddhist cultures, they make the entrance door too small, so that the ghosts of ancestors can’t enter. They can not bow, you know. But here, the entrance doors are almost always big enough, it’s the doors inside the houses that occasionally cause problems.

Drinks and pain

March 03, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Dutch embassy

I’ve been struggling quite a bit this week. Not because the work is bad, but mostly because my PC has not been acting as if it wants to be friends with me. On Sunday, my PC started to break down. On Monday, it completely crashed and it took me till today, Thursday, to get back up to speed.
It’s been a struggle. Not only because, although my laptop has one of the few legal licenses within DACAAR, I still had to activate it by calling Pakistan, getting an, of course, pirated copy of Norton Antivirus to work was a real pain. Nevertheless, slowly slowly, my PC has started to function again.

Meanwhile, you might have noticed that this blog’s entry on Dubai and the two most recent on Kargha dam and the recent hash have become very popular. I haven’t yet deduced where these visitors come from, but I have a feeling that the rather buggy service from Technorati is running rather badly managed overtime.

On Tuesday, we had dinner at Alexandra’s place. She had managed to get together a quite colorful combination of expats for a meal, prepared by Sikander’s cook, an Afghani who had cooked for him while he was working in Pakistan. Basically, the Afghani has learned how to cook Pakistani/Indian dishes.
This night, making dinner for 10, the man had outdone himself, making all sorts of very, very decent dishes. Maybe the man is for sale?
Dinner at Alexandra did mean we had to miss the free buffet at Mustafa, something that has already been adopted as a ‘sad bastards dinner’ by the hash. Next week.

And the weather is starting to become really pleasant too. During the day, it can already get up to 20 degrees in the sun, if you manage to stay out of the winds. And lighting up the bukhari at night is now only pleasant, no longer required to be able to go to sleep.
Meanwhile, nature has seemed to hit back with your average, run-of-the-mill dust attack. But nature still has some months to improve on her dust-making.

Meanwhile, I’ve caught a cold. Something several people at work are also currently suffering from. Struggling all day, today, added pain was my arrival, last night, at 2am, after partying way too long.
The evening started at the Dutch embassy, where every first Wednesday of the month, the ambassador holds an informal social event. Crowded with military in army fatigues, I felt under siege but had some nice conversations, even meeting a girl, working for the embassy, whom I turned out to have a fellow acquaintance with in Delft.
After that, it was a very decent but rather expensive dinner at Springfield, together with DACAAR’s financial manager, an Italian who talked like Tony from the Sopranos and two Iranians, one guy working for PWC and one babe, Maryam Shahriar, a film maker. Then, after stopping at l’Atmosphere, we headed off to Cascades, where we played crappy pool before heading home. I was wasted and sooooo tired.

Christians and Moghuls

February 26, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Babur gardens

Giovanni went off to work today, as usual on a Saturday, taking the car with him. Not a problem, given the most excellent weather. Just when I was to leave for a walk, Jagoda, a friend of Lyn's who had joined me on the Hash, called to say she had lost her phone yesterday and was considering she lost it in front of our house, when her driver dropped Lev and myself off after returning from the run.
My first stop was our street corner, struggling in Farsi (but managing quite well, I thought), explaining I had lost my phone yesterday and asking if the sellers on the corner had seen or knew anything. Of course they didn't and I continued on my way to the 'British cemetery.

The cemetery is only occupied by a handful of foreigners who died in Kabul over the last 100 years or so. The latest memorials were put up for ISAF soldiers who died on missions in the country.

After the cemetery, collecting both the car and Giovanni from the DACAAR offices, we drove down to Babur's gardens. Built by the Moghul shah Babur, as a grave site for him and his wife, the gardens were, at some point, spectacular. And although they started renovation some two years ago, they still have a very long way to go.
We arrived just after a good cockfight was finished and had to do with the standard batch of annoying kids, trying to make some money, cleaning your car, talking to you in Hindi or just plain and simple pulling your shirt and asking for baksheesh.
We managed to fight our way through, only mildly injuring some five year olds (hey, kids' bones heal easy anyway) before heading back, stopping at the French bakery along the way. They have good bread and cakes, but their winner is the home-made yogurt. Kick-ass finesse.

Then, before dragging ourselves through the dust clouds that were traffic, we also stopped at the Hotel Intercontinental to visit the DACAAR store. Here, Afghan refugee women living in camps in Pakistan sell their embroidered works.
The quality is very high and the hats, cases, shirts and shalwaar kameezes are very, very fine. However, things are also not as cheap as you might expect. Still, Giovanni bought both a pakul and a body warmer and I will definitely return before I leave this land of the blue sky.

Meanwhile, Shandiz, the Iranian restaurant, is starting to be my favorite hang out. It is the only restaurant which I've been to, so far, which actually looks like a real restaurant. All the other places, many of them serving decent food, are regular houses, converted to restaurants. Meaning the rooms are small and crowded and the ceilings are low.
It is also the best restaurant I've been to, so far. Although the vegetarian dish is crap: I was expecting spinach but got canned mushrooms, beans and chick peas. The other dishes are mouthwatering good. And they have sheesha.

Out and about

February 25, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Kargha dam

A very tiring day, with Pervaiz showing up at our house before 10am, ready to drive to Kargha dam. When, yesterday, he asked me, in the office, if I would like to visit the dam, he realized he had to ask Lev too, who's sitting right next to me. Then, Giovanni also wanted to come and finally, shortly before leaving, Lyn also joined, meaning we had a full car leaving Kabul.
Although Giovanni was quite pushy, hoping we would cave in and drive on to Pagman, already the road to the dam was so tricky at times, getting stuck once or twice, we realized Pagman really wasn't an option.

The scenery was absolutely fantastic, with the mountains still covered in snow and the sun brightly shining.
We passed the Kabul golf course, a UNICEF school, nothing but a collection of tents, and a military training ground.

Due to the drought of recent years, the reservoir is fairly empty, although we should have taken more notice of how deep it still was, before we walked on the ice and, indeed, fell through, right at the very end, getting quite wet in the process.
Walking on the ice, it was so quiet we could actually hear the ice melt gentrly, like water slowly trickling down a mountain stream, or tiny silver bells tingling in a slight breeze.

Struggling to get out of the water, and after walking up the steep banks, getting rid of the swimming pools that had formed in my shoes, another car showed up with four guys from work. Lots of fun, oranges and nan and, for the first time in what must have been 25 years, I was taken in by a particular joke being played on me: three of the guys seriously looking up, pointing up into the sky, as if something interesting was happening overhead. You know the drill.
Looking up once, twice, three times, I had no clue what they were staring at and, even, talking about, before it dawned on me I was being fooled.
Notwithstanding the joke, I can easily imagine filling your weekends like this, in an environment (nearly) free of cable TV, Playstation and high speed internet.

In the afternoon, we were back in time for the Hash. Unfortunately a very small group, but a fantastic walk.
The Soviets, back in the day, supplied Kabul with an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Right on top of the Bibi Mahro hill, with a 360 view of the city. We climbed up the hill and were almost overcome by the truly fantastic view. The melting snow had made half of the hill into quite a bit of a mess, meaning we occasionally had to slidder up and down, covering ourselves in mud.
The pool, no longer used but still with a three-level diving board standing right next to it, is now used as a football pitch, while a broken down tank sits quietly, close to the edge.
What were these Soviets thinking? The view is stunning, but there isn't even a decent road going up. And there's literally nothing on top of the hill besides the pool and a large billboard.

Standing on top of the hill, we also had a great view of the south western part of the city, where many Soviet-style buildings have been put down, including a huge hospital, which would fit perfectly in any Russian provincial capital

The run was, however, very tiring, over two hours long because with no hare amongst the walkers, we ended up walking the path for the runners, who ended up at our destination almost an hour before we did.
The gathering place, housing no less then 12 Americans, was as luxurious as you'll ever get in Kabul. With a roof-terrace the size of a soccer pitch and rooms the size of squash courts, with private bathroom, it was as good, nay better, as any place most people ever get to live in.

After getting back from the dam and getting ready for the hash, I was trying to get my socks and shoes to dry while sipping tea at Lev and Lyn's place. I noticed they actually had a lovely cat hanging around, waiting to be petted.
I tried to convince Giovanni to take in the cat, but he wouldn't have it. It seems I'll be making frequent trips to Lev's.

Frenchies

Early in the week, Lyn dropped some information, saying that the French were giving a party on Thursday. Assuming it was going to be like the Italian's party from last week with loads of free drinks, mainly strong stuff, everyone wanted to go.
Turned out it was invitee-only and Lyn, herself vying for the title of Kabul's socially most active woman together with probably Jacqueline and Jagoda, hadn't even received an invitation herself.
We hooked up to a group of 25 people, who were drinking at l'Atmosphere, the French restaurant, before going to the party. When we went, we drove in some 7 cars, aimlessly, around Kabul, trying to find the French place.

Struggling but managing, occasionally getting bogged in, in the slowly melting streets of Kabul, we managed to find the place. Filled with expats, a significant part of which were cute and tiny French girls who all seemed to be called 'Amelie'. But virtually no drinks.
I managed to confiscate a bottle of white wine and shared it, mostly, with Lev. By the time it was finished, we were finished and we drove off, collecting Giovanni in the process.

Note: One of today's pics is by Giovanni.

When the food is good…

February 22, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Mustafa hotel

Gone, another day of hard work and it was time to relax. Giovanni, Lef and I decided to have dinner at Mediteraneo. We were not successful; the place has shut its doors.
Overshadowed by this loss, we had to come up with an alternative so we hopped over to the Mustafa hotel, where beers cost a friggin’ 4 dollars and drunken American contractors were loudly complaining about the problems they were encountering in this country. Now, I don’t say they deserve the scorn of the world, but… Well, actually, I do.
Notwithstanding, to make things right, we had free Thai buffet and as many games of pool we could play. The food was great and our qualities at the pool table weren’t.
Zorro could not have played with more stealth. Giovanni had some cool moves up his sleeve, but Lev and I would have made a blinded cripple ashamed of our stunts.
On to paying the tab, we were positively surprised, once more: Mustafa gave us a 33% discount. Home we went. Towards another evening without electricity.

Yoga Baba

February 21, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Karwansara guest house

Giovanni occasionally goes for Yoga. Tonight, I went with him. Mainly because he claimed that last time, it was only two men and some 20 women.
He overdid it a bit, with four guys and some 8 women, but I still felt like Mel Gibson in ‘What Women Want’. However, Julia, the ‘instructor’, easily was worth it; a petite Bulgarian girl with a sweet accent and so flexible, whole tribes of Chinese snakemen would feel ashamed.

Media

Although Julia made my day, today was actually a very sad day. Hunter S. Thompson killed himself. The bastard.
Thompson is the author of ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’, possibly the best novel ever, written on drugs. Not about drugs, but while ON drugs.
Thompson is also considered to be the inventor of ‘Gonzo journalism‘. Look it up. And this is a much bigger thing than you might think. Why? Because blogging almost always is a form of Gonzo journalism. In other words: Thompson was the proto-blogger and you’re not worthy.

Also, I can’t withhold the following Afghanistan-related picture galleries from you: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. They’ve been done by some Danes here at work, Jesper and Ole. Olee!

And I made it, once more, to a newspaper. This time, it was the ‘Delftse Post’. Not really an achievement, since the first time I made it to that paper was when I was 8, or so. Still, with a circulation of 90.000, it could be worse.

Hit me with your rhythm stick

February 19, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Some Shia mosque

Almost since the day I arrived, we've been kept awake by chanting from the loudspeakers of the shia mosques in town. The reason? It's the month of Moharam, and the 10th of Moharam is called Ashura, and the Shia community in Kabul was preparing itself for what was to come today. You've probably seen it once on television: people beating themselves, either on the head, breast or back, while in procession.

The Shia are a minority in Afghanistan, so it isn't considered good form to do such a procession in public. So what happens is that the procession is done in and on cars, while the beating is done in mosques.
We were supposed to be guided by one younger guy, also working in DACAAR, but he had some trouble getting organized. We grouped at 12 noon, but struggled to find out where and when we had to be. In the end, our guide already having left long before, we decided to just check out the local mosque. By then, it was already hitting nine in the evening.
We knew it was a Shia mosque and our day of waiting turned out to have brought us some luck. Not that we knew it at the time, but instinct prevailed and we joined the processions of cars, starting to make their very quiet round through Kabul.

After an hour or so of driving, we stopped at a reasonably sized mosque. By the time we got in, many younger men were already sitting around in a large circle, in the middle of the mosque. My first thought was to join them and sing Hash songs, but I refrained from doing so.
After a while, young kids coming round with tea and milk, several different 'leaders' started singing, sometimes with the whole group joining them, sometimes the group answering to their call. Most of the time, the guys were hitting themselves. Mostly on the chest, taking turns with both arms, hitting themselves with long sweeping motions. However, after a while, some also were invited into the middle of the circle to beat themselves on the back with some sort of gray sweeping broom.

Chests were bruised, as were backs. Some of the guys wore no shirts, but most wore a shirt with a low cut front and a large 'hole' on the back, allowing them to beat themselves right on the flesh.
Because the crowd was so young, the activity gave me the impression of an initiation rite.
Also, before the event, we were all a bit unsure about what to expect in terms of safety. Particularly, if you've ever seen or heard stories of this event in Iran, you'd understand our initial reluctance.
However, if anything, people were very friendly and the atmosphere was good, even positive. Taking pictures was no problem whatsoever and it seemed that half of the people in the mosque were spectators as ourselves, some as curious as we were.

With Ashura, the Shia remember the battle of Kerbala, where their imam Hussein and his tiny band of brothers was killed by a huge force of the opposing imam, the man who was recognized as being the rightful imam by what became the world's Sunni population.
It is this battle alone, and the discussion of who was the rightful imam that sets apart these two opposing factions within Islam. The differences are minute, but the internal strife is significant.

All in all, it was a long day of waiting. But we did get our reward. Only 25 years from now, the festival will finally be in the middle of summer. Now that should be slightly more pleasant. The sub-zero temperatures in the mosque were hardly enjoyable.

Flowers

When, last week, I was driven around by Khalid, on a short tour of the city, I noticed something interesting with the national stadium. No, no hands or carcasses were laying outside, but the walls of the stadium were adorned with the five Olympic rings. Twice. Interestingly, one of the two collections of rings, had its colors mirrored. Instead of blue-black-red-yellow-green, it was red-black-blue-green-yellow.

Also, I couldn't help but notice the many flower shops downtown. I asked Khelid were the flowers came from and he said from Pakistan. I was impressed that, given the cold, these flowers were still able to shine as beautifully as they did. An exotic and very colorful treat in this city.
Yesterday, when I was walking around town, checking out the stores in Chicken street and Flower street, I also walked past one of these flower stores. Turns out, the flowers are all fakes. Probably made in China…

sex drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, but without the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll

February 18, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Nader Shah’s tomb

It's already been a busy weekend. Yes, I know it's Friday, but in islamic countries, the Friday equals 'our' Sunday, so the weekend's now halfway done.

Yesterday night, with some 8 people, including two local guys from the office, we enjoyed sheesha and tea at the Iranian restaurant. The same we went to earlier this week.
After that, driving home with Giovanni and Lev, who lives close to us, Giovanni confessed that some Italian NGO was having a party tonight. We went. The drinks were free and the women were thin and dark, smoking thin long cigarettes from between well manicured long fingers.

Today, things started well with brunch at the Elbow Room. It's a bit pricey, at 11 dollars, but considering it's an all you can eat, all you can drink, it's not that bad. And their offerings are extensive, ranging from pancakes, through salads and juices to custom made omelettes.
Afterwards, for the first time, I spent time walking through the city. Quiet (it IS Friday) but nice. And it was also pleasant none of the street-kids-out-for-foreigners bothered me with their overpriced newspapers or magazines.
I visited several DVD stores, with shitloads of new and compiled DVDs at very reasonable prices. But what was more interesting was the bookstore of the actual Bookseller Of Kabul (from the book). Unfortunately, he wasn't there, but his sons were.

Afterwards, I walked over to the Park Palace hotel, where today's hash started. It was a much bigger crowd than last time, but although Giovanni did show up, Alexandra chose not to come.
We ran close to Nader Shah's tomb. Still nice from a distance, when close by you can see that the mausoleum is in a complete disarray. As on the previous hash, by the time we had come back to our starting point, some 50 locals were trailing us.

Around the tomb it was very busy. Mostly with young men flying kites. A very enjoyable sight.

Oh. My. God.

February 17, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » DACAAR expat house

Since we had city power till around 12 at night, I thought of trying out the shower today. We have a boiler, but it doesn't work when we're on the generator. With city power running till midnight, the water is still hot in the morning. The boiler is upstairs, but the shower is downstairs so after turning the shower on, I had to wait almost 10 minutes before nice warm water was trickling down from the shower head.

Yes, I actually had a shower this morning.

Not all is lost, or so it seems.

Yesterday evening, we had dinner at my boss her house. We were eight: Eddi, my boss. A woman, with, indeed, a rather interesting name. Alexandra, the Danish former tv-journalist, now DACAAR's public information officer. Lev, the Belgian database guru who started three weeks ago at DACAAR. Jesper, the Danish designer who's leaving for a holiday in south east Asia tomorrow, the bastard. Giovanni, the Italian GIS specialist. Lyn, programme manager at the Water and Sanitation Program (I think) and from Oz. Leendert, the Dutch boss of Giovanni.
This is about half of the expats at DACAAR. Why this half was selected by Eddi, I don't know. Five of us only recently started, but not Alexandra, Giovanni and Jesper.

We had lasagna and some apfelstrudel-like cake, with cream, for desert. Nice. It took a while for the group to losen up, but as the evening progressed, the group slowly did, and I was even able to make some jokes about child molestation. Now, that *must* mean it was a good dinner.

Two days ago, we had gone to an Iranian restaurant, in the hope of smoking sheesha and drinking tea. Within seconds after sitting down, sodas, water, salads and snacks were put on the table. We didn't seem to have a choice but to order dinner. We did, and, seconds after ordering, the dishes with really, really, really tender and tasteful meat were brought out. Afterwards, we did manage to enjoy a sheesha.
One good evening.

Getting to grips

February 14, 2005 • Blog

World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Flower street cafe

I’m slowly getting to grips with the situation here. So far, I’ve created a reasonably extensive list with a lot of IT related points of interest, DACAAR should consider changing. These range from installing anti-virus software on ALL PCs to moving to a true client/server environment.

On a different level, it’s a pity I’m having too much trouble understanding Dari and, therefore, using my Farsi. I now know what the problem is: The Afghanis just speak too fast, like to mumble and often contract words, making it very difficult to hear what actually is being said.

Yesterday, DACAAR, made a big decision that will cause some waves over the next couple of weeks. I was asked by the ever friendly Alexandra to take the information off, from my blog, because this major decision hasn’t been finalised yet. Later… more…
The reason? Before I forget: changing requirements from the DACAAR sponsors…

More sights

February 12, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Darulaman palace

In the morning, I wanted to go out and walk around town a bit, get my bearings. Unfortunately, it rained most of the morning, meaning I preferred sitting in my room, next to my bukhari, stove, reading some of the Afghan related books I brought with me.

Giovanni, who had actually gone to work on this day off, arrived back at the house at two and we decided to check out the Kabul museum.
A surprisingly intact building, specifically since it's located next to the completely bombed out former king's palace, is only open from 9 till 3. We arrived at three and decided to make a tour around the palace, in the still 30cm deep snow, despite the above zero temperatures of the past two days.

On the grounds of the king's palace, the Canadians have erected two OPs, Observation Posts. You're not allowed to take pictures of these, but you can take pictures of the palace. Soldiers from both posts made it clear, although they pretended to be friendly, but how can you really be if you're clutching an Uzi, that we were not allowed to take pictures of the OPs.

Afterwards, we visited two of the what seem to be three 'western' supermarkets. We visited Ciano and The Blue. Getting to The Blue is a challenge, you have to know where it is, since it's not signposted on the road. However, getting in is as easy as driving through the gate. At Ciano's, they did a quick inspection of the car but, so Giovanni told me, at the third supermarket, it takes up to five minutes to get into the compound.
All three supermarkets are located close to each other, but quite a distance from town. Typically, only foreigners shop there, also because you have to pay in either dollars or euros, just like in the expensive expat restaurants.

The supermarkets sell wine, beer, whisky, but also all sorts of soap, cheese, pasta and much much more and only the more expensive brands. Stuff you don't see in the small shops dotted all over town.
Prices for regular products are high, but alcohol is priced at regular western prices. Except for a 10 year old single malt I picked up, at only 13 euros.

Faces

Driving around town, I wonder what makes a typical Afghan face. So far, I've seen people who would fit in much better in Turkey, Mongolia, Pakistan or Iran but also in the Balkans, Russia or Saudi Arabia.
Yesterday, when, during our tour, we stopped at one of the shops in 'Chicken street', the owners turned out to have light colored eyes, a thin reddish beard and a very light skin. Still, they were totally Afghan.

Blast!

February 11, 2005 • Blog

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World » Afghanistan » Kabul » Hotel Intercontinental

The morning and half of the afternoon was spent driving around town with a set of visiting Danes. Khalid, a DACAAR employee, drove us around town and showed us the sites. Of these, there aren't many. The list of sites includes things like 'the simple stadium used during Taliban rule for public killings and mutilations', 'the bombed out palace of the former king', 'the university hostel' and endless rows of houses, bombed to bits, without electricity or water, but with inhabitants.
It's amazing to see where Kabul is coming from. The Soviets not only built an airport, they created a reasonable and functioning city and system, complete with trolley buses, plumbing, electricity and more.
Surprisingly, I haven't found a city center yet. This also hampers my ability to mentally understand the layout of the city since there doesn't appear to be a really good reference point.

Originally, the plan was to join some people from work in a visit to the hamam. However, due to my morning tour of the city running late, I couldn't make it. Not to worry, since the Hamam closes at two anyway. Exactly the time Alexandra, Martine and some other guy went over to visit the hamam. Of course, the Hamam is strictly separated.
During the tour, I asked Khalid if he new any good Hamams in town. He told me that the last time he went to one was years ago, and only for ten minutes or so. According to him, Kabul doesn't have any good hamams.

However, I did make it to this week's hash. And because Alexandra and Martine couldn't make it to the hamam, they did make it to the run. Also, Giovanni, my housemate, joined me.
The small crowd joined up at the hotel Intercontinental, the same one mentioned in 'The Bookseller of Kabul'. Of course, the ladies were late, the fun part being Alexandra showing up in a long dress, high heels and with hand bag, easily the best dressed hasher I've seen in a very long time. Kabul is currently covered in snow and with the temperature hovering around freezing, there's a lot of slush on the streets. This didn't bother the hare, meaning Alexandra had quite a challenge. Giovanni, Martine and I had a great time on the nearly 90 minute walk

The circle was raunchy, but also long and a bit too slow. Giovanni thought it a bit crazy, Martine couldn't stand it, but Alexandra appreciated the jokes.
Martine left half way but Giovanni and Alexandra might just be back next week.

Looking out over the city from the top of the hill on which the hotel Intercontinental is located, Kabul looks like a real city, with a decent city plan, all sorts of houses and offices and even some parks.
Down on the ground, driving or walking through the city's streets, nothing of this image remains.

Weather

It's still cold in Kabul, but the weather's improving. I still can see my breath in the house, but I no longer need to wear three sweaters to feel warm.

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