Area Fam

Area Fam is a cool military term for getting to know your surroundings. Its sort of like being hip and instead of saying I need some information - you say "I need the 411". That of course doesn't work in other cultures where dialing 411 on your phone may send an ambulance to your location. So in that country I say - "give me the 411" and it means I need urgent medical attention. Area Fam is short for Area Familiarization or getting out and learning your way around the streets. Something very important when security reasons could force an alternate route or the simple movement of the Afghani President closing just about every road in the city.

In my office we have a great Afghan American guy (I will leave him unnamed) who lived here in Kabul until he was about 16 years old (left just prior to the Russian invasion) and has been back here now for a year as a contractor helping the U.S. efforts in Afghanistan. Last Saturday he asked if I was interested in getting out and seeing the city (code named Area Fam) for a couple of hours. I jumped at the chance to leave my minimum security detention facility and at around 2:00PM we dashed.

The first stop was the top of a hill overlooking the city of Kabul. On the top of the hill is the tomb of former King ZAHIR Shah's father. King Zahir holds the honorific title of, "Father of the Country" however no longer holds any power. The tomb was ransacked during the Russian invasion and even the bones of the King's father were pilfered. The place is still a wreck but because of the large open area, it is a destination for many Kabulites seeking a place to fly their kites or otherwise enjoy the fall during their weekend.



Here I was actually allowed to get out of the car and take some pretty fantastic photos of the city lying below and of the tomb itself. If you looked only at the hilltop (despite the horrible state the tomb is in) the scene could be in any city park anywhere in the world. There were children playing, people riding bikes, ice cream carts luring anyone with enough money for a treat, picnics and couples. At that very moment it was very hard to comprehend that this country is currently still at war against the evil regime of the Taliban. It was at this point that a little boy of not more than 8 years old came up to me and said - "Sir, give me water please". He repeated this about 7 or 8 times. Normally we have at least a case, if not more, bottled water in the vehicle. The problem was earlier in the day I'd taken my predecessor to the airport and left the remaining partial case with the airport guards (unbelievable how valuable clean drinking water is). I opened up the back of the vehicle and realized I had not a single bottle of water. I told the young man I was sorry (he didn't understand) but I didn't have any water. I did happen to have a case of MREs (Miliary Rations or Meals Ready to Eat). I don't know if any of you have ever had an MRE but it is basically a brown plastic envelope of vacuum packed nourishment in varying flavors. I pulled one from the box to give to the little boy and before I knew it I had children climbing on my back and pulling at my arms to get the next MRE. Within 10 seconds the entire box of 12 was gone despite my companion asking them in Dari to relax and stop pushing. The case was gone and there were still at least 10 children with empty hands and probably emptier stomachs. It was truly gut wrenching and one of those times when you have to reflect on my own life and how absolutely lucky I was to grow up in my middle-class family never being hungry or thirsty. I also had to grasp the reality of not being able to help every single child in the city of Kabul on that particular day.



We mounted back up and took off to do a bit more exploring. We passed by the former palace which was home to the King and some other huge wigs (doesn't rhyme like Big Wigs but has a better meaning) which starting with the Russian Invasion and ending with the Coalition ousting of the Taliban has certainly scene better days. Just from its mere size you can tell what an unbelievable place it used to be and could haev easily fit into a Robin Leach lifestyles of the Rich and Famous or even MTV's "Cribs" - but not now. Guarded by one outpost of the Afghan National Army, no one seems to care. The trees which used to line the palace have been stripped away for their wood (anything burnable is used for heat in the winter) and now it lies in complete ruin.





We spent another hour or so just driving around the city's downtown area. Not what I would call a pretty sight but when you think that this capital is home to more than 4 Million people, there must be something positive about it. Since Saturday is part of the Afghani weekend, the locals use this day to spend the little money they have on shopping and other social activities. The streets are jammed with horse drawn carts pulling all kinds of wares and those that can't afford a horse, are pulling/pushing their wares. The Kabul river is dry until spring thaw and the lack of rain causes a dust haze that just smothers the city. I've had more odd colored nose substances here than I have anywhere else and I'm sure this doing wonders for my sinuses and lungs. Definitely not a destination for anyone with asthma or any other bronchial problems.



We returned to the Embassy unscathed and with me completely familiarized with the local area. Being here and getting out truly gives me an appreciation of what I have and what many of my fellow citizens of the United States take for granted. Its a moving experience and one that I continue to grow with each and every day. Stay tuned for the next installment entitled - "The Pit".

One week down and 51 to go

Who says time doesn't fly when you're having fun. Yesterday completed my first week in Kabul and I have to say if I'd blinked, I would have missed the entire 7 days. As many of you know the standard work week in Muslim countries is Sunday - Thursday. Most of my State brethren take full advantage of the "weekend" but unfortunately the Department of Defense is at war and we work 7 days a week. Wipe the tear from your eye because I will say that things are a bit relaxed on Friday but here I sit at my desk with a million other things I should be doing but wanting to give my hungry readers something to sink their minds into.

Afghanistan is a landlocked country a little smaller than Colorado. Because of its geographic location, it has served as a crossroads for traders and conquerors from all points on the compass, and its people reflect the diversity resulting from these major migrations and invasions. Afghanistan's recorded history begins about 2000 B.C. and traces of its history can still be seen in its ancient cities of Kabul, Kandahar, Mazar-I-Sharif, and Herat. Although the country has been ruled by many different invaders, including Darius, Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, and Tamerlane, the Afghan people remain staunchly independent and proud.



Afghanistan's recent history has been marked by war and civil unrest. The Soviet Union invaded in 1979, but was forced to withdraw 10 years later by Mujahidin forces supported by the U.S., Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and others. In 1992, when the Communist-sponsored regime in Kabul finally collapsed, fighting erupted between the various Mujahidin factions. Their struggle for territory and resources gave rise to a state of warlordism that eventually spawned the Taliban. With foreign backing, the Taliban seized power in 1996, controlling much of the country outside of Northern Alliance strongholds in the northeast. Following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, the U.S. and its allies, together with the Northern Alliance, drove out the Taliban. Since then, the country has been going through a transitional phase as it seeks to restore its institutions and infrastructure with the assistance of the international community.

Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan, has an estimated population of over 4 million. It is in the eastern section of the country, 140 miles from the Pakistan border, situated on a high barren plateau (some 6,300 feet above sea level) surrounded by rugged, treeless mountains.

Private homes and most of Kabul's buildings are in walled compounds. The city has several wide, paved boulevards and avenues as well as narrow, dirt streets. The slopes of the city's lower hills are dotted with small, one-story adobe houses. The old city center has narrow lanes with small kiosks, shops, or stalls behind the wide main streets; this is where most of the city's inhabitants usually shop. The Kabul River winds through the city, although it is very often dry.

Did I mention that a Afghani National Police Officer makes about $70.00 per month? A beard, an AK-47 and you too could be living in the lap of luxury.

Kabul's climate is dry and hot during much of the summer. The skies may be polluted in winter as many inhabitants burn whatever is available for heat. The four seasons are: winter (from December to the end of February); spring (March to mid-May); summer (mid-May to mid-September); and fall (from mid-September to December). Winter temperatures sometimes fall below 0 ºF, and during January and February snowfalls can be heavy. In summer, daytime temperatures sometimes reach above 90 ºF but fall rapidly after sunset. Kabul is in a low rainfall area, and almost all precipitation occurs between November and May. Humidity is extremely low and the remaining months are virtually dry. Strong afternoon winds, accompanied by dust storms, frequently occur during the summer months.

Severe earthquakes are relatively rare but tremors are frequent.

I just wanted to give some background information which was provided by the U.S. State Dept.'s Afghanistan "Post Report".

My week was busy as I previously mentioned and I'd really prefer it no other way. The fact that I came here alone means that I didn't have to worry about the normal things that go with a typical PCS move. No delivery of Household Effects, no registration for school, no delivery of a vehicle - you get the picture. What it basically means is that I hit the ground running and was at work 10 minutes after arriving on the compound. My days this week averaged from 10 - 13 hours and were hilighted by 2 trips to Bagram AFB (will be a separate blog), a meeting with the Kabul based International Military Attache Association on Camp Phoenix and capped by the farewell party for my predecessor last night and a couple of beers around the camp fire (commonly refered to as the "PIT") and then to bed. The PIT too will be a separate blog. I can't write about my boring days everytime as there is so much more interesting stuff going on over here.

All in all it has been an incredibly busy yet rewarding week and I have to say, I'm looking forward to the next one just as much. I should move into my apartment during the next week, I'll get some more area familiarization so I can start driving (can't wait for that) myself the places that I need to go. The city has no stop lights so the roundabouts are truly a free for all and since my armored Land Cruiser is bigger than most cars on the road - I win.

The hours are long and you truly have to be on edge all the time. I had a friend tell me yesterday that reassimilation into the normal life after my tour here may be difficult since the administriva that folks get so spun up about isn't nearly as important to those returning from a place like this. No one is not going to die if time sheets are a little late or that memo for the Ambassador is tardy. I'm sure you understand so I won't belabor the issue.

Have a great day and an even better weeekend - until next time. - Peace

The Hooch

Webster's Dictionary defines the word "Hooch" as: An illicitly distilled (and usually inferior) alcoholic liquor. Even though I prefer the Webster's way of looking at things, "Hooch" is also a slang term used during the Vietnam War to describe a small shelter. Albeit taking from both definitions here in Kabul - a rather inferior small shelter. This is where I live, at least for the time being. The Embassy in Kabul was evacuated during the onset of the Russian invasion of Afghanistan during late 1978 and even though our building stood strong for nearly 25 years, time took its toll. When the American diplomatic presence returned to Kabul following the September 11th bombings and subsequent invasion, the security situation required that all employees be housed on the Embassy compound giving birth to Kabul Hooch.

Having traveled extensively around the world I'd heard the term before and may have even seen a "hooch" or two during my years in South Korea. Nothing prepared me for what I would soon be calling home.

Arriving on the 19th of October and having my passport taken from me, I was escorted to the Embassy compound by my perdecessor and new boss. The Embassy is only about a 15 minute straight shot (pardon the pun) from Kabul International Airport but what a ride it was. Swerving and weaving in and out of traffic at whatever speed we wanted (just my kind of place), I arrived in one piece. By this time the puddle in my lap had dried, although the drive from the airport nearly created a new one. I was taken to the Housing Office and given a key to my Hooch and told that it was right next to the kennels (will not elaborate on that). I'm glad I had an escort since the entire compound (except for the actual Embassy builiding) is filled with these single story conex containers (all painted white) that have been modified into lodging facilities. My suitcases arrived from the airport and I made my way with them to my new (hopefully very temporary) home.



To the credit of "The Hooch", mine has all the creature comforts of home. When you walk inside the door immediately to your left is a sink with hot & cold running water, a mirror, a medicine cabinet and a conveniently placed water heater right under the sink. There is an old Army style locker which has a couple shelves and unfortunately does not have a long enough hanging space to accommodate all of the formal wear that I brought along (one U.S. Army Class "A" uniform). Next to the drab gray metal "closet" is a small fridge and even a microwave to heat up Vienna Sausages and my all time favorite micro treat - Hot Pockets. Next to the mini-fridge is a dresser with ample space for underwear (I brought 25 pair), socks and even t-shirts. Sat upon the dresser is the nicest 13 inch color television I'd ever laid my eyes upon, including a DVD player. Across from the dresser and TV is a small desk with two drawers and comes equipped with an IVG equipped telephone and an ethernet cable that provides "sort of" broadband internet access. At the end of "The Hooch" is the absolute best set of bunk beds I've slept on in the last 10 years. Not since the mighty USS Blue Ridge have I seen bunk beds of this quality. The only difference is on the Blue Ridge they're stacked 3 high and in my "hooch" there are only 2 beds to the bunk. The mattress is the same though, at a massive 2 1/2 inch thickness. I know because I measured it. You see before I left my office gave me this great Leatherman tool that has a ruler on one edge. I'd never in my life figured out what I could use that ruler for - until now. Sheets pulled tight, just like boot camp, I couldn't wait to climb in for some much needed rest. (It didn't end up happening for about 12 more hours). On the opposite end of the "hooch" is a step up bathroom complete with shower and toilet. All of this comfort squeezed into a trailer that you may see on the back of an 18-wheeler except that instead of having the whole trailer - two of these "Hooches" have been squeezed into that one trailer space. My Leatherman ruler doesn't measure that far but I'm guessing around 80 square feet that I have all to myself. I was told though that they couldn't promise me solidarity the entire stay and that I have to be ready to expect a roommate at anytime. I mean after all, there's an empty bed and of course plenty of room.


There are lots of great things about my hooch, like its ability to heat up to an amazing 100 degrees during the day and damn near (if not below) freezing at night. Keep in mind that Kabul is at about 6,000 feet above sea level so the temps can be very different when the sun goes down. There is a small air conditioning/heating unit on the wall above the top bunk that really doesn't do much but make a whole lot of noise. The shower stall is about 1 1/2 feet across in both directions so I literally have to get out and go back in to turn around. The water is supposed to stay hot for 8 minutes but I have the express version which means I have hot water for about 3 minutes. I used to do this when I was younger in the military so not a big deal except now I have no hair and a whole lot more skin to wash. I don't know how a woman could even think about washing their hair in this abbreviated attempt at personal hygene. Above the toilet is an extractor fan that has to stay on at all times or the mosquitos will invade in fligts larger than most modern air forces. I'm normally not too tasty to mosquitos but I think the Afghan version is looking for anything that tastes different than goat.

My days in the hooch are numbered though since once my predecessor departs, I will be moving into one of the numbered apartments which are located on the compound as well. That of course is a different post all together.

My free time in the office has run out and its time to go to bed in my hooch and start the day again tomorrow. Good Night.

How to read.

Hello and thanks for stopping by. As a military instructor I was taught to never start a class with an apology but unfortunately that's the way this is going to go. Being new to the world of "blogging" I thought for some reason that my additions would follow chronilogically below the previous so that you could read it as a continuous story - if you joined late. This is not the case here and all new additions are added on top of the previous post. With that said, I manipulated the dates of my first 3 posts so they in fact do run the way I want them to (top to bottom) but have decided that its way too much work to change the date of all previous posts each time I add a new post. So to confuse you further my initial 3 posts will remain top to bottom but then each new post will come on top - if that makes any sense at all. I'm sorry for the confusion and hope you continue to read. I plan to add something about every 3 or 4 days at the least, but who knows, if I'm bored I'll type. The problem right now is that I haven't been able to get my laptop in my "hooch" to connect so I have to do this on my office computer - during my free time of course. If anyone reading with more experience at this than I would like to join the team to be Editor-in-Chief, then please let me know (MATT MATT MATT) as I'm just not mentally capable. - Thanks.

The Beginning

As you may know, I am a Chief Warrant Officer in the United States Army recently promoted to grade Three. By trade I'm an Attache Technician which is a fancy title for Operations Coordinator or Ops Chief for Defense Attache Offices within the Defense Attache System. Our main objective in any given country is to establish and maintain close ties with the host-nation military and represent the Secretary of Defense to the host-government. Our offices our located within U.S. Embassies worldwide.

On the 19th of October 2006 I arrived and assumed my duties as the Operations Coordinator for the Defense Attache Office here at the American Embassy in Kabul, Afghanistan. It is a one-year hardship unaccompanied tour. My family have stayed in Maryland since we own our home and we did not want to interrupt my daughter's schooling more than absolutely necessary (I miss them terribly).

I will leave this initial post at that and start with the day-to-day type stuff tomorrow.

Dubai

I departed London on the 18th of October and after a change of planes in Frankurt arrived at the "Gateway to the Middle East" following a journey of about 14 hours. The plane touched down in Dubai, United Arab Emirates at about 10:30 PM local time. My onward flight for Kabul did not depart until the following morning so my dear friend Yuri got a great deal on a room for me at the Hyatt Regency Dubai for about $100 less than the government per diem. The room was still almost $200 for the night, but less than per diem, which is the key here.
My only experience in the Middle East was a week in Cairo, Egypt about two years ago. Now if you ask anyone from the Middle East, they will tell you that Cairo is not the Middle East its North Africa but Egyptians consider themselves to be Middle Eastern. Another story completely but I thought I'd mention it. I arrive in Dubai and already the heat is almost overwhelming - and this is at 10:30 at night. I process through immigration and on to collect my two suitcases and then to customs. There is a great story here but I'll leave it to tell over a beer since only those that have ever attended the Joint Military Attache School (where I was most recently an instructor) will understand (and possibly my father-in-law). Right outside of customs there is a wall on the far side of the arrivals hall with little kiosks set up with every single 5-star hotel in Dubai above them. I immediately proceded to the Hyatt kiosk and asked the young lady how I can get to the Hyatt Regency. She tells me that I'll have to wait about an hour for the Hyatt driver or take a local cab. Dubai, being pretty close to first world and my lack of sleep encourages me to take a local cab. As she walks me out of the arrival hall to the taxi rank we leave the airport and I'm hit square in the face with the heat and then with misting water that is launched from what looks like spray guns attached to fans that form a 250% humitdy rate - if that's possible.
I get into a nice Toyota Camry with Abdul the carpet man who asks me every question under the book - Where are you from my friend? Have you ever been to the Middle East my friend? Do you want to buy some gold my friend? (next visit Emma I promise) How about a carpet my friend? On and on this goes for the entire 12KM taxi ride that takes about 40 minutes. Did I mention that its Ramadan? If you don't know what Ramadan is, please "google" it since it would take too long to explain here. I continually tell Abdul that I'm off to Kabul and have a very limited amout of time in Dubai. "Oh sir" he says - "the markets are open all night". Again a polite La Shokran (no thank you) and after much pressure, I arrive at the Hyatt.
To say this place is stunning would seriously be an understatement. The hotel is beautiful and everyone is so helpful and friendly. I'm escorted to my room, following check-in, by the duty manager (nice touch Yuri) and she explains how happy they are to have someone as important as me staying at their hotel (Yuri has come through again) and I tell her - no problem it was the least I could do before heading to the tropical paradise of Kabul. I ask her the dumb American question and say - "is it possible to get a beer in the hotel even though its Ramadan?" She says not in the lobby bar but there is a club near the ice skating rink (a skating rink in the hoetl - is that cool or what) that will gladly serve me a beer. She drops me off, shows me how to hook-up my laptop and leaves me in peace.
I drop my bags, call Emma and head for the beer. Not only does the Premier Club have beer, they have "Sol" one of my favorite Mexican additions to the world's beer market. So I proceed to have 4 or 5 - who knows after the day I had, and then go back to my room. By this time its about 1:30 and I decide that if I go to sleep, I may not get up since my wake-up call is for 4:00. I order a $12.00 club sandwhich and drink every packet of instant coffee I can find. I watch a little football and eat my sandwhich and jump in the shower. I repack my toilitries (god forbid I have shampoo on a plane) and head for check-out. A different Abdul takes me to the terminal for my 7:00 AM flight to Kabul but still insists on selling me a carpet. I'm wise to the ways of a Middle Eastern Shark (if you remember my Egyptian Pyramids story) so make it to the airport with my wallet in tact.
The aiport is pure chaos and I couldn't even find where I'm supposed to be. I don't have a ticket since it was purchased for me by the Embassy in Kabul and I'm only supposed to "show up" and show my passport to be given my "ride" to Kabul. The journey is booked on Kam Air - I'm sure you've never heard of it but it flies from Kabul to lovely places like Almaty, Kazahkistan. I finally found where I was supposed to be and was told by the Kam Air rep that my bags were overweight and I had to pay. I said "not a problem" and asked how much. She said that I had to go to a different desk - pay the 180 Diram fee and the clerk would then give me my boarding pass. The other desk had at least 20 Arab gentlemen waiting (which is a very mild way of saying pushing each other to get to the front) in line to do, I assume, the same thing I needed to do. Then came the 5:00 AM call to prayer which I thought for sure would leave me in-line alone, possibly with no cashier, but at least at the front of the line, but no luck to be had in Dubai. I was told later than there's a prayer wavier for travelers. I pushed with these rather foul smelling gents for the better part of an hour and finally made it to the front to pay my money, receive my boarding card and be on my way.
Terminal 2 at Dubai International is nothing more than a staging area for flights to Kabul and Baghdad. No Soldiers heading out but tons and tons of contractors that are used to support the U.S. efforts in both locations. These guys are some real mercenaries and believe it or not - I saw Willie Nelson heading to Baghdad and he was being closely followed by Eddie Rabbitt. I thought it was the USO Soldier show. Anyways - I digress. Once I passed through my 3rd or 4th security check-point I was allowed into the gate area. I was warned earlier that despite having a seat number most travelers treated the first empty seat as their own since most can't read. I'm not joking on that part. The flight attendant has to literally read nearly every boarding card and direct the traveler to his seat. I say "his" since 80% of those heading this way were male and the plane sat about 200. I was seated in seat 7B. When I saw my boarding card I of course thought that I was going to be squished between two of the aforementioned stinky locals but was pleasantly surprised to park myself between a Filipina heading to Kabul to work in a restaurant and a South African gun-for-hire.

To be continued.....

The Arrival

My watch read just after 7:00 AM and we were on our way, even though the condensation from the plane's a/c dripping from above made a puddle on my pants right where you don't really want a puddle. We headed for the runway and within 10 minutes were airborne on our way to Kabul with a flying time of 2 1/2 hours. Of course as soon as the plane went "nose up" the condensation from all 7 rows forward found the easiest way out which increased the size of my puddle to that of someone who was really really scared to fly. Once we evened out the water subsided a bit but the helpful flight attendant brought out a roll of clear 2 inch tape and decided to do some patch work above my puddle. I sure hoped this wasn't their fix-all for the engine as well or any other vital organ on the airplane.

I tried to close my eyes a couple times but was awoken after each attempt by the pools of water finding its way around the patch work. Once on my bald head, once on my nose (you get the idea). I wish the water had landed on some of my traveling companions since it had been weeks since their last attempt at a shower. Time for the meal and drinks cart. I had been warned before not to eat the meal and make sure and have something before flying so I was now very grateful for my $12.00 club sandwhich that I had back at the Hyatt. As we left Iranian airspace and entered Afghani the pilot came over the intercom and welcomed us to Afghanistan. He did it in Arabic and then the flight attendant translated into Pashtu (local lingo) and English. For some reason I didn't feel incredibly welcome but I reclosed my eyes and thought happy thoughts.

When we were told to put our seats up and tray tables away, I knew we were close. Due to the capability of small arms (or bigger arms) being able to "take out" the Boeing 737, the approach to Kabul International is one of the steepest I'd ever experienced. Emma my dear, you would have been beyond queasy on this one. We weren't pointed straight down but darn close to it with a last minute pull-up to make sure the front wheel didn't hit first. Ten point landing in my book - especially under these harsh conditions. The overhead sights of Kabul, as well as those on the ground, are not too hard to describe. Mud huts abound and more dust and dirt than you can imagine. The mountains coming in were incredible and the largest were even covered in snow, but the city was drab and lacked anything that I would consider pretty. I saw one cool looking building that from the air looked like a wagon wheel with each spoke being a separate inner building with courtyards between all the spokes and a round courtyard in the middle. This was later identified to me as the largest prison in Afghanistan. Not so cool afterall.

Once we were on the ground and allowed to move someone opened the overhead bin above me where my computer bag had been for the last 3 hours. The smell that escaped from this bin is honestly indescribable. Think of 100 baby diapers (soiled of course), horse poo, dog poo, cat poo and duck poo, rolled into an enchilada with a big hunk of cheese and left out in the sun for 3 days. My computer bag still smells of yuck and to think, me with no frebreeze. The plane did not pull up to the airport but was left about 100 yards from the terminal. At the bottom of the stairs was a man holding a piece of paper that had the American Flag on it and in black letters it said "American Embassy". I gave him a "thank-you god" (or allah) sort of look and showed him my passport. He checked my name off his list and said give me your passport and two dollars. I was very hesitant to turn my passport over and what did he want two dollars for. The other Embassy guy explained that this gentleman was an expediter and would use the money to tip the guys that were getting my luggage off the plane since they do not work for salary. Can you imagine an international airport with no paid baggage handlers? Here's my money and I sure hope to get my passport back.

I was escorted to the VIP area - a gravel lot on the other side of a fence - where I was greeted by my predecessor and my new boss. We loaded the heavily armored Humvee and proceeded to the Embassy through the roughest airport road I'd ever been on and passed some of the most depressing squalor I'd ever seen. People everywhere and nothing but poverty. My first question of course was what did it look like before we started helping them?

That's it for now - more episodes to follow.