Bazaar Behavior

Day after day, people here are doing the same things. Working in the same offices, eating in the same dining facility, talking to the same people and exercising in the same gym. Almost every Friday though, we
have a bazaar similar to a flea market where people can go shopping. Many of them are looking for a little bit of retail therapy to get them through the next week or two.

There are many things to see if you're in the mood, but the novelty wore off rather quickly for me. Carpets and jewelry are the most popular items, but scarves, knives, sunglasses, pottery, carvings and all sorts of knick knacks and souvenirs are available.

It can be intimidating the first few times that you go. The salemen are very aggressive, and behave differently than we're used to in the United States. There is security around the bazaar and walking around, so there's no real threat, but it is different.

They'll reach out, as if to shake your hand, but then they'll hold onto it and guide you over to their table. They'll say things like "My friend, You are my first business today. I will give you a very good deal."

It's a challenge to just enjoy looking for things because so many of them are aggressive.

If you do see something you like, you can bet that you can probably get it for half of whatever they say. If this trinket is $100, a bit of negotiating will often have you walking away with it for $50. (And odds are that they really only paid $20 for it...)

Some are not above lying to you to make a buck... I saw an old fashioned sextant a few weeks ago. I'd been reading some sailing magazines, so I thought that was interesting. The man told me it was an original from the 1800s... yet 10 stalls down I saw another one just like it. "Is it real?" I asked... "No, just a very good copy!"

A few treasures are found on occasion. A viewing periscope from a soviet tank. Antique muzzleloading firearms. Jewelry, lapiz, and handmade carpets. All interesting to look at, but not quite interesting enough for me to buy them.

I've found it best to stride through with a sense of purpose. looking at what I wish, and being direct with them. "I'm just looking. I don't have any money with me" seems to do the trick usually.

A female friend of mine just came to Afghanistan a few weeks ago and attended the bazaar by herself today. It was a mind-blowing experience for her. I asked her what she got at the bazaar, and she told me "A scarf, a necklace, a bracelet, and three marriage proposals."

Everywhere she went, they gave her gifts, stroked her arm and shoulder, and asked her if she was married... or wanted to be married. She came out of there feeling like a cow that they were looking to purchase!

Bizarre as the bazaar can be, no one's ever offered to marry me...

Confession is Good for the Soul

I'm Guilty.

I didn't mean to do it.

I know it's against the rules. They warned me about her and her friends when I first arrived.

But she kept after me. Calling out to me when I walked by.

Rubbing against my leg when I was just standing there minding my own business.

Then one day, as I was sitting on a bench, she cuddled up next to me, and my resolve cracked.

I touched her, and she purred.

Though I felt bad about breaking the rules, I continued to stroke her for a few minutes before coming to my senses. I abruptly got up and walked away...

We have at least a dozen cats on the base. One of the base physicians said that we shouldn't touch them, and that they might carry fleas or have other diseases.

Most of them have been "fixed" and are allowed to stay on the compound to keep the rodent population at bay.They often "dock" the ear of the animals that have been spayed or neutered so they know which ones have been done.

Some folks pretend to ignore them, but pet them when they think no one's looking... Others make no pretense at all about it, they allow the cats to lounge around in their work areas...

One day, a friend of mine looked a little upset. I asked him what was the problem... He said the post office had a package for him, but the mailman wouldn't give to him yet. Turns out that a cat was sleeping on the box and the mailman didn't want to wake it!

This one was following people around, looking for a little attention or food.

This guy was just sitting around surveying the area. They all tend to keep to their own little territories. They'll climb over, under and around buildings and fences as they make their rounds.

For a little food and attention, we've got a small army of pets to give people a feeling of home and love...

Our unofficial pets bring peace to our hearts, and dead mice to the door.

Just like at home.

Let's Give Them Something to Talk About...

What to say, what to say...

The wonders of modern technology allow many of us the opportunity to communicate with family, friends, and business associates all across the globe. Though we still can send letters, notes and cards by mail, waiting weeks for a reply, we're usually using electrons to transmit our messages through radio waves, computers, fiber optic cables and maybe even a few satellites.

Instant Gratification: I want it all, I want it now.

In the middle of a city where donkey carts intermingle with traffic, goats eat trash at the side of the road and children beg for money in the streets, I can still make a cell phone call all the way back to the United States.

From our base, and most bases in the area, I can get on the internet and use e-mail, Twitter, Facebook and other programs to interact and build relationships with people.

Most of the time, I enjoy the ability to be connected to my family and friends. At the end of a long and tiring day though, it's not always easy to enjoy listening to your son whine about how Mommy won't let him run through a sprinkler... It's also not easy to understand another son who has decided that being able to talk without opening his mouth would be a useful skill to develop.

I appreciate being able to talk to my sweet wife, if only for a few minutes before the next crisis of the day erupts. For those few minutes, after school, before soccer or piano lessons, we are able to actually talk about what's going on, how we're feeling, and what we're planning to do.

She's not worried about what to fix me for dinner, I've already eaten. I'm not worried about taking out the trash, fueling the cars, or mowing the lawn, she's got it all under control.

We just have time to talk. Dreams, summer plans and ideas are all fair game. Friends and family visits will fill much of our "free time" this summer after I return.

I notice that absence does make the heart grow fonder. When I'm at home, in the middle of the daily ruckus, it's sometimes difficult to appreciate all of the moments and events.

When I miss all of that... Well, I miss all of that.

Surprisingly, It Wasn't Good!

"An Army moves on it's stomach" is often heard when discussing logistics in the military. Napolean learned that lesson the hard way, when his invasion of Russia failed miserably, in large part due to his inability to feed his troops.

These days, soldiers don't usually live "off of the land." We bring in airplanes, trucks and ships full of food, water and all other sorts of supplies to sustain us during our mission.

We might have MREs (Meals, Ready to Eat) if we're traveling, but at established bases, we have a Dining Facility, or DFAC. The quality of the food varies from place to place, but military members are very adaptable. We can complain no matter how good or bad the food is...

A contractor prepares the meals at our base. In this case, many of the supplies are ordered through Europe, so just like in the classic song "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need!"

Some meals actually taste pretty good, even if they don't look it. The Beef, Fried Potatoes and Creamed Spinach that I had one night is a good example of this. I couldn't believe how bad it looked, so I had to record it for posterity.

Other entrees are just... Different.

Like the Fish Spaghetti they served one night... My buddy tried it, and when asked how it was, he simply replied, "Surprisingly, it wasn't good!"

This experience has given a whole new meaning to the phrase "It's to die for..." One day I had a great meal at another base a few miles down the road. BBQ ribs were on the menu, and they were cooked just right... We made our drive back through local traffic that day without incident, but the following day some misguided moron detonated himself in a vehicle bomb just outside that base... So I have to think to myself, is it worth the risk to go get that rib dinner? (For the record, no!)

I've had the opportunity to try and even enjoy many things that I wouldn't even think about eating at home... Even though I know it's just Chicken and Leeks (Like Scallions), I refuse to eat this soup. Though it may be common in England, the name of this soup sounds as if you have a personal problem that may require some medical attention...

Enjoy your meal!

The Walls That We Build

Every military base or fortification, since practically the beginning of time, has had walls.

Strong walls, tall walls. Walls to keep the bad guys out, or even walls to keep the bad guys in...

Everywhere you go, you'll see walls made of concrete and steel. Many buildings are fortified by surrounding them with special containers that hold tons of sand, gravel, rock or concrete.

"HESCO Bastion Concertainer® is a prefabricated, multi-cellular defense system, made of galvanised steel Weldmesh and lined with non-woven polypropylene..."

They're not attractive, but they are effective at defending against explosives, rockets, bullets, etc.

Recently I've noticed the walls a little more. I've noticed how they are there to protect us, but they also isolate us. We're here to help this country, but we must put ourselves at risk everytime we go out to meet with anyone.

It's a similar situation when people are hurting. They often want to stay inside their own "walls" for protection, yet will only find healing when they step outside, or let someone else step inside.

By the same token, we need to step out of our safety zone in order to help others. Everyone has stress and issues to deal with, and the deployed environment can add to those challenges. Many people keep "a stiff upper lip" and drive on with their mission, but it's almost always good to relieve stress before it builds up too high.

If you know that someone is hurting, ask them about it. Often, just talking about the situation can vent the frustrations and enable the person to feel better and move on... We're all brothers and sisters anyway, so help those around you when you can.

When you help someone else feel good, odds are that you'll feel good too!

A Harmonic Experience

We sometimes walk down the street about half a mile to another base. It's a pretty secure area overall, but locals can walk in, shop at the little stores, etc.

If you go for a walk down the street near our base, you'll be approached by boys. One or two might take your hand or hang on your arm and walk with you down the street while asking for money or candy. If you start to give something to one, the others will swarm around you, like sharks in a feeding frenzy.

Some of them try to sell bracelets or other trinkets. Most speak at least a little English.

"My friend, my friend, buy a bracelet!"

If you want to buy something from one, they'll appeal to your sense of fairness:

"Buy one from him, one from me!"

One day a group of us were walking, and we saw a group of half a dozen boys approaching. When they approach, they stride with a purpose, fan out to approach each person, and start their sales pitch.

I said "I'll draw them off..." and reached into my pocket for my secret weapon....

I pulled out my trusty harmonica and started playing "Oh Susanna!" The boys were surprised and immediately gathered around me to see what I was doing... They smiled and laughed as I showed them how I could play it... One boy wanted to try it...

A harmonica is a very personal instrument... You literally breathe through it to create the music, so I was honestly a little reluctant to let some 9 year old street kid put his lips on MY harp... But I got over myself, wiped it off on my pants leg, and let him try it. He tentatively gave it a little blow and when he heard the sound he smiled one of the biggest and brightest smiles I'd ever seen.

They boys all asked if I could get them each one, and I promised that I would, but that it would take a few weeks. Then I had to hurry down the street to catch up to my group. I'd drawn off the boys, so my "friends" kept on cruising unencumbered!

I ordered over a dozen harmonicas and waited patiently for their arrival. Eventually they came and I was able to distribute them over the course of a few days to all of the original boys plus a few of their brothers and friends.

A little gift goes a long way here... Weeks later, a few nights ago, I went walking to visit a friend at another compound. I saw the original boy who had smiled so broadly, and he wanted to give my friend and I each a bracelet as a gift...

I asked if he still had his harmonica, and he told me that a security guard had taken it... He looked like he was recovering from a black eye as well. It's a rough world these kids are living in, but I'm hoping at least this one kid will remember a gift of music.

I've got his replacement harp right here...

Miss Me?

I've been living in Afghanistan for several months now. Seen many people come and go, and I'm starting to feel each departure a little more deeply.

At first, I was excited to see someone complete their tour and return home. It seemed like such an accomplishment for them, and they all seemed so excited to be reunited with family and friends.

Now I'm not so sure. Each person's departure means more work for me! Work arranging their flights, work writing evaulations, work training their replacements, work sweet-talking the NATO folks.

Not only that, I've now spent months with these people so each departure feels like I'm losing a friend! We still have pictures on the wall of people who left just a month ago, yet it seems like ancient history. They're back in their regular job, back in their regular home, and doing their regular thing.

This deployment has been somewhat of an adventure in many ways. Yes, I'm carrying a weapon almost everywhere. Yes, I've driven an armored truck through town and local traffic. Yes, I've heard gunshots and explosions in the distance...

I've met young boys on the streets, and bought their trinkets, and given them small gifts. I've sat cross legged on the floor of a carpet seller's shop eating lamb and rice. We've talked about the oppression of the Taliban, and the changes over the years from the Russians to the Taliban to NATO.

I share these adventures with my coworkers. Each day, something happens... We roll our eyes and say "You can't make this stuff up!"

These events help us to bond, but then the bonds are broken as we return home. And it hurts a little... Over time it gets to be tiresome. This week, the lady I flew in with will hop on a plane and return home from her deployment.

I'll be here a few more months. The main people I work with will all redeploy before me, so I'll have the distinct pleasure of helping train my new boss, coworkers, and my replacement.

I intend to write something each day for the next thirty days to record and share some on my deployment experiences. I hope that you can enjoy and relate to my experiences.