Farewell Friends

Well it's been awhile, partly due to leave, but also due to all the changes.  With the RIPTOA (turnover) there's a whole new cast of characters, and I've had to say goodbye to all the old ones.

As somebody who is pretty accustomed to living in communities where 1/3 to 1/2 depart every summer this isn't new territory, but it is still tiring, and intriguing to see the different approach that the military put on it.

Ceremonially, they are much more thorough than us civilians, officially marking the handoff from one unit to another with something called a (you guessed it) RIPTOA.  There are short speeches, music, and a bunch of people standing in formation - and then banner of the unit "on the ground" is furled by the commander and Command Seargeant Major (CSM) - next the banner of the incoming unit is trotted out and unfurled and its done. Similarly, there are farewell meetings to present certificates of appreciation and other gifts and honors, like the battalion coin and so forth.

RIPTOA - Goodbye TF Maverick, Howdy TF Defender

Socially, it felt a bit more awkward than the "hail and farewell" events that are a staple of Embassy life, where the departing families are sent off and the new ones welcomed. Mostly this is a logistical issue, because with the number and uncertainties of movement it can be a month or more to actually get somebody out of theater. As a result of that combined with my own erratic travel, I ended up saying farewell to some people a dozen times, and others got whisked out prior to the RIPTOA without a word.

Of course I made sure to say proper farewells to my closest team members, and enjoy a final chat with the Professor, CPT Esquire, and of course Papa Duck. We had a small ceremony (2 actually), the exchange of personal emails, and chatted over drinks (caffeinated). I got a few final tactical survival tips (hide behind the engine not the door of a car in a firefight) - thanked them for making me at least an honorary member of their "band of brothers" - and wished them safe travels.

Now I'm breaking in the new team, trying to come up with clever nicknames, and finding myself both thrilled and distressed that I have less than 90 days before I follow in their footsteps.  The new team seems great, though things are still shaking out in terms of who is where doing what, but I've gotten accustomed to the dizzying pace of change here, and am very encouraged by the fact that one of my new mates has already been christened with a nickname by the afghans, and I'm encouraged about the future of Afghanistan that the soldiers think highly enough of her spiking abilities on the volleyball court to name her in honor of a favorite weapon - "RPG".

BAF Bound

For better or worse, and mostly it's worse, I've spent entirely too much time on BAF, coming or going from various conferences, consultations, and ceremonies.

To be fair, BAF it is not without charms, like the 24 hour movie theater that has excellent popcorn, and even got in a shipment of Girl Scout cookies this week. I also don't object to the Pizza Hut (though it's a tad pricey) or to the (free) sausage egg mcmuffin, which is a far better way to start the day than rice and kimchi.

Mostly, it's the congestion and dust that bother me, so I set out in search of the scenic side of BAF (and some exercise, since I just can't bring myself to workout with people who count there pushups and pullups in triple digits...).

Here's what I found: 

BAF Panorama

This is my favorite picture because it has just about everything that defines BAF for me, dust, helicopters, T walls (the big concrete barriers), constant construction work, the soviet legacy (mines), and the stunning backdrop of the snowcapped mountains.

This is part of the infamous burn pits on Bagram

BAF Scenery

The Neighbors

Old School Bunkers (possibly from Soviet era)

reminded me a bit of Normandy

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Spring is a really beautiful season here, warm days, cool nights, snowcaps in the distance.

Accordingly - we decided to go for a stroll around the neighborhood.  Luckily, my work provided the excuse, which was a visit to a USAID funded teacher training center, which just happens to be on the property adjacent to our compound.

It was great to see money going to a solid project that is coming together literally on my doorstep, with no meaningful guidance or involvement from me - as our Afghan contractors are doing a great job, and are overseen by Afghan employees at the Embassy, who check in on it without the need for MRAPs and body armor and all that jazz.

Of course, it can be fun to take field trips, despite the excessive chaperoning by a dozen odd armed guards, but that's the next post.

Our Front Gate

(note the new trees added on Arbor Day)

View From the Neighbors

Our Street/Donkey Path

View From Above

 

 

Fighting!!! (no not that kind)

My faithful readers may recall my description of a Korean practice that I first found odd, but (in the way of cultural adaptation) I now find unique and endearing.

Some Practice Fighting in the Backyard

"Fighting" is a chant that apparently wormed its way into korean culture due to the popularity of boxing - aka fighting.  It crops up in different settings, the first of being a kind of pre-game and post-game huddle. It works like a football team, you form a circle, everybody puts their hand into the middle but instead of saying  "1, 2, 3  Go Team!!!" you chant "han, dool, set Fighting!" - though it sometimes sounds more like "Oy Tay!" to a western ear.  The other difference is that you might "huddle" before (and after) an aerobics class, a trip, or other group activity. It's a nice cultural bridge since most of us at least know to put your hand in the circle and shout as you raise it.
The other usage is during picture taking. After taking a more somber picture, the Koreans from the rotation" had been in the habit of taking a "Fighting" picture. Like with our "say cheese" ritual, the photographer counts to three and then the crowd shouts "Fighting".  The twist is that you hold out your clenched right fist for emphasis.

Parwan Youth Soccer Team

(who recently beat their hosts in a rematch)

While I don't want to take full credit, I beleive that my colleagues may have felt that the tradition was not in keeping with their rather serious demeanor, and it declined sharply. However, after I seized an opportunity to request a "Fighting!" picture with the Director, and successfully planted the idea during a few more photoshoots by brandishing a fist and/or shouting "Fighting!" the tradition has sprung back to life, embraced by the Police cadets, students and frequent guests, who have also been won over by the fact that if you do it in isolation, you feel like, and basically are, a goof.  However, if everybody buys into the idea, you get great smiles and an spontaneous injection of team spirit.

In fact, the Afghan security forces have their own charming and sobering tradition in the same line. As they are accepting a diploma or recognition they shake the hand of the commanding officer and turn their head to shout "Alive" - they then face the assembled crowd, raise the certificate above their head and belt out something patriotic. They have poetic license, but most settle on "My Life for Afghanistan". While I hope that few or none of these young men will have to lay down their lives, I can't help but be encouraged by thier willingness to do so.

Afghan Police Graduates - Ready to Fight

"Fighting!" season, here we come.

Birthday Celebration - Afghanistan Style

Holidays and Birthdays are not generally much fun to celebrate far from home and away from family.

With the obligatory (and sincere) caveat that I would have preferred to celebrate with loved ones, I happened across a pretty awesome way to celebrate.

My Birthday "Candle"

 

 A Classic Party Favor - ye olde Flash Bang

(this flavor of grenade doesn't have shrapnel, but the flash and bang will stun you, and give the good guys a chance to swoop in, particularly if you are indoors)

Another Favorite - Playdoh

(of course my grumpy guy here is not made with your average modeling clay)

The Obligatory Game of Hide and Go Seek

(turns out camoflague really works...)

Definitely a Birthday Party to Remember (but maybe not repeat)

I'd say more, but would just ruin it. So I'll just say a big thanks to my party organizers and guests for an unforgettable day!!!

Duck Season, Happy New Year

One of the nicest things about the gift of living in another culture is the chance to see how much we are alike, despite the very human tendency to fixate on the differences that set us apart.

Such was the discussion I had in the back of an MRAP (the rolling bank vault we use like the family station wagon) as I made my way to work one day.  Turns out that the soldier I was riding with was a duck hunter back home, and he explained to me how duck season work in Afghanistan.

It turns out to be strikingly similar, with some variation like the concept of needing governmental permission to shoot an animal which would definitely be lost in translation, or perhaps they would simply consider that to be covered under the Afghan statute which allows any adult to own (and carry in public) a single assault rifle to be used for self-defense. Lesser weapons are probably treated like bb guns in the U.S., and can be found at the Afghan equivalent of Walmart (though there isn't really any equivalent).

Open Season!!!
(just kidding)

Anyhow, the technique is the same.  You make a duck blind (hiding spot), try to lure the ducks with decoys or calls, and then blast away.  While I have to question the wisdom of firing any weapon in the neighborhood of a military installation (and a good portion of Afghanistan could be considered to meet that criteria), my new friend was clearly impressed. They had apparently gotten a good look at some of the decoys, which he noted were not what you'd get from a Cabella's catalog, but were pretty impressive for being made out of sticks and garbage bags. Indeed, we passed a flock of decoys on our trip which were plenty good enough to fool me (not a duck hunter). High-quality decoys or not, he was certain the Afghans went home with far more game than the average Cabella's customer.

Sometimes The Ducks Shoot Back... (note holes on drivers door)

(actually an Afghan April Fools Day joke, it's a sticker)

Along with duck season comes New Years (March 20) - which seems a far better time to make a fresh start than the dead of winter.  It is celebrated by going outside for picnics as a family enjoying fresh fruit and green things with the idea tha everything is reborn fresh and new. Unfortunately, I have not had the chance either to duck hunt or to go to a New Years picnic, but I have enjoyed the changing season.  Of course a dust/ice storm blew through during the holiday break, in the Afghan equivalent of the thunderstorm that seems to kick up right before you start the grill on the 4th of July.

 
Regardless, spring is marching forward, and the demoralizing events of the past weeks are slowly fading away, though the spectre of fighting season looms on the horizon, and the insurgents included us in their celebrations by rocketing BAF.

The Soviet Method of Duck Hunting

(a HIND helicopter - think Rambo III)

It will be an important and difficult year for Afghanistan when its citizens and leaders will need to make hard decisions and take on heavy burdens. Despite the frustrations and setbacks, this is a country that often eludes my comprehension by commands my respect, and I'm honored to play a small part in their struggle to find peace.

A Sense of Urgency... Or Not

As spring arrives, troops prepare for a rotation, and the withdrawal of coalition forces (CF) draws ever closer, I am sensing an odd mix of urgency and lethargy.

On the one hand there is the urge to rack up tangible accomplishments before hanging up ones boots, on the other is the contrary instinct to fade quietly into the sunset and not tempt fate. In the middle of this mess is the change of season, and the expectation that "fighting season" will soon get started. Taliban don't like fighting in the snow any more than we do and like taking their holiday in warmer climates just the same as us.

Ski Season is Just About Over...

 

Anyhow, I'm trying to just muddle along as best I can without fully embracing the (very American) fallacy that if we just work harder and longer Afghanistan will be reshaped in the next 2-4 weeks, nor the fatalism that often starts with the phrase "it is what it is" and ends with excusing oneself from trying at all.

In that vein, I had a chance for a nice stroll in downtown Charikar this week (going to a KLE not to stop at the corner grocery). I wish I had more of an opportunity to take pictures, as it was charming, colorful, and (at times) friendly.  The highlight was a series of three boys, who were probably 6, 4 and 3 years old, standing by the road (in that order) giving high-fives to the soldiers walking by. Older children enjoyed using the smattering of english they have picked up.

I Stuck by the Medic, Just in Case...

Others were more reserved, but didn't hesitate to return the greeting of a hand on the heart and a brief nod which has become instinctual enough that I catch myself doing it with non-Afghan colleagues. Mostly, our group seemed to get about as much attention as a flashy car driving down the street; enough to catch your attention and merit a comment to your neighbor, but not enough to interrupt business or a conversation with your friend. 

The Ironies of Afghanistan, A Soviet DSHK Machine Gun on a US Humvee

While our guard was certainly up, the guns generally were not, and the only real adrenaline rush came when CPT Esquire showed his soldiering skills by spotting an incoming motorbike with a gun-totting passenger and alerting our group to this event. Luckily, the weapon was not the typical AK-47 (which one is allowed to carry around for self-defense), but something that looked strikingly like a revolutionary war era flintlock rifle with a 3-4 foot barrel, and was probably being used for duck hunting.

On balance, it was nice to see the normalcy of a "city" street, and remember that mostly, people just want to have a job, earn enough to feed their family, have clean water, and go about their business.

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