Despite my best intentions to remain detached from the latest and last iteration of colleagues who I will soon leave behind, I have fallen into the trap of getting to know and like them. Even more surprising and rewarding has been the outbreak of friendship.
Anybody who changes jobs or moves with any frequency can attest that "senioritis" doesn't happen only when you get ready to leave home and strike out on your own after high school. The dismissive, sometimes cavalier attitude at school, disregard for your parents and the breakup with your prom date who would hold you back in your new life are easily detected in the "end-of-tour" worker. Productivity tends to slip, together with concern about being productive, minor frictions with colleagues tend to become inflamed, and efforts to build up new relationships tend to be half-hearted, and many contacts and projects are simply jettisoned as the conclusion is drawn that insufficient time remains to make real progress.
I'm guilty of all of the above and more, but have been stymied in my senioritis by interesting work that keeps me at my desk, and by enjoyable colleagues I have been forced to enjoy rather than ignore.
Among the newest military crew I found the usual mixture of fun-loving, hard-charging, very professional, very patriotic and very likeable guys. The current crew is not obsessed with sugary cereal in the same way as a previous unit, but comes with their own signature quirks, including a tendency to end meetings/conversations by saying "Airborne" which might be translated into civilian talk as "long live the airborne rangers".
On a very early morning (0300) during a very pleasant "camping trip" I was given some perspective on why "Airborne" Rangers tend to be a tad aggressive (though they also tend to season into extraordinary officers). One of my new friends pointed out the obvious fact that when you parachute into enemy territory, your choices are pretty straightforward win or die. Surrender isn't part of their vocabulary, and dying seems to be shunned less because of the traditional reasons (i.e. wanting to keep living) than because it gets in the way of winning...
So as I was saying, how can you not love having these guys by your side and watching your back?
Airborne!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Afghans are Doin'It For Themselves
Today I had that familiar phenomenon of getting a song stuck in your head, but I didn't mind. The song was the Annie Lennox (Eurythmics) and Aretha Franklin classic - "Sisters are Doing It For Themselves".
However, as I sat through a lengthy but inspirational speech which was NOT being translated (due to the tiny number of non-Afghans) - I tweaked the lyrics a bit to fit the mood of the day.
Undaunted by the loss of two of their new colleagues just days before the recruits headed back to villages threatened by insurgents and Doin'It For Themselves.
However, as I sat through a lengthy but inspirational speech which was NOT being translated (due to the tiny number of non-Afghans) - I tweaked the lyrics a bit to fit the mood of the day.
The occasion was the graduation of forty-some Afghan Local Police (ALP), who sat in the PRT gymnasium in their unadorned brown uniforms, while a gaggle of local elders looked on. They were a curious assortment of men ranging from beardless youngsters to longbeards who had clearly seen and felt the ravages of the conflicts that have swept Afghanistan for decades. U.S. and Korean facilitators sat in the back row while senior police officials hit both the familiar themes of duty, honor and public service that are at the core of nationhood, as well as other topics like religion that would never occur to an American commencement speaker. The new recruits were both praised for their work and that of their Afghan trainers and warned of severe punishment for infractions that have tarnished the reputation of other units (being out of uniform, being away from one's post, etc.).
In short, having attended countless ceremonies of this kind, it was apparent that this was the first that was completely (OK let's say 95%) Afghan - down to the ritual of affixing the only uniform patch with a firm smack on the arm and holding up the certificate and pledging their life for Afghanistan.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
The Good Old Days
As my time in Afghanistan rapidly approaches an end it is perhaps (hopefully) normal to feel a bit of nostalgia for some of the "good old days" and the good old guys who I had more time to get to know than most of the people around me now.
Yesterday I visited a base (the OCCP) I spent a lot of time on before the U.S. withdrew, and saw some Afghan soldiers who were part of our volleyball tradition, and who had accompanied us on various missions. They seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and it was nice to know the feeling was mutual.
The meeting I had, also reminded me of departed colleagues who had a biting, yet incredibly refreshing sense of humor that I will belatedly share. Referring to an unnamed individual one of them wrote, "it seems Mr. X has been replaced with an android with a new ethics chip" another replied "hmm, I've heard of these bots, but never seen one; I'd like seats to show, but must be seated in the bombproof section".
Sadly I remember the exchange because the new chip seems to be malfunctioning at the moment, but that's another story for another place.
I may have mentioned the difficulty of movement here, which is a constant grind. However I still had to grin at an old email about past travel which concluded with
Another popular subject of discussion/derision are the many, many reports and presentations that filter out to the field and are of, well, variable utility. One particularly noteworthy waste of time earned this response:
Other memorable comments ran the gamut from soliciting contributions to a personal retirement fund to laying claim to a ridiculously flamboyant vase of plastic flowers that had somehow migrated into the camp command center to all manner of less savory, but still good natured ideas/accusations.
Miss you guys.
Yesterday I visited a base (the OCCP) I spent a lot of time on before the U.S. withdrew, and saw some Afghan soldiers who were part of our volleyball tradition, and who had accompanied us on various missions. They seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and it was nice to know the feeling was mutual.
The meeting I had, also reminded me of departed colleagues who had a biting, yet incredibly refreshing sense of humor that I will belatedly share. Referring to an unnamed individual one of them wrote, "it seems Mr. X has been replaced with an android with a new ethics chip" another replied "hmm, I've heard of these bots, but never seen one; I'd like seats to show, but must be seated in the bombproof section".
Sadly I remember the exchange because the new chip seems to be malfunctioning at the moment, but that's another story for another place.
I may have mentioned the difficulty of movement here, which is a constant grind. However I still had to grin at an old email about past travel which concluded with
In an effort to better serve our customers, please note that our fees have increased by $20 per passenger (and there will no longer be a complimentary snack).
Another popular subject of discussion/derision are the many, many reports and presentations that filter out to the field and are of, well, variable utility. One particularly noteworthy waste of time earned this response:
I'm telling all of my friends that if they only have time to read one powerpoint presentation this summer, this is it. A rollercoaster of a ride and destined to become an overnight classic. Two thumbs up.
Other memorable comments ran the gamut from soliciting contributions to a personal retirement fund to laying claim to a ridiculously flamboyant vase of plastic flowers that had somehow migrated into the camp command center to all manner of less savory, but still good natured ideas/accusations.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Hey, hey - Out Bood!
One of the great things about life abroad is the diversity of people you meet, and the chance to overcome linguistic, economic and social barriers to make friendships on the basis of shared interests.
The field of sports is often the best place for this, and the opening of a new gymnasium on the compound was met with great enthusiasm by its residents. Koreans are passionate about badmitton, and I have had the pleasure of being soundly beaten by several of my Korean colleagues over the lunch hour. Unfortunately, badmitton has not proven a good way to break down the very pronounced tribal affiliations on the base to allow Korean civilians to play with the military, American soldiers to play with Koreans or most of all for the Afghan and TCNs -"third country" nationals (from Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan etc.) to mingle.
Volleyball on the other hand, is a far better mixer - although Korean participation has been erratic, limited, and (unfortunately) been known to perpetuate rather than reduce the barriers due to the sometimes arrogant demeanor of more senior players who insist on playing by the rules that prevail in Korea (which don't allow kicking for example), rather than what is generally agreed by the other dozen or so people who had agreed on a different set of rules thankyouverymuch. More problematic is the built-in conflict with the Korean military who has neglected to put up "blackout" covers on the windows to the gym, and therefore insists on ending the game by 7:30 far earlier than the players would like (since many have jobs in the cafeteria that keep them busy until almost 7). The soldiers are merely followin orders of course, but the night often ends with a game ending halfway through, and players speculating about whether any evil-doers really need the light from a few windows to locate a base that is almost a square mile in size with corners marked by towers, is located on a hill overlooking the valley, and is clearly visible by moonlight...
Nonetheless, it is both a great stress relief and a nice social time where Afghans, americans, TCNs and the odd Korean play hard, but have fun. The forwards (closest to the net) tend to be tall, heavy and aggressive, spiking with full force at every opportunity, and blocking the other side fearlessly. By american rules about hitting the net fouls are committed several times per point as players go head-to-head at the net. A "fouley" is only called if somebody gets hurt or almost pulls down the net. Any good spike (or spectacular but unintentional foul) is followed by a round of hand-slapping that goes across the net to the other team as well as within your own.
This is part of the fun, and some of the jokesters who play frequently declare "fouley bood" with no justification. "Fouley" is just "foul" with a Korean accent (the E sound) on the end - and "bood" means "was". Translation - that was a foul... Likewise, people either admit to, or accuse the other team of "touchey" - meaning, that a player touched a ball before it went out-of-bounds (and therefore the point goes to the other team). Whether a ball landed in-bounds or out-of-bounds is of course another common controversy which leads to admissions, or voiciferous accusations that a ball "Out Bood!".
The field of sports is often the best place for this, and the opening of a new gymnasium on the compound was met with great enthusiasm by its residents. Koreans are passionate about badmitton, and I have had the pleasure of being soundly beaten by several of my Korean colleagues over the lunch hour. Unfortunately, badmitton has not proven a good way to break down the very pronounced tribal affiliations on the base to allow Korean civilians to play with the military, American soldiers to play with Koreans or most of all for the Afghan and TCNs -"third country" nationals (from Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan etc.) to mingle.
Volleyball on the other hand, is a far better mixer - although Korean participation has been erratic, limited, and (unfortunately) been known to perpetuate rather than reduce the barriers due to the sometimes arrogant demeanor of more senior players who insist on playing by the rules that prevail in Korea (which don't allow kicking for example), rather than what is generally agreed by the other dozen or so people who had agreed on a different set of rules thankyouverymuch. More problematic is the built-in conflict with the Korean military who has neglected to put up "blackout" covers on the windows to the gym, and therefore insists on ending the game by 7:30 far earlier than the players would like (since many have jobs in the cafeteria that keep them busy until almost 7). The soldiers are merely followin orders of course, but the night often ends with a game ending halfway through, and players speculating about whether any evil-doers really need the light from a few windows to locate a base that is almost a square mile in size with corners marked by towers, is located on a hill overlooking the valley, and is clearly visible by moonlight...
Nonetheless, it is both a great stress relief and a nice social time where Afghans, americans, TCNs and the odd Korean play hard, but have fun. The forwards (closest to the net) tend to be tall, heavy and aggressive, spiking with full force at every opportunity, and blocking the other side fearlessly. By american rules about hitting the net fouls are committed several times per point as players go head-to-head at the net. A "fouley" is only called if somebody gets hurt or almost pulls down the net. Any good spike (or spectacular but unintentional foul) is followed by a round of hand-slapping that goes across the net to the other team as well as within your own.
This is part of the fun, and some of the jokesters who play frequently declare "fouley bood" with no justification. "Fouley" is just "foul" with a Korean accent (the E sound) on the end - and "bood" means "was". Translation - that was a foul... Likewise, people either admit to, or accuse the other team of "touchey" - meaning, that a player touched a ball before it went out-of-bounds (and therefore the point goes to the other team). Whether a ball landed in-bounds or out-of-bounds is of course another common controversy which leads to admissions, or voiciferous accusations that a ball "Out Bood!".
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Malaise
Happily, this is more in the realm of historical record, but hopefully still worth a read.
While I am both an optimist and a beleiver that people generally dislike whiners, it seems disingenuous not to post on the subject of "down" days.
Like anywhere else and anyone else there are times when things just don't go your way and it feels like the world is conspiring to ruin your day.
Here, it is not usually work challenges (in their various forms) but the lulls in work and the isolation that take a toll. Having an abundance of free time and limited options on how to utilize it (becoming a SCHMONK) is a recipe for trouble even for non-teens, with the most common outcome being to despair about the challenges facing this country and stewing about where the whole enterprise is headed. If you can find a friend, it is usually possible to start a lively debate, pontificate on what you'd change if you held all the cards, and call it a night. If you have a more honest debate, you will concede that as outsiders we hold very few cards, and that the rural, uneducated masses, with whom we have scant contact or ability to engage, hold a decisive number.
Not finding somebody to lift your spirits with by arguing about HOW and WHEN things will take a turn for the worse then the solitary rumination is likely to produce the a common diplonerd affliction - malaise.
Recent headlines illustrate my point:
Take for instance the "Ethnographic Atlas of Non-Pashtun Ethnic Groups of Afghanistan," published in June by the government-appointed Academy of Sciences Afghanistan.
It notes that "The Hazaras are liars, dishonest, and unreliable people," and "[The] bodies of their women are hairless except on the head. The Hazaras are the sons of Mongol Khans living in the mountains of Afghanistan. These people [know] nothing except fighting." It goes on to describe the Hazaras as "rafizi" -- worse than infidels. Not exactly promoting ethnic harmony...
Or -
Citing Kandahar's provincial administration spokesman Jawed Faisal, local media reports said that the arrested children aged 8, 12 and 17 and all from Kandahar, have been taken into police custody for interrogation.
The NATO-led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) also confirmed the arrest of junior insurgents. In a statement released on June 28, the alliance said that two children and one young adult were arrested while they were found carrying improvised explosive devices (IEDs).
"The Afghan National Police took children carrying improvised explosive devices into custody and the Afghan Local Police found multiple IEDs and a large amount of homemade explosives June 28 in Zharay District, Kandahar province," the statement added. The Taliban has been known to tell the children they can kill the foreign troops without being hurt themselves...
As a taxpayer, one of my favorites:
Pakistan's refusal to let NATO access its ports and roads into Afghanistan has cost the Pentagon more than $2.1 billion in extra transportation costs to move supplies and equipment in and out of the country.
Pakistan closed the ground route to NATO supplies after a U.S. airstrike mistakenly killed 24 of its soldiers last November. The only other access to land-locked Afghanistan is through the Northern Distribution Network, a series of roads through Russia and Central Asia. Closure of the Pakistani routes is costing the U.S. military about an extra $100 million per month
BUT - I'm feeling better today, since saying "sorry" allowed the supply routes to open...
While I am both an optimist and a beleiver that people generally dislike whiners, it seems disingenuous not to post on the subject of "down" days.
Like anywhere else and anyone else there are times when things just don't go your way and it feels like the world is conspiring to ruin your day.
Here, it is not usually work challenges (in their various forms) but the lulls in work and the isolation that take a toll. Having an abundance of free time and limited options on how to utilize it (becoming a SCHMONK) is a recipe for trouble even for non-teens, with the most common outcome being to despair about the challenges facing this country and stewing about where the whole enterprise is headed. If you can find a friend, it is usually possible to start a lively debate, pontificate on what you'd change if you held all the cards, and call it a night. If you have a more honest debate, you will concede that as outsiders we hold very few cards, and that the rural, uneducated masses, with whom we have scant contact or ability to engage, hold a decisive number.
Not finding somebody to lift your spirits with by arguing about HOW and WHEN things will take a turn for the worse then the solitary rumination is likely to produce the a common diplonerd affliction - malaise.
Recent headlines illustrate my point:
Take for instance the "Ethnographic Atlas of Non-Pashtun Ethnic Groups of Afghanistan," published in June by the government-appointed Academy of Sciences Afghanistan.
It notes that "The Hazaras are liars, dishonest, and unreliable people," and "[The] bodies of their women are hairless except on the head. The Hazaras are the sons of Mongol Khans living in the mountains of Afghanistan. These people [know] nothing except fighting." It goes on to describe the Hazaras as "rafizi" -- worse than infidels. Not exactly promoting ethnic harmony...
Or -
Citing Kandahar's provincial administration spokesman Jawed Faisal, local media reports said that the arrested children aged 8, 12 and 17 and all from Kandahar, have been taken into police custody for interrogation.
The NATO-led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) also confirmed the arrest of junior insurgents. In a statement released on June 28, the alliance said that two children and one young adult were arrested while they were found carrying improvised explosive devices (IEDs).
"The Afghan National Police took children carrying improvised explosive devices into custody and the Afghan Local Police found multiple IEDs and a large amount of homemade explosives June 28 in Zharay District, Kandahar province," the statement added. The Taliban has been known to tell the children they can kill the foreign troops without being hurt themselves...
As a taxpayer, one of my favorites:
Pakistan's refusal to let NATO access its ports and roads into Afghanistan has cost the Pentagon more than $2.1 billion in extra transportation costs to move supplies and equipment in and out of the country.
Pakistan closed the ground route to NATO supplies after a U.S. airstrike mistakenly killed 24 of its soldiers last November. The only other access to land-locked Afghanistan is through the Northern Distribution Network, a series of roads through Russia and Central Asia. Closure of the Pakistani routes is costing the U.S. military about an extra $100 million per month
BUT - I'm feeling better today, since saying "sorry" allowed the supply routes to open...
Sunday, July 1, 2012
No Primary Attachments
One of the most interesting parts of life in a confined space is the interpersonal dynamics which evolve.
Living in a "fishbowl" is not an uncommon experience in the Foreign Service; indeed, many of the expat communities we have been a part of over the years were effectively much smaller than my circle of acquaintances at the PRT, on Bagram and at the Embassy.
All the same, the mix of stress, nationalities, and weapons make for a pretty weird dynamic, and each location is itself unique. FOB Shangri-la is almost eerily calm, relaxed, and peaceful with the luxuries of space, a great view and the Koreans insisting on maintaining a 5-day workweek, holding church services and otherwise making things about as "normal" as possible.
BAF is hectic, brusque, and militarized and I get stir-crazy there despite the availability of Pizza Hut, a free movie theater, and the closest thing to mall you'll find in Afghanistan.
The Embassy takes the cake for oddity and population density - making it my least favorite spot, despite it having a pool (which I've not yet used) that is the source of endless ribbing by military colleagues. It is commonly and aptly described a third-world country club/construction site. It takes about 24 hours to test drive all of the dining facilities (the neighboring ISAF compound has easily the best chow), find the post office and otherwise experience life in the big city. Then you settle into the life of the thousand plus full-time residents, of working, or at least hanging out in the office for a long day, then sampling the nightlife.
This is when those awkward dynamics can come into play and you see the effects of stress and monotony. Truth is, I don't have crazy tales to tell about shenanigans at the "Duck and Cover" as the Embassy bar is known. Of course that is probably due to my decision to "duck and cover" back to my own hooch before anybody progressed from merely goofy to embarrasing or offensive.
Mostly though, what is evident is the odd combination of comraderie and distance. I had a total stranger buy me a beer simply because I was a friend of his friend (by virtue of having been in the same training class 16 years ago and trading emails at least twice in the intervening years...). Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. At the same time though there is a staleness to the predictable track of conversation which I am convinced stems from all of us wanting a measure of companionship but limiting almost all of our conversations to a superficial level due to the transience of our stay and the high improbability that circumstance and inclinations will combine to allow a genuine friendship to flourish. Consequently, a conversation typically starts with work, takes an obligatory meander into how the family is, and then often stalls out, or is replaced with an extended discussion of the local cat population, or a similarly marginal topic of conversation.
A friend (yes they do still exist) explained it simply as a result of the fact that few of us have any "Primary Attachments" so we drift around our fishbowl passing our time with pleasant chatter, time-consuming hobbies (like exercise), and work.
Living in a "fishbowl" is not an uncommon experience in the Foreign Service; indeed, many of the expat communities we have been a part of over the years were effectively much smaller than my circle of acquaintances at the PRT, on Bagram and at the Embassy.
All the same, the mix of stress, nationalities, and weapons make for a pretty weird dynamic, and each location is itself unique. FOB Shangri-la is almost eerily calm, relaxed, and peaceful with the luxuries of space, a great view and the Koreans insisting on maintaining a 5-day workweek, holding church services and otherwise making things about as "normal" as possible.
BAF is hectic, brusque, and militarized and I get stir-crazy there despite the availability of Pizza Hut, a free movie theater, and the closest thing to mall you'll find in Afghanistan.
The Embassy takes the cake for oddity and population density - making it my least favorite spot, despite it having a pool (which I've not yet used) that is the source of endless ribbing by military colleagues. It is commonly and aptly described a third-world country club/construction site. It takes about 24 hours to test drive all of the dining facilities (the neighboring ISAF compound has easily the best chow), find the post office and otherwise experience life in the big city. Then you settle into the life of the thousand plus full-time residents, of working, or at least hanging out in the office for a long day, then sampling the nightlife.
This is when those awkward dynamics can come into play and you see the effects of stress and monotony. Truth is, I don't have crazy tales to tell about shenanigans at the "Duck and Cover" as the Embassy bar is known. Of course that is probably due to my decision to "duck and cover" back to my own hooch before anybody progressed from merely goofy to embarrasing or offensive.
Mostly though, what is evident is the odd combination of comraderie and distance. I had a total stranger buy me a beer simply because I was a friend of his friend (by virtue of having been in the same training class 16 years ago and trading emails at least twice in the intervening years...). Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. At the same time though there is a staleness to the predictable track of conversation which I am convinced stems from all of us wanting a measure of companionship but limiting almost all of our conversations to a superficial level due to the transience of our stay and the high improbability that circumstance and inclinations will combine to allow a genuine friendship to flourish. Consequently, a conversation typically starts with work, takes an obligatory meander into how the family is, and then often stalls out, or is replaced with an extended discussion of the local cat population, or a similarly marginal topic of conversation.
A friend (yes they do still exist) explained it simply as a result of the fact that few of us have any "Primary Attachments" so we drift around our fishbowl passing our time with pleasant chatter, time-consuming hobbies (like exercise), and work.
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