Well, as many of you know, I spent six weeks in Africa this past summer with my niece Jessica. We had a lovely time, but it was then back to reality. It seems though that my reality is a bit different than most folks.

 

In September I left Canada for Afghanistan where I spent three months. My job is safety and security, so I had my work cut out for me given the situation there over the past while. The three months passed so quickly that I actually felt it ended too soon. I had some wonderful opportunities while there and met some great people. We had the chance to one of our projects for widows and orphans when the Vice-President for Operations came for a review. We then visited some schools for girls.

 

A memorable day was the visit to Qarabagh, where we went to some of our water projects. In one town, we parked the cars and hiked up a very steep hill to the site. Then came the mandatory tea, grapes, biscuits and sweets on a lovely carpet - in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly we heard (and could see) a loud explosion. No worries... It was just a demining team out doing some controlled explosions! A bit surreal, but then that’s what this life is about.

 

 

In the morning, we were all rudely awoken. By what, you ask? Well, my first thought was “Sh-t, I told Lex we weren’t at risk of sustained rocket attack here.” Second (stream of consciousness) thought, “Damn. It’s artillery. But no concussion.” Final thought, that coincided with Noorzai’s voice from the room next door (in absolute deadpan),” Earthquake.” It felt and sounded like a freight train was rolling through the room. The sound was the eeriest sound because it didn’t belong. After the tremors ceased, we all gathered on the front porch for a few minutes, giggled nervously, and then went back to bed. Not much sleeping going on after that, I must say.

 

We drove back from Mazar to Kabul, which was yet another experience. In the days of the Soviet invasion, the Russians built the highest vehicle tunnel in the world, which is just short of 3000 m. It is very nearly at the height at which you can get altitude sickness. Not to mention, an unruly stomach thanks to fear of driving through Russian built tunnels that reminded me of my image of Lubyanka. The tunnel system passes through what is known as the Salang Pass. And although it is called the Salang Tunnel, there are actually a number of them.

 

My last big adventure involved doing an impromptu test of our land evacuation route. On the day before I was scheduled to leave, Kabul had a huge snowstorm. The airport is not all that well-equipped and as a result all flights were cancelled. Shoaib, my driver, kept telling me that I was not leaving and that he was praying for more snow so that I would stay an extra week :) Nice to be loved, but I wanted to get to Sri Lanka to see Kev for our wedding anniversary.

 

Anyways, that night we had a small get together at the guesthouse as a going away for me. It was made even smaller by the fact that no one could travel with the roads so bad. So, we sat around eating lovely snacks prepared by Juli. Lex and Kebar (our director of Finance and Admin) were having a little cabal in the kitchen. They then informed me that if I could not fly out, they would make arrangements for me to go by road to Peshawar, Pakistan and fly from there.

 

The next morning proved to be difficult. Multiple calls to the airport gave us the information that the plane was on the ground and prepared to leave. Nevertheless, we got the two vehicles prepared and made tentative arrangements with a travel agent to book flights out of Pakistan for me. Shoaib parcelled me up and took me to the airport. I went in and was told that I could not pass through to check-in yet. I went to the restaurant and before I knew it Shoaib was there with me (bribed his way in?). We shared my kabob and drink while he told me that the most recent announcement was that my flight was cancelled. Of course, this is the fellow who has been praying for my delayed departure, so I thought he was kidding. However, it was not the case.

 

We ate quickly and then dashed back to the truck with all my bags, drove back to the office to get the “long-haul” vehicles, along with another couple of drivers (expats are not allowed to travel in one vehicle - we need two in a convoy) and headed to Jalalabad. We could only go that far due to the time, but if we were on the road early in the morning, I would have time to make the flight from Peshawar to Dubai.

 

So off we went in our little two vehicle convoy headed to Jalalabad. We got to stay at famous (?) SpinGhar Hotel that night and dined on the most succulent kabobs and salad in town. I was the only noticeable woman in the establishment and the rough looking characters (rather Taliban-esque) in the back got a good look at me eating. But it still felt safe. It was more curiosity than anything else. After dinner, I felt like we had our own little Afghan family in my room - tea, lots of tea, black tea, green tea, and more tea. The older non-English speaking driver watched my TV, while Shoaib and I perused pictures of Africa on my computer. It was raining outside and it felt quite homey.

 

A very early start got us to the Pakistan border and the entrance to the Khyber Pass. Because I was (still am) a foreigner, we had to take an armed guard with us in our vehicle. The guard changed about every ten kilometers until we reached Peshawar. The Khyber Pass is probably quite lovely and rugged, but given the fog and clouds that day, I didn’t actually get to see much. We arrived in Peshawar with time to spare - except that the travel agent did not yet have my booking, and that there is a time change that no one mentioned! As it was, the flight was delayed (al humdillilah) and I was still on time. The Pakistani security people at the airport were rather curious about my body armour (lovingly referred to by private security friends as my “barbie” armour since it is white, small and cute). Anyways, the Pakistani security folks wondered why I would have entered Afghanistan via Kabul and leave via Peshawar. They also decided to take all the plates out of my armour to inspect them... They were terribly polite about it and asked all sorts of questions, but no one offered to help me put it back together!

 

Well, the highlight of the story is that ultimately I arrived in Sri Lanka on our anniversary. I was a day later than anticipated, but was there nevertheless. We had a wonderful dinner at the “secret place” -- a beautiful little restaurant which we are loath to tell anyone else about in fear of it becoming an expat hangout. I stayed in Sri Lanka for a few days before heading home to snuggle with pups..

 

Next installment: Afghanistan February 2007 to follow...