LaneEnder

Home, sweet home

2010-07-15T09:47:00.000+01:00

Just a quickie to say. I am back safely from Angola and am lapping up the glorious English summer.

pepper pots

2010-06-21T21:05:00.002+01:00

Just eight years ago the town of Huambo was the scene of bloody fighting and a massacre of the local population. It was a typical proxy Cold War scenario with the South Africans and Cubans fighting out a war on Angolan soil for East/West supremacy.

However, one of the strangest things about Huambo and the Angolan people is the way they have put this behind them and moved on. I have discussed this before but bring it up again as an small explanation of the photo on this entry. This bulding, peppered with heavy machine gun and RPG fire, clearly shows the intensity of the fighting. Most of the buildings in this street are like this.

A reminder of the recent past.

Keeping up those ball skills!

2010-06-16T12:26:00.004+01:00

When you are working and living far from home and your everyday life, you look for things that make an alien world more pleasing. Here at the house in Huambo we have a table tennis able setup outdoors in the gym area. As you can see this is the latest in luxury air-conditioned gymnasium facilities. In the foreground to the left you can see the cross trainer and to the right the free weights station. The table tennis table is in the middle and the decrepit (but functioning) rowing machine is on the far side behind the TT table. My bedroom is known as the ping-pong room as it is on the left and opens straight out into this area. I am not yet allowed to live inside the house!!!!!

Most evenings we have an impromptu tournament with the winner staying on. At first it was clear who could play and who could not and we just played for fun. However, as we have progressed over the last week or so everyone has been getting better. We can rally now, spin the ball and serve OVER the net.

Of course, this would not be Angola if there was not a hint of an Angolan influence and that is provided by the lights that pulse in time with the water pump. As the water pump turns so the lights fade up and down giving a mind altering stroboscopic effect which can cause the ball to fade from view and re-appear just slightly from where you last saw it and where you are moving to hit it.

In case you are wondering why we need lights in the evening. As you get nearer the equator the days do not extend at different times of the year as they do further away. The length of the day is pretty constant from “winter” to “summer” and it is dark by 7pm, so the lights are important.

What started as fun, with most of us just managing to get the ball over the net and the better players knocking it up for us has taken on a distinctly competitive edge as the games are now getting closer. Much passion and excitement is roused with new found pride being very much at stake.

Even the less interesting football matches are being ignored as the truly competitive are spending more and more time practising and honing their TT skills. Two of the better players have been away in Luanda this week and we lesser mortals have been preparing for their return on Friday. I predict a competitive weekend is approaching, one to outstrip the football pitches of South Africa.

Thank goodness no-one has brought one of those pesky vevezula things to our competition.

At the market

2010-06-14T17:22:00.006+01:00

And so we finally come to the market. What an experience this was and how unique in all my time of visiting bazaars and markets in various corners of the globe.

The market is a ramshackle collection of corrugated tin huts on one side of the road, and on the other, people sat out in the sun with their sparse wares in front of them on upturned crates. It is located out of town on a windswept hillock. All around the market is desolate, just bare red earth like a scene from a post-atomic war film. There are swirling clouds of dust and rubbish being caught up in the wind and rising in the thermals from the heat.

The colours, sights and smells that assail your senses are amazing with the goats and chickens next to the clothes sellers, fruit and veg sellers and the knick-knack sellers.

As you get closer you notice the rubbish piles that are fuelling the swirling clouds overhead. The complete and utter mess of it all. Piles of plastic bags and discarded wrapping . All around the outside of the market is rubbish, piles of decay and mess waiting to rot down. In amongst it all is the ubiquitous plastic bags and wrapping. As the wind blows this is thrown up into the air along with the dust kicked up by the crowds.

On getting nearer, you can't help notice the deafening sound of salsa beat music drumming out of some of the huts at volume 11. As you pass one of these huts (and there is at least one in every row) the sound is deafening and distorted. Although the beat is good, the volume and distortion simply seem to loosen your bowels and destroy your ears. Angolans love noise.

Some of the clothes stalls have random clothes hanging up, but most are like charity shop leftovers. There are literally piles of cast off clothes in stacks on the floor. Babies, children's, adult's, men's and women's clothes. It is clearly where the clothes that you put in the recycling skips end up. Most have western slogans on the t-shirts and sweatshirts. Some are worn out, some simply worn and a few are new, but all piled up on the floor for you to rummage through. There is no attempt at sorting them in any way by size, sex or style, just a pile. We are interested in the clothes shops as we are hunting for an Angolan belt of Black and Red with the Angolan flag proudly emblazoned on the buckle. Unfortunately today is Sunday and the market is relatively quiet and the belt seller is missing. We will have to come back next Saturday.

In one area are the livestock sellers with tethered goats and chickens with their legs tied together stumbling around and falling over in the dirt. Next to them are the fly sellers. Well, I thought they were selling flies until I realised under the flies were pieces of meat. I am told there is no concept of the different cuts of meat here and you simply get a piece of meat, when you buy it, but of course, I have no idea how true this is.

Then we come to the fruit and veg – now this I do have experience of. If you enlarge the photo and look carefully at the sellers you will see that everything is in neat little piles. These are the quantities. The tomato lady will have piles of say, 5 tomatoes in each. You have to buy in quantities of 5. if you want 8 you have to buy 10. She will only sell them in the piles prepared for you. Heaven forbid you start to mix up the piles. This will be frowned upon. The lady selling onions had 3 washing up bowls of onions in front of her. We wanted 2 or 3 onions, but she was only selling by the bowlful, 10 onions for 500 Kwanzas. There is no point in offering 100 Kz for 2 onions or even 150Kz for 2 onions, she will not sell. If you think the price is too high there is no point in haggling, she will not sell. It is the strangest and most rigid market system I have ever encountered. The veg is good and there are onions, okra, carrots, garlic, aubergines, tomatoes, potatoes amongst others. The chillies are tiny, so we bought the standard small pile. Oh dear, they proved to be very potent when we made the curry later that day. Small but fiery would be a good description.

So we have our bag full of standard measures of everything we need and much. 10 onions, 5 garlics, 4 aubergines etc. I am sure you get he picture.

A group of boys follow us round the market. They keep a discreet distance and never ask for anything. This is the Angolan way. Begging is rare. We buy 2 packets of peanuts and give them to the boys. They smile and wander off.

We have finished our shopping expedition and return to the house. It is Sunday and my turn to cook dinner. We will have a veggie (mainly aubergine) curry and rice for dinner.

As we drive back we pass numerous people all dressed in their Sunday best. Church attendance is high and many are on their way to/from church. It makes for a wonderful spectacle, especially the small children and the little boys in their suits and the little girls dressed in their special Sunday frocks.

Question Time

2010-06-12T16:16:00.003+01:00

It's Saturday and we have the afternoon off which gives me the opportunity to answers some of your questions. This is obviously a pretty arduous task and requires me to be in the right frame of mind.

So, I am here on the upstairs balcony overlooking the main road out front. The traffic is light at this time of day (3pm) with the odd dilapidated car and a number of motorbikes passing by. Bicycles never seem to be ridden but are often to be seen loaded up with goods and possessions and being pushed down the road. It appears that in Angola bicycle = wheelbarrow. The motorbikes and scooters are usually ridden sans helmet. The cars are usually dilapidated and barely moving interspersed with the latest 4x4. Pedestrians are few and far between and are often women walking alone with a baby strapped to their backs. Often they are also carrying a large bowl or basket on their heads. So, the scene is pretty peaceful, I have my laptop on my lap and my iPod gently playing “My Favourites” playlist. A chilled beer is on the floor beside my chair and I think I am ready to begin giving answers.

But, forgive me, I have forgotten to tell you about the flora and fauna. The rainy season is just over and so the scene is green and lush. There are thick green leaved trees all around. In fact, from my seat here on the balcony I could reach forward and pick a lemon from the tree in our front garden that is providing me with shade as I write this. The central reservation of the road in front is full of thick green grass. However, everything is beginning to dry out now and the first effect is the dust. This is not the biblical dust of Kabul, but is getting thicker and more abundant. The soil is red and everything is beginning to take on a red hue, particularly my legs at the moment. Is that the dust or the sun?

Animals are few and far between. There is an amazing lack of wildlife (as I have said before). There are a few dogs roaming, but these too seem to have the Angolan relaxed attitude to life and have no interest in barking, chasing or generally getting involved at all.

So, I come to my first query. The Charity Shop Fairy (shouldn't that be ex-CSF) wants some information for her Lonely Planet good veggie guide. Well, the truth is that Angola does not rate high on the scale. Tomorrow me and one of my companions are going to the market to check out the fresh fruit and veg. We are hoping to cook an extravagant and delicious Veg curry tomorrow for the team. (Sunday is the maids day off). So, I will report back on that. However, Angola suffers from that war cooking mentality that was prevalent in Afghanistan. A very repetitive and boring diet. I am not sure what the locals cook here, but the maids cook for us generally, chicken, stew and burgers. Having been told I am veggie they now boil some potatoes, carrots and cabbage every day. The variation comes from eating this with either rice or bread!!! We went to a chicken restaurant recently and they did cook me an omelette, but a quorn bolognese or tofu chow mein is not going to happen.

Now the innkeeper (would that be Mr Barleyman Butterbar of the Prancing Pony) wants some background on what the hell am I doing here. I am here in Huambo for 3 weeks, finishing with 2 days in Luanda before flying back to the UK. I am Acting, Temporary, Deputy, Assistant Finance Officer for an UK NGO that is the worlds largest HMA organisation. But, what is HMA, I hear you ask. Humanitarian Mine Action also known as demining. We are here ridding this country of landmines, the Remnants of War and Weapons and Ammunition Destruction. Clearing land to allow the local people to return to their homes, to plough their fields again and to be able to live their lives in safety, free from the threat of being blown up or killed.

As for a beer in France? My dear Barleyman, beer is never going to tempt me to France, however a convivial time spent with you and Mrs. Butterbar and a bottle of fine French wine sounds very appealing.

The experience here is totally different to Afghanistan or Sri Lanka. In Sri Lanka the war was still going on and although there was no direct threat there was the underlying strain of a country at war with roadblocks, curfews and the fear of incoming shelling. Whilst Afghanistan had the ever present threat of direct attack which consequently meant all travel took place in armoured vehicles and armed guards were ever present. Here the people are cheerful and relaxed. Maybe a little too relaxed when it comes to work!!

Incredibly there seems to be no hangover from a brutal war that only finished 8 years ago. Most people simply brush it off and look forward, happy in the security and safety they now enjoy (although very poor) There is no overt ethnic tension and all seems to be friendly. Walking round the town in the evening poses no threat at all and is probably safer than on your average British street.

So that sums up the situation, I think.

There is a bit of a breeze getting up which has taken the edge off the heat and is very pleasant. I shall sit and read for a while then maybe do some exercise before I settle down this evening with a couple of cans and watch the England – USA game. My prediction is 3-0 to England, Darren Bent getting a well deserved hat-trick.

As for your comment Mangles. What can I say. I am obviously putting a rose tinted gloss on this for you, the audience. ITS HELL.

Its tough, but someones gotta do it!

2010-06-09T20:42:00.004+01:00

Those of you who have followed this blog over the years will know that I have lived in some crumby accomodation and had little to do in my "leisure" time. Not so in fair Angola.

Our house is big and has a large BBQ area, garden (well, dirt patch) and even a recreation area with a rowing machine (display dead, seat wonky and footrests broken), a cross trainer (display dead, very dusty) a set of weights and a table tennis table.

As we start early we are able to get home early-ish. I have been rowing and using the weights and then have the proverbial 3 S's followed by dinner and then some of us play ping-pong. Unfortunately it is dark when we play and the lights over the table pulse as the water pump runs causing the ball to appear and disappear and appear and disappear. Yep, it is ping-pong by strobe light. So as you can see this is a luxurious 5 star paradise compared to most of my haunts. But I am with a great bunch of blokes and it is really enjoyable.

As I have said before, the Angolans are cheerful and friendly people. There is no problem walking round the town at night and going to a restaurant or a bar. The most dangerous thing would be eating the food!!

As for tea, of course we have the ubiquietous Yellow Label tea. this seems to be the only tea sold outside of Her Majesty's realm. It is always the only tea available. It is good, but the homogenised, sterilised carton milk kind of takes away any good flavour you have lovingly instilled using the standard British tea making ceremony.

One of the guys who has been here a while has promised to take me shopping on Saturday, so I am looking forward to an interesting day. Apparently there are 2 main markets. One for fruit and veg and the other full of extremely tacky, very low quality fake designer goods. I presume this will equal the famous "genuine Okley" glasses they sold in Kabul.

Still no roaming herds of Wildebeest, but I am assured we have scorpions and snakes. In fact, I was told to not wear open sandals as scorpions have been known to wander into my finance office and wander around. Very large and dangerous snakes are aplenty, but only out from the town. Of course there are rats, just like everywhere so all food has to be kept locked away. Well not actually locked, rats are not that good at picking locks, but the larder door closed. I can report a very large cockroach wandered past me while I was rowing last night but that scuttled off into shadows and disappeared not to be seen again. Frankly, I would have thought the sight of me on the rowing machine would at least have got it to pause and watch in amazement, but no.

So, on the whole a rather pleasing existence, although no squash courts, so it obviously can't be tolerated for too long.

Till the next time - oh yes, did I tell you what a lovely sunny day it was today. Might even get to spend some time in the sun, come the weekend!!!!

The daily grind

2010-06-08T20:48:00.004+01:00

I have arrived. I am here in Huambo in the central highlands of Angola. We have a big house that is right opposite a very large and modern hospital. Huambo is a classic example of a town that has been devastated by a recent war.

Many old buildings full of holes from guns, artillery and missiles. Modern new buildings often built with foreign money that has come into the country in the post-war period and lots of temporary haphazard building by returning refugees desperate to establish a home to begin rebuilding their lives from.

The hospital is an example of those new buildings, as is the bank in the centre of town and various other municipal buildings. Then there is the block of flats we pass on the way to work. The roof was used as a anti-aircraft gun location and the building shows the scars of the battle that took place to dislodge it. The whole building is covered in holes from various calibre weapons and half the top floor flat is missing and is mass of twisted metal and concrete rubble where a missile took out the gun emplacement.

Then on the outskirts of town are the growing shanty towns. As people return with no money or possessions this is there only way of establishing a foothold in life. The houses are small squares made of mud blocks (or concrete blocks where available). There is no running water, electricity or sanitation. They are sprawling areas that simply grow up on the outskirts. The soil though is fertile and the climate helps growth. Although crushingly poor food does not appear to be a problem and there are very few beggars.

As you look out of the window at the grey skies and the thought of the traffic jam on the way to work have a thought for me and my daily grind to the office here. We go to work in the morning at around 6am. The sun is shining the temperature is warm, it is the dry season. We have the windows open on the Land Rover and we pass the odd vehicle as we thread our way through the streets. We pass the shanty town as it is stirring into life and come across our first traffic. There are rows of small minibuses and trucks lined up on the side of the road waiting to pick up workers to take them off to work somewhere in the area. The area is a teeming throng of people, colour and noise as people jostle for positions in the trucks.

The population mix is very interesting. I am told that 50% of the population is under 15 and that the life expectancy is now 42 (it has risen from 37). So there are many women carrying children on their backs tied up in large scarves. Life has condensed. At an expectancy of even 42, a 21 year is half way through their life. A parent needs to have their children by 22 if they want to see their childs 20th birthday.

The local workers come in around 7.30 and the day begins. We stop for a very civilised lunch around 1pm. The ex-pat group congregate under a thatched roof open sided building where we are provided with our daily lunch. It is an opportunity for us to have a chat and all spend half an hour relaxing together. The temperature is just right for T-shirt dining with the sun shining brightly around us and the shade of the thatch being cool.

My office, I share with my team of local staff is large, spacious and cool. The staff are typically Angolan, cheerful and always willing to learn.

We leave around 5pm and head for home. Tomorrow I will tell you about the house and our social life. Don't forget to check those windscreen wipers I have checked - you have rain all week.

Trekkies

2010-06-07T19:51:00.000+01:00

So eventually the fridge doors were opened and yes, even at 4am, Luanda is hot. The heat came through the doors, past the throng in the aisles and settled upon me. The heat just came straight through your clothes and made you sweat while standing on the spot. You just wanted to be out of the plane and onto the tarmac. Hopefully there is a breeze out there.

Now Luanda airport has a terrible reputation as being mosquito infested, hot, sweaty, long queues, random system and a man that threatens to inject you on the spot if you can't show a Yellow Fever inoculation certificate. BUT, earlier this year Angola hosted the football African Cup of Nations and one very pleasing by-product of this festival of footie was a NEW airport building. As I headed towards it in trepidation I realised I was faced by a modern gleaming arrival hall. No mosquitoes, air conditioning (fortunately not the demented kind a la BA) and an orderly queue for the Passport control. Everything proceeded with rather disappointing ease and I was through (past the Yellow Fever man – he is still there) and on to baggage reclaim. This is just too darn easy, I thought. In fact, I tempted fate and fate came straight back and hit me between the eyes.

A brand new baggage reclaim complete with various modern carousels. But there are just some things that will always remain the same. As I waited for over an hour bags would appear down the luggage chute 4 at a time. Yes, always 4 at a time. How do you unload a plane 4 bags at a time? It became a game, as the 3rd bag appeared would there be only 3 or a 4th or even a 5th. Such is the ease with which you can occupy your mind after a long journey. Still my bags arrived eventually and off out through customs to the arrival hall where the rest of the team was waiting for me to joint hem on the road to Huambo.

Angola has changed a lot since the end of the war and a lot of effort has been put into clearing the road infrastructure of land mines and the roads have been re-tarmaced and are now good quality single and double carriageways. What used to be a 2 day trek is now about 8-9 hours.

Huambo is up in the central highlands, 1700metres up, in fact, which puts it on a par with many Alpine ski resorts. It is therefore a great place for us Shady Characters as the temperature at this time of year is a very pleasant upper 70's to lower 80's. With the dry season this also ensures there is very low humidity. Yes, folks you are in the middle of a geography lesson! I will continue and stop yawning at the back. Huambo was badly affected during the war that ended eventually in 2002 and there have been a number of massacres in the town and environs.

So, back to the journey. Fortunately the Land Rover doubles as an ambulance and we took it in turns to lay on the stretcher in the back and have a well deserved sleep. However, as the day wore on and we got further into nowhere the countryside became more and more spectacular. Imagine Dimbleby on the Savannah filming lions and tigers, zebras and gazelles. Well that is exactly the scenery, but not a single wild animal in sight. We passed a valley with a lake in the bottom: nothing at the watering hole. Not even a herd of roaming Wildebeest. Basil Faulty would have been very disappointed.

Every now and then we would pass a small township. Mud brick huts and corrugated tin roofs with small gardens and very small fields growing various crops. At the side of the road are women and children, all dressed in bright colours sitting next to piles of fruit and veg. The produce from the fields are all on sale. The site is so intriguing with the colours of the fruit and the bright clothes of the people. We stop, we buy five bananas and continue our trek.

Eventually we arrive at Huambo. Whats it like. I'll tell you tomorrow.

A shady character

2010-06-06T11:29:00.003+01:00

Those of you who know me well, and have endured travelling in my car will know I am a chap that likes things cool rather than hot. I have the heat in the car permanently set to the blue – even in the deep mid winter.

When I go somewhere sunny you can rely on me to be skulking in the shadows out of the sun - a true shady character. So last night I board my BA flight from Heathrow to Luanda in Angola. I am wearing a shirt and trousers as I am NEVER cool enough on a plane, it is always a bit too warm for me. We take off at 8pm and they serve us dinner, then the lights are dimmed and we are expected to sleep most of the 8 hour flight except for one rather important detail. At this point they set the cabin temperature to freezing. I kid you not. I have to unwrap the blanket they have kindly provided and try to completely engulf myself inside the blanket to try to stay warm. Up to my neck, tucked in over my shoulders and down over my feet. This is COLD. Sleeping is impossible as you shiver, but then another effect begins to set in, a strange feeling that combined with tiredness overcomes even the cramped confines of a cattle class seat.

Now I am not an expert on Cryogenics and I don't really understand suspended animation, but I do understand that the colder you make something, the slower it becomes. Maybe this is the plan: a planeload of passengers, slow down their bodies and reactions to zero, lock them in suspended animation and then the crew get a quiet night!

The temperature came up around 3am, they served us breakfast and we landed at 4am. The plane touched down safely in Angola, everyone jumped up out of their seats, there was the usual scrum for luggage and then everyone stood. Stood and waited for the plane to halt, for the doors to be opened and to get out. So here we are down in the southern hemisphere, unsure of what awaits and waiting for the doors to open and the adventure to begin. 5 hours frozen sleep in a cattle class seat is not ideal preparation and my brain is a little fuzzy. But in the back of my mind I am thinking: “If I have been frozen for 5 hours – am I just a little younger than you today?”

Next I will tell you what happened when the doors finally opened.

will he, won't he?

2010-06-02T15:07:00.002+01:00

Well, tomorrow I am going to the Angolan Embassy to hopefully pick up my passport complete with Angolan visa. IF its there I shall be taking the evening flight to Luanda on Friday and arriving very early Saturday morning. (like 4am early). Then it is 8 hours in a Land Rover from Luanda out to my new home in Huambo. Once I get there I will try to report back on what the journey and the countryside was like.

That is, of course, assuming my knee and back are feeling better. Last night I slipped as I ran to the front of the squash court and went straight into the front wall at full speed using my head and knee as a brake. My eye has been patched up, but is rather black and my knee has come to the conclusion that bending is beyond its capabilities for the time being. As for my back, well thats just come out in sympathy. So, lets see what a few hours rest brings!!

Its been a while

2010-05-11T10:11:00.003+01:00

Hello again, just a quick note to say I will be heading off for a brief sojourn in Angola during June 2010. Hopefully interweb access there will allow me to update you on life in Luanda.

a day in the life

2008-10-22T12:51:00.001+01:00

The rains are here in full force now and the temperature has dropped a little more. All is cooler and wet, wet, wet.
So I thought I would explain how my average sort of day goes.
I get up at 6 and have a cool shower. Today, for the first time since I have been here I have put a belt on my trousers, tucked my shirt in and done the belt up. Up until now it has been too hot to have my shirt tucked in or my trousers tight and they have simply been hanging on my hips.

Before I leave I collect the pots from the guards. The system works like this, the maid cooks way too much food every day and leaves it for me in little pots on the dining room table. It is very much like an Indian restaurant with 3 or 4 small pots of side dishes, a pot of rice and a larger pot for the main course. I usually eat about a third of all this and then give the pots to the guards which they feast on overnight. It works well, the maid cooks too much, I eat some, the guards finish it and the maid thinks I have eaten it all, so everyone is happy. As I leave the house it is raining so one of the guards holds an umbrella above my head as I walk out to my Land Rover. The guards here are nothing like those in Kabul. No flak jackets or machine guns, just a couple of senior gentlemen in smart uniforms and no weapons (and no shoes).

We walk out to the LR and then I head off. I am getting to know the road and the people I pass every day. No need for different times or different routes, just a plain, simple drive to the office. So, many of the faces smile back and we wave at each other. The traffic is all pedestrians and bicycles, I never see another car at this time of day. The first junction is a checkpoint, so I slow down, smile at the soldiers and they wave me through. The next crossroads is the ICRC. Another 3 minutes and my commute is over. The roads are clear, the rain is pouring, the tree lined verges are deep in water as there is no drainage, except the fine soil itself which seems to recover very quickly. Everything is turning very green and lush and equatorial.

I arrive at the office and another guard will protect me from the downpour with his umbrella as I cross the sandy/muddy compound to the office.
The office is an old colonial style building at the edge of the compound, with the workshops and stores around 100yards away at the far end of the compound.
Today, I have to address the deminers and all 350 are assembled military style in the midst of the compound in rows awaiting my words.

Once I have finished they pack up their tools and equipment into the Land Rovers and trucks and head off out to the minefields.

Meanwhile I have a Finance meeting to discuss how the finances of the operation are handled. Later this morning I will be taking a trip to the Island of Kuyts to look at some minefields there. Kuyts is heavily restricted and requires a special pass to be able to traverse the causeway that takes us there. It is strange today as the sky is very overcast, there is a cool breeze blowing and the sea is dark grey, reflecting the mood of the weather. With light waves being whipped up by the wind and the dark skies I could be looking at the Kent coast, not the Indian Ocean just north of the equator.

The islands around Jaffna are particularly heavily patrolled by the Army and Navy and are even more badly damaged as they have been the scene of much fighting and used as routes to get to and from Jaffna. The population of Kuyts is less than a quarter of the pre-war population and it shows. However, interestingly although the houses are nearly all empty and derelict, they are big and were once very grand. This area apparently was the home of many of the top Sri Lankan businessmen. However, wealth brings the privilege of choice and they no longer choose to live in such a dangerous place.

After my visit to Kuyts, it is time to go mine collecting and today there is one to be collected from a minefield South of Jaffna. We head out again in the Land Rover for the minefield where we pick up the mine and bring it back for disposal.
So, back to the paperwork and then head home for an earlier night. I was woken by a lot of commotion this morning around 5am and a lot of mortars being fired. It turns out the port to the North of here was attacked by the Tigers and that was the retaliatory fire. Hopefully that won't be repeated.

life in jaffna

2008-10-21T02:53:00.002+01:00

Living in Jaffna takes a little getting used to and everyday communications with the outside world is one of those 'getting used to' points.
There are the mobile phones that only work on few, random occasions, even when they claim to have a full signal. It is not about where you are, the way you are facing, whether you happen to be next to a mast, it is just random. Then there is the internet connection. There is no broadband so it is all on dial up. Sometimes it runs 'not too bad', other days you can have a whole day where even an email will not leave the environs of your computer. So, it gets pretty frustrating when you want to connect to the outside world. But in the overall scheme of things these are really only frustrations.

The rains have finally come and we get a torrential downpour at least once every day now, often at night. This leaves the air clear and crisp for a short while, but when the clouds clear and the sun comes back out the air becomes pretty hot and humid. In fact, there is this rather uncomfortable feeling all day of your skin being not quite dry and just, oh so slightly clammy. As if you ran for the bus and now you have a light layer of sweat all over - but it will not clear. All day long your clothes are just wet enough to stick to you. The thought of a cool shower when you get home looms larger and larger in your mind and by the time you leave work is almost an obsession. Showers here are pretty much like I have experienced in other parts of Sri Lanka. They are a big tank on the roof and this feeds straight through a tap to a big shower head that gives a lovely wide and full spray. There is no heating for the water, just the sunshine, so in the evening you get a warm shower and in the morning a cold shower. Either way it is very welcome.

Jaffna is a very unusual place. It is very hot, lots of palms trees and it is a golden sand peninsular. Every direction is coastline and lagoons and yet – there is nowhere you can go in the water. The coastline is all a High Security Zone, you literally cannot go to the beach or enter the water. There is only one beach accessible and that is right up at the North of the islands and you need special permission from the Army to go there, so forget going for a swim!!

Yesterday, I took the day off and went on a tour of Jaffna Town. I drove down to the town centre and then went for a walk about. The first thing you notice is the quiet. Most people are on foot, usually bare footed or with flip flops, on bicycles (every one has the same 1950's upright bike) and the odd small motorbike laden down with a family. Unbrellas are very popular for keeping off the rain and sun and it is very normal to see people cycling along holding an umbrella above themselves.

There are very few cars, so the traffic is very light and almost silent. The only cars I have seen (other than our Land Rovers and NGO vehicles) are old 1950's Austins and Morris'. I have seen an Austin Cambridge, Morris Oxford and an Austin A40. So, Jaffna town is quiet from traffic.

All around though, is the devastation from the wars of 1990 and 1995 is very bad. It is amazing how much damage has been done to the centre of Jaffna and how little has been repaired. Everywhere there are damaged and blown up houses, the walls littered with bullet holes and other walls & roofs missing.

Right in the heart of Jaffna is the Clock Tower. This, I read in the guide book, was renovated with money presented from the British people in 1998 and opened by HRH Prince Charles – for the people of Jaffna. However, the Army and Police have declared this an HSZ and all approaches are blocked off with Earth Bunds (banks), razor wire and guard posts.

But this is the clock tower that was renovated by the British people – with MY money. So I walk up to the barrier, through the gap and continue to walk, smiling, towards the guard post. The soldiers are somewhat mystified and rather surprised by this. I get to the window and explain I would like to go and visit the clock tower. The soldiers are a little surprised and rather bemused by this, but bureaucracy wins through. I offer them my ID, they write it in their book, give me a receipt for my camera and then they let me through. This whole area is weird with many plain clothes men and women wandering around, all armed with machine guns. As well as the soldiers and police.

I get half way to the clock tower and am called into a building labelled 'Immigration Centre', where again, I am asked what I am doing and again I tell them I wish to look at the Clock Tower opened by Prince Charles and again they are bemused, but friendly and ultimately helpful. Finally I am there and sure enough there is a plaque commemorating Prince Charles's re-opening of the Tower . Unfortunately, they have my camera, so there will be no photo, I am afraid. I make my way back, get my camera and leave.

As the sun goes down and the air cools a little, we are off to the ICRC house where, I am told, they have a badminton court.

The court is outdoor, a square of dirt with a net and ropes stretched across the ground for court markings.

We are surrounded by trees and to either side is a struggling 100w light bulb to act as floodlights. Near the equator darkness falls quickly and the gloom soon engulfs the court, but not our spirits. It is great to be able to play a game and we all put in some effort – between gulping bottles of water. The trees that surround us fill up with crows cawing loudly. Above them large bats are swooping and congregating, preparing to head off into the night. The scene is quite spectacular to both sight and sound and amongst all this the shuttlecock continues to fly back and forth in the semi-darkness.

We play for an hour or so, and then off home. It is only 7pm, but I am tired and ready for bed.

and so to Jaffna

2008-10-15T15:36:00.002+01:00

Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote. It has been an interesting, fraught, incredibly tiring and ill few days. Coupled with that the frustration of the telephone system and internet connections, here in Jaffna, have created an atmosphere of despair. But things are getting better now and I am on the mend.

So let me tell you what has been happening since I left Colombo. I am now in Jaffna. This is a peninsular that sits at the very Northern tip of Sri Lanka. It is made up of islands and lagoons. Although it is controlled by the Government it is cut off from the rest of Sri Lanka by the land held by the Tamil Tigers. So all supplies come either by sea or air. It is the heart of the Tamil culture on Sri Lanka and is very Tamil. Hence the Governement keeps a very tight grip on it, the people and anything that gets in or out.

I was up at 3.45am on Friday to go to the airport to get the flight North. Well, I say airport, actually a military airfield with much security, but smiley, pleasant soldiers who actually were not at all threatening. The first thing I noticed was the fact that every soldier did not even want payment to get out of your way (which is pretty much the norm at Kabul Airport). Instead they smile and try to assist. Now I was due to get the 7.30 flight to Jaffna. However, as a Johnny foreigner in these parts I needed special permission to go to Jaffna. So we get a letter from the Ministry of Nation Building saying they recommend me as a decent sort of chap and they send this to the Ministry of Defence. They then have their say and finally a letter is passed to the air force giving them permission to let me into their airfield.
OK, so far so good, except we get to the airfield at 4.30am and there is no paperwork there and the offices will not be open till 8!

So we wait and wait. The 7.30 flight leaves, and we wait. Finally the nice man at the gate puts through a call at 8, they fax him the permission and I am allowed through.

The next flight is at 11.45, so we head for the terminal on a bus and get to the check in area. Now this is all pretty standard except there is a list of items you are not allowed to take to Jaffna and this includes AA batteries, like in the myriad of small portable electrical devices we carry around these days. But, my man in Jaffna needs batteries.

So, I have to secrete them in my laptop bag and when it is my turn to empty the bag for the nice soldier so he can go through it all, I have to make sure he doesn't quite see the pocket they are hidden in. All goes well, and we head for the plane, I am now a smuggler!!!

The flight is uneventful, just one hour and we arrive at the Jaffna military airport. Now the next bit is just a touch funny. We get off the plane and are herded into a bus with blacked out windows. This is to ensure we cannot see anything inside this High Security Zone. The bus drives for around 15 minutes and eventually we park up and get out. From behind a high dirt bank, I can see the tail fin of our plane about 50 yards away. Where we have been driving for the last 15 minutes no-one seems to know. Then it is time to be interviewed, why are you in Jaffna, what are you doing etc. until the quiz master is happy and you go out and get into, yes you have guessed it, a blacked out coach. Not forgetting it is unbearably hot all this time, and of course, I have never sdone this befroe, so you simply follow the crowd and do what they do. WHen they stop, I stop, when they proceed, I proceed. The next coach trip is a good 20-25 minutes through the High Security Zone until we get to the outskirts. Here we all meet our local contacts, and they return our cases. Did I tell you they also take all mobile phones and cameras away from you before the flight and return them at this point.

What is a High Security Zone, I hear you ask. Well, Jaffna is only about 20 miles from the front line of the war between the Tamil Tigers and the Sri Lankan Army which is now reaching a critical phase. In fact, Jaffna was a Tiger stronghold up until 1995 and held by them. Some of the Jaffna peninsula is still held by the Tigers, hence the proximity of the front line. So the fighting in Jaffna has been fierce and recent, and the signs of this are everywhere with building blown up and destroyed, full of shell holes etc. At night we can hear the artillery guns firing from Jaffna at the Tamil Tigers Front Line.

The Army created HSZ's around their installations all over Jaffna, by simply removing the people who lived there, destroying the houses and mining the area to make it a huge buffer between them and any attackers. Probably half the land in Jaffna is taken up by HSZ's and minefields where the inhabitants can no longer go.

Think about that, half the area in your locality simply swallowed up by the Army and minefields laid. You DO NOT enter these areas.

So, I have arrived, my man is there to meet and greet me and we head back to the house and office.

Jaffna, is quite beautiful and has everything an idyllic paradise should have. It is hot (OK, too hot to work), smiling friendly people, palms and coconut trees, beautiful lagoons - and a war with Army checkpoints at every junction and a 9pm curfew. I will tell you about living here soon.

I had a friend, but now he is dead

2008-10-09T13:39:00.003+01:00

Yesterday evening, I needed to get out the mosquito scaring stuff that you plug in overnight to keep the little critters away. This was in my big bag which I had left on the floor of my bedroom. So I went to the bag and started rummaging around. Imagine my surprise when something jumped out of the bag, hit my forehead and fell on the floor. I am not sure which of us was most surprised. Me or the large brown cockroach standing on the floor looking up at me. Well, I sort of imagine that is what it was doing for a stunned second. We eyed each other up and then he/she/it (not sure about the biology of the cockroach species) and certainly had no time to establish its sex, then it made a run fr the cupboard and disappeared around the back. I got a shoe and pursued it, pulling the cupboard away from the wall. Again it mad a dash for it and headed off under the bed.

At this point I decided not to chase it and left it be. After all, I can kill it, but it can't kill me.

So last night it spent the hours of slumber under the bed. I know this because this morning just after I got up, as I came out the shower it got a bit reckless and emerged from under the same bed and made a run for the door. Now, I will never know if it waited for me to come out of the shower cause it felt a bit cocky(roach) and thought it could take me on, whether it was just plain stupid or even simply an unlucky cockroach. I grabbed for a shoe, and chased it across the room. It made for a shaded corner, but there was no furniture, no crack, no pile of clothes (believe me I picked everything up and put it on top of the cupboard) nowhere to hide. I had it trapped and, I confess dear reader. I whacked it over the head with my shoe. scooped it up on a piece of paper while it was dazed and flushed it down the loo.

You see, I can be ruthless and cruel, actually I feel a bit mean. It can't help being ugly and in the end it could never harm me. But now it is gone from here, and so shall I be tomorrow. I get picked up at 4am and head off to the airport for my flight to Jaffna.

Not sure about communications from there, but I will try to write whenever possible.

There a whole blog without one mention of this hot and steamy weather.

HSBC, how can I help you?

2008-10-08T13:37:00.001+01:00

It is 2.30pm and it is sweltering here. I really am sorry to complain about the heat to you as you suffer the British autumnal rain and cold. If I was sitting on a beach I would be very happy, but I am sitting at a desk, in shirt and trousers, the fan above me is going full tilt and I have a menagerie of objects holding down the various pieces of paper on my desk, stopping them from blowing away. As soon as I pick up an object, the papers fly across the table to the floor, which is just a tad annoying. If I put my hand or forearm on a piece of paper it immediately sticks to me and becomes damp, so I can no longer write on it. So here I am, sat at a nice big desk, the windows wide open, the fan on full pelt, my shirt and trousers stuck to me, papers flapping on the desk, a sheet of A4 stuck to my forearms try to write on another piece before it flies out the window and you are their in the UK thinking, lucky bugger, he's in Sri Lanka!

I have left the aircon on in my bedroom and sneak off there for a couple of minutes every now and then, just to escape the heat, but relief is very temporary.

I have just had confirmation that the military will allow me to fly to Jaffna on Friday, so that is good. There is another ex-pat up there and hopefully we will be able to go and visit some minefields and get out and about.

But that is not the subject of today's epistle.

I went for a brief walk yesteday evening and found a very large, modern building at the end of the road with HSBC written on the side. So, I asked a few questions this morning and lo, it is an international call centre. So, if you are an HSBC customer and you phone the bank to find yourself talking to someone called “Jimmy” or "Tracy" with a dodgy English/Indian type accent with a lot of chatter going on in the background, just think – I could be just round the corner. So if you have any messages you wish delivered by hand please feel free to send them in to Laneender and I will do my best to pass them on, person to person - just like in the good old days!

starting a new job

2008-10-07T15:05:00.005+01:00

You know when you start a new job, you can be a little apprehensive. You have met the people, had the interview, and today is the big day when you head into the unknown.

(Yes, I know the piccie does not seem to be related, but stick with me, I digress but get there in the end).

Well that was how I felt as those immortal words "cabin crew, cabin doors to manual, take your positions for landing" rang out over the speaker system. Curiously, I do not think much about the job until I hear those words and the plane begins to descend into the airport.

Will I get through passport control? will someone be there to pick me up? what will the office be like? what will the people be like? will I get fed? will I have a decent room an somewhere to shower/wash? will anyone provide breakfast? is it hot? is there an aircon in the office or the bedroom? what other creatures will share my space? will there be toilet paper? can I get out and about in the evening? what will the work be like? will I be able to contact home? what will be expected of me? and so they begin to rattle around my brain.

Well it turns out all is well. I think I know what I am doing, everyone seems very friendly, I got no dinner yesterday after all, but today I have and it was fantastic. In fact I was so impressed I took a photo and attached it above. As you can see, I have apple juice, I have a samosa on the blue plate, curry and sauces in the bowls and last, but no means least, the dosa wrapped in palm leaves. Don't they just look the business! It all tasted as good as it looks so I am a happy bunny.

BUT, for those of you in a wet and rainy UK let me tell you it is hot, hot, hot here. I am sweating all over and my shirt and trousers are both damp from sweat. All the time my skin is shining and it is really important to keep drinking water, water, water. You try to sit and work by the fan, but it simply blows all your work away, so a compromise has to be reached between the amount of sweating you do and the amount of paper you want to remain on your desk!!

Everyone has gone home and I have the house/office to myself. I went for a short stroll this evening up to the main road and couldn't help noticing what look like rain clouds. As I sat down to eat my dinner there was a hammering at the front door like a demented Tasmanian Devil had smelt the food and wanted some of the action. At the same time the hammering was at the window, and the back door and the roof. Yes, my friends this is rain - monsoon style. It is coming down by the bucket load, no make that a wheelie bin load, OK by the skip load. Poked my head out the door for a little refreshing and went and sat back down.

Oh well, that will do for now, am going to have a cold shower and set the aircon for night mode, not too hot, not too cold, not too fast, not too slow. Took me a few attempts last night to get it right, but now I have my settings nothing will stop me sleeping tonight - I hope!

there and back again

2008-10-06T13:57:00.005+01:00

Well, this blogging lark started in Colombo, Sri Lanka and here I am again. Back at the beginning.

Had a fairly uneventful flight from London to Colombo. 10 hours overnight starting at 9.30pm London time. The plane was very empty and there were plenty of 4 seats across the middle all totally unused. So, as soon as the seat belt sign went off, I made my way over from my window seat to a set of middle sets to make myself comfortable laying across the four of them to get a good nights sleep. Up went the first armrest and then the middle arm rest, hang on, it's stuck. Or is it. No, it is locked. The middle arm rests don't go up on this plane, meaning that across my nice 4 seat bed, right smack in the middle, in the most awkward place you could imagine is a double arm rest. So somehow to try to sleep I have to squeeze my body in one half of the seats, loop my legs over the armrests and then try to sleep with my head jammed up against the end armrest. Of course, I only got a couple of hours sleep and am completely cream crackered this evening. As we came in to land I am looking out of the window at a magnificent sight of this beautiful and green island below me. What a shame it has such a sad history in recent times and it has not developed into the paradise it should be. As war rages in the North and people are dying, disappearing, being displaced from family and home. the sun shines down on the beautiful, golden ,sunkissed sandy beaches that surround the inland verdant green woodland and jungles.

The island is so lush with trees and greenery everywhere. No Kabul dust bowl here, just nature in its beautifel finery.

The office here is a big house to the East of Colombo with the upstairs being the ex-pat living quarters. Although there are no aircons downstairs (and it was very hot today) thankfully there is an aircon in my bedroom. The house is now empty as everyone has gone home so I have showered, and am awaiting the arrival of Chilli vegetables from a local restaurant. I really am too tired to go out and I have a lot of notes to catch up on this evening. Have just been to the kitchen to get a cold drink, as I turned on the light a rather startled Gecko ran up the wall and out of sight behind the cupboard.

At least I am not alone!!

the return of the blogger

2008-10-01T23:13:00.001+01:00

Hello again, dear reader,

I am returning to Sri Lanka on Monday for three weeks in Colombo and Jaffna. Hope to be able to keep you updated once I am there.

a good decision

2008-04-27T11:40:00.005+01:00

Hello again. Not much has happened recently, so not much to report on.

Today is a national holiday in Afghanistan as it is "Islamic Revolution" day. A day that celebrates the Communists fall in Kabul to the advancing Mujahadeen.
There was to be a large military parade in the centre of Kabul today to celebrate this. I thought it would be an interesting event to witness and wanted to go.
However, speaking to Kabulis we can find no-one interested in escorting us. Many are not interested, many are rather ambivelant to the actual value of celebrating a day that led to the ruinous civil war and the rise of the Taleban and many simply think it is a prime Taleban target and will stay as far away as possible.
This morning we mulled this over and decided the security issues were too risky. It could be a Taleban attack, it could be the crowd getting excited about the defeat of the Russians and deciding any European would be a good target - whatever, we went to the Kabul Coffee House for a cup of coffee instead.
As we sit around chatting a phone rings, it is one of our senior Afghans asking if we are at the parade as it has been a Taleban target. At the next table another phone rings and then another. Soon the whole place is buzzing with rumour.
We decide it would be a good idea to get straight back to the house and remain there for the rest of the day. As it turns out, we walk back through the streets of Kabul, all this area is quiet and just another day. When we get back we hungrily work our way through BBC, Al-Jazeera and CNN news. No-one has too many details but it appears 1 dead and 11 wounded is the tally. In terms of injuries and death, not bad. In terms of credibility the Government of President Karzai has been dealt another very deadly blow. The Taleban are able to attack him in his stronghold in Kabul surrounded by his own military and police.
The foreign forces have been told they have to leave Kabul by August this year, and the Afghan Army and Police force will take over the security of the capital. They have a lot to learn in a few, short months.
Finally, your Kabul correspondent is leaving Kabul for the last time on Thursday to fly to India for a well earned break and then home. This may be the last missive for now, so thanks for reading, thanks for the comments, they are important to me. Thanks for being there. I hope I have entertained and educated a little and you feel you know this far off place, that appears in all the bad news sections, just a little better than you did. It has many bad points, many good points, the attitudes I will never really understand (or accept), but we all deserve a good chance in life and so many here are dealt a pretty poor hand.
Landmines are bad, make no mistake about that. They silently sit under the ground waiting for anyone, no distinction between age, race, creed. Then they kill or maim. They are now banned in many countries and Inshallah countries like Afghanistan can hope that one day they will be rid of this menace. A day when adults and children will be able to walk on the very earth beneath their feet, safe in the knowledge they will not be another victim.

a day out in the country

2008-04-13T11:32:00.003+01:00

In Afghanistan there are areas where the Government holds little or no sway. Some of these areas are hostile, like Helmand and Kandahar. Some are not hostile; but they are controlled by their own people and have their own laws. One such place is the Panjshir Valley just North East of Kabul. It is controlled by the Governor of Panjshir and his own militia. Anyone entering the Panjshir needs the agreement of the Governor; otherwise the likely outcome is kidnapping or murder.

To appreciate today’s story, first I will give a brief history lesson, so please bear with me.

On the 9th September 2001, an assassination took place in Afghanistan. News did not get to the outside world until the 10th September. If you look at a newspaper printed on the morning of September 11th you will see this was about to become a big story. However a bigger news story of world-changing events later that day diverted all attention. These two events were inextricably linked though, if only that the same organisation carried out both. The man assassinated was General Ahmad Shah Massoud. He was born and raised in the Panjshir Valley and became its Governor. He came to prominence as a leader of the Mujahadin fighting the Soviet forces. The Soviets openly admitted he was the toughest of their adversaries in Afghanistan.

I am told the Soviet tanks rolled up the Panjshir valley in all out assault, supported by fighter planes and helicopter gunship’s on eight separate occasions, and each time they were repelled. The Panjshir was never taken by the Soviets and Massoud was seen as a hero.

After the Soviets left he was Defence Secretary in the short-lived Government which then fell to the Taliban. Again he retreated to his homeland valley and defended the Panjshir from the Taliban, who also failed to enter.

On 9th September 2001, two Al Qaeda suicide bombers posing as journalists met him in Northern Afghanistan. They carried a bomb hidden in a video camera. He died from the injuries caused by this bomb. It is reputed that Al Qaeda murdered Massoud (who was a constant threat to the Taliban) to gain favour with them knowing that in a few days the USA would be demanding the Taliban hand over Osama Bin Laden and his followers (which history tells us, they did not).

Due to his resistance to the Soviets and the Taliban he is now officially the “Hero of Afghanistan” and his picture is on hoardings all over Kabul, a central circle is named after him and his picture is also openly displayed in the windows of many vehicles. Although the true depth of his popularity amongst all Afghans is somewhat questionable.

This brings us to the purpose of this history lesson.

Last week, I accompanied a colleague into the Panjshir Valley to visit the tomb of General Massoud. We gained permission from the Governor through my colleagues contacts and he was allowed to take a Horaji in, provided we took no armed guards and travelled in a standard vehicle with no armour to visit the tomb and do not go beyond this point.

As we approached the Panjshir Valley we came to a checkpoint operated by the Governors militia. This was the limit of the Afghan Government and Foreign forces jurisdiction. From here we were in the hands of the Governor and his men. We were allowed to pass and headed into the valley. The scenery was breathtakingly dramatic. The entrance to the Valley is a gorge that is literally a one track road and river wide; with sheer cliffs either side. So narrow is the entrance that the rock face is cut back where the roads clings to the side. The road literally sits between the solid rock and the river with the rock overhanging. It is easy to see how this valley was defended against the might of the Soviet Army and how the General and his successors have been able to maintain autonomy. Even the might of the ISAF coalition forces would struggle to enter without permission.

As you wind your way up the valley the scenery becomes one of a beautiful wide, flat and green landscape. Either side of the valley floor with the fast flowing, shallow, cold, mountain fed river are towering, sheer rock faces that stretch up to their snow capped peaks, hundreds of feet above. The valley is fertile and appears to be capable of comfortably sustaining itself.

As you enter there are numerous small, dilapidated mud dwellings across the river that are now abandoned. During the Taliban era these houses were built by refugees (IDPs) fleeing the Taliban as the Panjshir Valley became a safe and impregnable centre of resistance.

The further up the valley you go the wider it becomes and small villages appear. The river is central to the valley and its life with a complex network of concrete and mud culverts channelling the fresh mountain water onto the lush fields.

Across the river are a number of footbridges enabling both banks to be inhabited with the typical small mud brick houses and to the land to be cultivated.

For the first mile or two of the valley the banks of the river and the fields around are testament to the Soviet tanks that tried to invade. Old wrecks of troop carriers and tanks litter the landscape, some even in the river itself. Rusty hulks sit in silence, inactive, stripped of anything that can be removed and sold complete or as scrap.

We eventually reach the tomb of Massoud which is a large and unfinished affair. It is a shame but the scale of the tomb was too grand and the money ran out whilst still only a third finished. Although officially the “Hero of Afghanistan” the Government refuses to cover the cost of completing the tomb and it shall remain unfinished until a benefactor is found.

However, we talk to the guard and he allows us entry to the tomb and, rather surprisingly, allows an Infidel to go inside where the grave itself is. This is a large concrete room below the tomb, decorated simply with two carpets hung on opposite walls depicting the Nabawy mosque in Medina and the grave in the centre, draped in the flag of Afghanistan, a vase of flowers and headstone of black marble.

I sign the visitor’s book and look through the pages; only two other Westerners appear in the book, so this is truly a rare privilege and honour.

Once we have finished we get back into the car and head back out from the valley. On the way we stop at a restaurant and have lunch of rice and salad (just for a change), sat by the river with the rushing sound of the water tumbling over the rocks and boulders. (Don’t ask about the toilet!).
As we leave the Panjshir I realise that in all the time we have been there we have not seen either a policeman or a soldier. If anything, it appears to be more peaceful than in Kabul. It has been a truly memorable and exciting experience, I wonder how it would have been if we had not cleared our little journey with the Governor?

Its party night!!!

2008-04-11T10:58:00.004+01:00

It is Thursday evening in Kabul and tomorrow is Friday. The only day of the week most of us can have a lie-in. So Thursday evening is the main evening for ex-Pats to go out on the town. Of course, when the town is Kabul, the choices are somewhat limited. So, we wander round the corner to the bar in the next street, go through all the security gates, searches and metal detectors and find a seat at the bar. The bar is staffed by Afghans with strict rules that alcohol can only be sold to Horaji's. The staff are always pleasant and, there being so few bars, seem to know everyone in their clientèle. Waiters also hover dressed in white shirts, ties and black waistcoat and trousers. The atmosphere is relaxed and convivial, just as any bar may be in the West on a Friday evening.

It has been a cold and wet day. Most people are wearing jumpers, the men in combat trousers and jeans, the women in trousers, jeans and the odd ankle-length skirt, scarves draped carelessly around their shoulders, waiting to be put on as they leave the confines of the bar. The ages range from early twenties to your narrator (who invariably seems to be the oldest around). Most people my age are too senior in their organisations to hang around in bars, but a few of us old nobodies do exist. Nearly everyone smokes and the air in the room is thick. All around are conversations in many and varied languages and accents. Of course, English dominates (with British, South African, Australian and American accents) but, as I go to the bar for a round of drinks, I pick up others in French, German and, what I suspect is, Albanian. Most of the people here that look as big and scary as these guys are generally Albanians or Kosovars!! Any conversations between different nationalities use English as the common tongue. The people come from all over the globe, Europeans, Orientals, Africans, Americans, Asians and Antipodeans. they are all here and represented to varying degrees.

All the people are in small “work groups” of about 5 or 6. As new people come in there is much greeting and kissing of cheeks, except for us. We are a group of three men who, to all intents and purposes come from a completely different planet, but then we have a reputation of being dull, miserable and unfriendly and basically, have no friends!!

Although it is the busiest night of the week the bar is barely half full as many Embassies, Govt. Departments etc. nd NGOs, still do not allow their staff to frequent such places since the Serena attack.

We order our drinks and spend the evening chatting, the crowd begins to swell and for half an hour it is almost busy and then; the crowd begin to leave. Groups of 4 or 5 start to go, one after the other and a rumour begins to spread around the room. People are animated and excited something is up in town and we have to know what it is. I wander to the bar and overhear a conversation of a party tonight in a UN guest house.

A party on a Thursday night is the ultimate goal for the ex-Pat community and a party in a UN guest house means there will be music, free drinks and a late night. All we need to know is which guest house and where. I stand at the bar and piece the story together, I get the street name and find out there is a guest list and access is strictly by invitation. Now, at this point you may feel a little downhearted the phrases “guest list” and “strictly by invitation” may put you off, but this is just a ploy. The guest list at the gate is controlled by the guards who speak little English and definitely do not read and write English. We have been told by “those in the know”, look at the guest list like you are searching for your name, pick a name and sign next to it and walk in boldly. Heck, its worth a try, surely.

We call up our driver and he arrives at 11.30pm to take us to the street the party is in. OK, we don't have the exact address, but when we get to the street there will be a group of Land Cruisers around the gates to the party and we can walk up boldly.

Only two of us go and we sit in the back of the car chatting excitedly like a couple of schoolboys about the gatecrash an “adults” party and wondering whether we can pull it off!!

As predicted we get to the gate and are presented with a guest list. Now, I have been told I bear a passing resemblance to the BBC correspondent in Kabul – Alistair Leithhead, so when I see his name on the list and no signature, I can't resist it and sign next to it. “Tonight Matthew I am Alistair Leithhead”. There is some irony to this which I shall explain later.

We walk boldly in and head for the bar. The drink is flowing freely, the music is LOUD and disco. The house and gardens are HUGE, typically UN. A barbecue has been lit and people stand outside around it, with many more inside. People are laughing, dancing, drinking and having a great time.

Everywhere is the strong feeling of “release”. People who have been cooped up behind walls and guarded in compounds and guest houses for months and are only allowed out with Close Protection Guards have found a safe place to go. (It is generally felt the safest place to 'go out' is a party as these are not at fixed locations and so are unlikely to be attacked by the bearded ones, as by the time they know it is happening, we are gone).

As the evening progresses the music shifts from Abba and Michael Jackson to 'garage' and 'house' and the dancing becomes stranger (to these old eyes anyway, but I gamely give it my best shot).

We finally call our driver at 3.00am and leave at 3.30am as the party begins to wind down and the beer runs out. The downstairs of the house is pretty well trashed. Cans, bottles, spilt drinks, cigarette ends everywhere littering the floors and furniture and as for the state of the toilets. Well, maybe they have been visited by drunk schoolboys who had lost their sense of direction (if you get my drift).

Of course we come back to a house with no electricity and running water so the final events of the evening are conducted by torchlight and with shiny clean teeth I head back to my bed.

And that is our Thursday evening story, oh yes, I nearly forgot. I managed to keep up a conversation with a Swedish woman for 15 minutes who thought I was Alistair Leithhead and was telling me how much she had enjoyed lunch with me the previous Friday afternoon in the Kabul Coffee House. In the end I had to come clean and tell her I was not he. Fortunately, she found it funny and then, I think she went looking for the genuine article. But maybe he could not get in, after all I was already inside and this one must be an imposter!!!!

Chocolate fountains

2008-04-10T08:17:00.007+01:00

It has been raining for 4 days here in Kabul and the city is transformed. So we have good news and bad news. The good news being the dust is now settled with the constant wet; however, this brings problems of its own.
As you know many of the roads in Kabul are not tarmaced and the soil is extremely fine. This has led to the rain turning the streets in a filthy mud bath. There is no vegetation on the soil so it is not possible to walk on the grass, just mud.
If you have ever dipped a marshmallow in a chocolate fountain you will understand completely the colour, texture and consistency (unfortunately not the taste) of the mud that is now ankle deep on the streets of Kabul.
It also has the ability to stick like glue, so everything is now coated in the mud. Every vehicle is plastered, every person is coated from the ankles down and every dog is now a fluffy ball of sticky brown goo.
It also is extremely slippery and difficult to walk or drive on. All along the dirt verges there are abandoned cars and lorries where people parked one evening in the dry and have not been able to move it since, as the mud has got thicker, deeper and ever more slippery.
The sight of wheels spinning and a huge spray of mud being thrown into the air is commonplace as the lorries struggle to get a grip on the verge and get back onto the road.
The sight of women with limited vision in their burkha’s trying to pick a route down the street through the mud and puddles, holding the hem of their burkha above the mud in a pair of heeled shoes or plastic sandals is tragically comical. Their plight is made worse by the burkha that does not let them see the ground beneath their feet and they constantly end up walking into the deeper and wetter sections.
Small children are out getting the bread for the family in brightly coloured trousers that simply are brown from the knees down with muddy brown toes sticking out from their plastic sandals.
Unfortunately a change of footwear for each season is beyond the pocket of most Afghans and the same sandals or shoes that got them through the bitter winter and the hot summer will now get them through the wet and mud of Spring.
So we are now watching the weather forecast for the sunshine that will soon follow and dry up the ground very quickly, leaving us with the deep ruts and puddle holes to negotiate through.
However, the softening of the ground is welcome for the demining effort.
As you can imagine, when you are digging for a landmine by hand, digging soft ground is far preferable to hacking away at hard baked earth, when it is easier to set it off and cause very serious damage to yourself. The ability to gently scrape away the soil is a real bonus for a deminer. So, he may be wet, he may be covered in mud, but he is much safer and in the end that is so much more important. In fact, between the frozen ground of Winter and the hard baked ground of Summer, this wet period is the safest and easiest for the deminer in the field.

Men in Black

2008-03-28T12:55:00.005Z

This has been a bit of a worrying week here in the Demining community in 'Stan. On Monday a convoy of three demining vehicles was stopped by two men on a motorbike who proceeded to strafe the vehicles with machine guns killing seven and putting another five critically injured in hospital. Just as this news was being digested on Tuesday, I was at a meeting in the UN when a call came in with news of another demining vehicle having been attacked (again, in the supposedly quiet North of Afghanistan) with both occupants also being killed. The UN immediately called a halt to all demining operations in the North and various meetings were held to discuss the way forward. In the meantime our friends (the bearded ones, the men in black) issued a statement Tuesday afternoon saying they condemn these killings and that demining should be allowed to continue freely as this is an important and worthy operation for the people of Afghanistan. Hopefully, that has put an end to it and the attacks will cease, but we have ideas about what was going on and almost certainly these attacks were never sanctioned by the Taleban and are probably not Taleban or Al-Qaeda related, anyway.

However, that does not stop us being just a bit nervous and jumpy and I hope today's story will bring a smile to your faces as I tell a tale of derring-do that makes me smile now I am back in the comparitive safety of the house. Today is our Friday holiday day and I had decided it would be a good idea to go to Qagar. This is a dam on the outskirts of Kabul that has created a lake where the people of Kabul go to relax. A chance to see Afghans in their natural habitat and to be part of the Afghan way of life for a brief period. A chance to actually meet real people and to relax with them and enjoy their company. Three of us and an armed guard and driver headed off this lunchtime. We got there and sure enough it did not disappoint. The lake is quite large (a little on the dirty side) and surrounded by the paraphernalia of the seaside (Afghanistan is landlocked so this is quite a unique place). There were families there, some boys swimming in the water (with bare tops, but long trousers) people playing volleyball on the "beach" (the beach being dirt rather than sand), people driving their cars down into the water to wash them, kite flying, some funfair type stalls and some "beach huts". Mothers and daughters dressed in brightly coloured reds, yellows and all the brightest colours of the rainbow were walking round with groups of small children, men, wearing their traditional Shalwar Kameez were standing/squatting in groups, playing volleyball and chatting while groups of small boys played their own games.

We found a young lad on the "beach" who had a quoits game, you know the type, throw the hoops and try to get them to land round the prize. We had half a dozen goes (10Afs per go) and actually won once, a massive 50Afs which we reinvested in more rings and, like all true gamblers, ended up losing it all. We bought a volleyball from the ball seller and played volleyball with the local boys and generally were getting along fine, lots of people coming over to say hello and make us welcome.

After that we wandered over to the back of the area where there was a few stalls and sat on the grass bank to watch the swinging boat which seems to be at every funfair in the world, although this one had some particularly interesting (not) safety features!! (You can see it in the background in front of the "men in black"). While we were sitting there the two gentlemen in the picture above came over and walked past us having a good look as they went. As they turned their backs, they started a conversation which resulted in one of them getting out his phone and starting a call. As he walked off the other stayed put by us. We looked at each other and decided it was time to go, just as our guard agitatedly came over to us and said "Go". We begun to scramble back down the bank and headed towards the car park, I threw the volleyball to a couple of young begging boys whose faces lit up like Christmas had come early, one of our "men in black" followed us down the slope. By the time we got to the car park we were all running for the car and dived in as our guard covered our backs. We headed out of there at a sharp pace. As soon as we got to a clear bit of road we stopped, got out the car, checked the underside and then headed back home.

Maybe something, more likely nothing, but better safe than sorry. Looking back it was almost certainly nothing and just some typically inquisitive people who happened to be wearing black turbans. Whatever, it added a little excitement to our "day out" and at least will give us something to talk about.

This evening we have news that another demining convoy has been attacked in the North, we don't yet know the details. Let's hope they got away with no loss of life or serious injuries.

Dogs and Women

2008-03-25T13:15:00.001Z

Good day again to you dear reader.
I noticed on the news today the people in the UK were talking to me through what appeared to be a snowstorm. You will be pleased, I am sure, to know the tables are turned and the weather here is a rather fine 65F. Although I have noticed the dust has now been followed by the Kabul haze, which is basically a brown dust cloud that hangs over the city, I presume until next winter now.

Anyway, as ever I digress, this is not the theme of my post. I thought I would answer the questions posed regarding our dog and women. I shall address these in order of importance and tell you a bit more about Inskandar, our dog. We are based in Kabul, but we also have staff in our northern office in Pul-i-Khumri and a house there. This is where Iskandar lives (look up his name, it does have a meaning). There will be a prize for the first right answer!!!

He was a street dog (of which there are many). Afghans are not dog lovers by any stretch and they seem only to have three functions. They are either guard dogs, fighting dogs or stone throwing targets. They get a pretty rough deal. However, Iskandar has been adopted by our man in the North and he is leading a right old life, living it up in the house with regular walks, proper food, lots of attention and a bed for the night. Probably one of the best cared for dogs in the whole of 'Stan.

So what will become of this little cutie. He willl remain the dog at the house in PiK and will continue to thrive. When our man in the North leaves, if the new ex-pat does not want him he shall bring him back to the UK. Fear not, he will not be abandoned.

As for women. There are many ex-pat women in Afghanistan and particularly in Kabul. They always wear trousers or ankle length skirts and long sleeves tops. When in public they always wear a scarf over their heads as is the way here. It is very, very unusual but sometimes you will be on the plane back from Dubai and there will be a woman who has not been briefed properly and will be wearing a sleeveless top or the like on the plane. this causes a stir at Kabul airport and they soon cover up. The funniest thing is the Afghan TV stations which pixelate any female flesh that appears anywhere. I am not sure what they think will happen if this flesh is seen, but I think it says more about the lack of any form of discipline in the male population than anything else. Even in the ex-pat only bars etc, it is very unusual to see a woman wearing a sleeveless top and never a skirt above the ankles.

How do the Afghan men relate to these women? Not very well. Wife beating and abuse is still prevalent and not seen as an evil in any way. In fact there are many roadside posters depicting this as bad and the idea of treating women as people is a concept the Government are trying to introduce. To have an ex-pat woman telling you what to do is very difficult for them. They will always smile politely, but you get the feeling that many of them believe she should be slapped down. Not all, but some. We had one female working for us and there was always great tutting about her telling people what to do. Worse still was the fact that she went out in the evening. I constantly had orders from the top Afghan management to discuss this with her and to get her to stop this kind of activity. A woman going out on her own (to meet other women) is completely unheard of. In fact, Afghan women are not even supposed to go shopping without a chaperone. Of course, she was travelling in an armoured car with a driver and an armed guard, but these men were not her family and therefore she should not be out with them. Yes they have somewhat archaic attitudes and these alone would make for a long missive.

On another observation of Kabul life there is something that puzzles and amuses me about everyday life. Every other car in Kabul is a yellow and white taxi. These are almost 100% very old, battered Toyota Corolla estates, capable of holding up to 15 people (the max I have seen). They are truly battered and have a lack of detail to things like windscreen wipers, stop lights, any proper lighting at all. However, they are covered with accessories. They are reminiscent of our "souped up" cars in our teenage years except the accessories here do not add anything to the functionality of the car. Various coloured lights behind the radiator grill, little lights on the wing mirrors, flashing lights across the back which flash completely randomly, flags flying from mirrors, long aerials, carpets over the seats, fluffy steering wheel covers and.............ski racks. For some utterly inexplicable reason ski racks on the roof seems to be some sort of must have accessory. They are completely useless, I have never seen them used to carry anything, let alone skis. They are completely redundant, but utterly necessary. This is yet another mystery of the Afghan psyche which continue to baffle me.
Anyway, those are todays observations, I hope they have brought some enlightenment. As no-one has asked for a while the yoghurt/honey/banana diet is working well. Bowels are just fine,thanks.

Friday morning

2008-03-21T08:18:00.003Z

Good morning, it is Friday and our normal day off. This follows on from the Afghan New Year so again all is quiet. Made even quieter by the city power being off and there being no electricity. In the background there is the hum of generators in the distance, but not ours, so we have no power, no water (the pump is off when the leccy is off) and the house is silent. In fact, I am the only one awake.

It is again a lovely sunny day, but rain is forecast, so I shall take the opportunity to wander round to the Kabul Coffee House for a Latte (yes they have, what appears to be, the ONLY proper Italian coffee machine in Kabul) and a Greek Salad. The KCH is in the next street so we always take a short stroll round the corner. They also have a wireless Internet connection so I can talk to the outside world (which I can't do here, at the moment). They have one of those signs that we Brits find rather funny when abroad. It is supposed to say "Wireless Internet now here" but they have run two words into one and it actually says "Wireless Internet nowhere".
I have my book, laptop and specs in my bag and off I stroll. Of course, I have had to change from my shorts to my trousers. Even men are not allowed to show that much flesh on the streets of Kabul.
Today the children are out in force. Outside our house are the kids from our street playing cricket, they have a chair as a wicket, a tennis ball and a small, children's bat. The rules seem a bit loose and flexible depending on your idea of bowling, but they are certainly having a great time. As always they offer to let me play and I stay and watch (field) for few minutes before carrying on. Further up the street some younger boys (only boys come out to play) have a make shift kite and are flying this high, high above the streets. These kites are basically made from a plastic bag and a wooden frame, but from somewhere they seem to get miles of nylon "string" and they fly the kits so high you can barely see them.

The KCH is a really nice little oasis of pleasure here which serves real Italian coffee and reasonable snack type food (salads, omelettes etc.) and has a pleasant garden to sit in, as you can see above (sorry about the quality of the picture but it was taken with the computer webcam!). It used to be a great little secret that was frequented mainly by Afghans and a few, select Ex-Pats, but since the Serena attack and the latest threats from our "Bearded Friends" it has grown in popularity with Ex-Pats as the more high profile haunts have closed. Anyway there is no parade of foreigner's Land Cruisers outside today and it is pretty empty inside.
It too has beefed up security and also has a series of doors, armed guards and searches but hey-ho this is Kabul life.
So, for a pleasant couple of hours I drink Caramel Latte, eat "Greek" salad and work and read. The "Greek" salad is actually a lot of lettuce, two olives, some tomato and cheese that only has colour as its tenuous link to feta, the taste, smell and texture are a far cry from the original, but it tastes good in its own way and that is all that matters, really.
On the way back I drop into a small shop to buy a can of mango drink and a large tub of yoghurt for dinner this evening. The drink is 25Afs and the yoghurt 50Afs (1Af = 1p), so i suspect the prices have been doubled for me, but 75p is not a bad deal.
As I get back I can begin to hear thunder rumbling on the other side of the mountains that surround Kabul and slowly a large black cloud is working its way over the peaks.
15 minutes after getting back and changing into my shorts, the cloud and thunder has arrived and it is now snowing!! If only the human attitudes could change as quickly as the weather!!!!

2 phrases you do not want to hear on an airplane

2008-03-20T12:42:00.008Z

Hello there, how are you today?
Me? Well, I am back in Kabul and enjoying a lovely sunny day. Incredibly, the temperature seems to have risen around 40C since January and we are now basking in glorious sunshine.
It is the Afghan New Year and there is a general holiday, the streets are empty, no pedestrians, no cars and more importantly, the office is empty.
In some ways it is quite eerie as the warm weather has brought the return of the DUST. Yes, dust is a very important part of Kabul life. It gets everywhere and covers everything. With no traffic or people there is a gentle breeze and as I look out my window there are small billows of brown being blown gently down the empty street. The soil is not only incredibly fine (like talcum powder) but seems to avoid sustaining any life at all costs. So the street is completely bare. Just the dusty dirt road, high walls and little brown clouds. I expected there to be kite flyers out today, but maybe everyone is inside celebrating.
So today I have been sitting in the garden working from home and enjoying the rays. In fact, it was so, so sunny this afternoon I could not see the screen on the laptop and had to resort to reading a book. Currently, I have Bill Bryson's "Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid" on the go. For anyone who grew up in 50's USA or 60's UK it will transport you back to a youth and time before the advent of the computer and "gameboys". A simpler time when children actually went outside and played, a time when we were indestructible and needed no helmets, knee pads, softened play areas and warning labels. When there were few rules and almost anything went. But, as ever, I digress.
Digressing is a good sign, I hope, and shows that my addled brain of February has been revitalised and replaced with one of clarity and a penchant for a tale. I think the Monkees singing "Daydream Believer" is also helping the general mood here. So, although we have not managed to leave the confines of the house and garden today, in the world of Kabul the sun is shining and it is as good as it gets. Even the restaurant/bar round the corner has re-opened and although getting in is now a test of patience and good nature, at least it is open again.
As for the title to this missive, let me take you back a couple of days to my departure from dear old Blighty and my eventual arrival in Kabul.
You are now accustomed to these journeys having their, shall we say, interesting diversions and the fact that they are never quite what they seem. Well this one again did not disappoint. I left Heathrow Terminal 3 at 8pm UK time on the Emirates flight to Dubai. An fairly uneventful journey except there was a good tail wind and we arrived in Dubai a little early. We flew overnight and arrived at 2.30am UK time (6.30am Dubai time). Unfortunately having given us dinner etc, then happily serving breakfast at 1am UK time, I only had about 2 hours sleep max on the plane. However, I arrived OK, went from Dubai terminal 1 (proper terminal for proper airlines to proper places) and I got a taxi to terminal 2 (dodgy terminal for dodgy airlines to dodgy places)
After recent experiences I had booked the UN flight from Dubai to Kabul. What could possibly go wrong? After all, the UN is a reputable organisation, if not a well known airline operator.
We took off at midday Dubai time (8am UK time, still only 2 hours sleep) and headed for Kabul, Afghanistan. OK, only a couple of hours and we will be back at the Kabul Ex-Pat house and can get some sleep.
Now there are many phrases you do not want to hear when you are sitting on a plane. One of the general ones that applies to all planes in all places is "we appear to have a problem with one of the engines". Another, that is more uniquely Afghan, is "we are diverting to Kandahar". Now, even those of us that for some inexplicable reason think that living and working in Kabul is acceptable, know that Kandahar rhymes with Helmand in the list of places that are not good places to be diverted to. OK, it was good enough for our illustrious Prince Harry and whats good for the goose etc. So within 15 minutes of these announcement we are dropping down into Kandahar. So when these two phrases are uttered in the same sentence, we all sit and look at each other as if to say "this was not part of the deal".
We land at the airport/airbase which is a big military base with lots of very interesting things all around us. I shall not specify what aircraft and flying things were there, but suffice to say I saw lots of things I have only seen on news bulletins and I did not even know were here.
We sat on the runway waiting while they checked over the engine and refuelled the plane. Unfortunately, we were not allowed off for a wander round, which would have been interesting, however the thing that was really taxing our minds was the time. It takes an hour to get to Kabul and planes are not allowed to fly into Kabul after dark (its a Taleban surface to air missile thing!) and we can see the clock ticking down while they fiddled with the plane. We were quite intrigued, if we could not go on to Kabul, where could you put up 150 unexpected ex-Pats in Kandahar? We looked and looked, but no airport hotel seemed to be there to greet us.
As we all began to speculate more and more and 4.30pm (Afghan time) loomed large we began to start treating this as a serious question, where would we go? At 4.28pm the pilot announced we were leaving, the tanker withdrew, the man with a screwdriver at the engine ran away and with the seat belt sign still off and the doors still open, the engines fired up. It was a very swift run up the taxiway and we were off, heading for Kabul arriving just as dusk fell.
The airport was closed and we were shown into the UN special lounge, our passports stamped and we were released onto an unsuspecting Kabul. My driver was in the car park, we picked up our guard as we left the airport and we headed for the house. It was just after 6pm (1.30pm UK time), the light was fading fast, and I was back at my Kabul "home" arriving for the last time. In 6 weeks I shall leave for the last time. I shall miss these little exciting diversions, not a lot.

taking a rest

2008-03-11T20:40:00.003Z

Hello again,

Sorry to have been so quiet of late. I simply have not felt much like writing. I have been to the north of Afghanistan and through the Salang Tunnel and have stories to tell about this and other stuff (we have even adopted a puppy in the North, see piccie) for the last month.

I am back in the UK now after a weeks skiing in Italy before I go back to 'Stan on Monday. Am feeling more like writing so will try to catch up later this week.

Compared to many in Kabul and around Afghanistan, who have been dying in their hundreds throughout the cold spell, life has been pretty good for us, but I am afraid the cold, lack of water and electricity and the general tightening of security and restrictiveness combined with additional workload have all affected the general mood and created an air of apathy towards blogging.

So my apologies for that, normal service will be resumed shortly!!

snow and rice - both slow the traffic

2008-02-08T10:46:00.000Z

I am sitting here grinning at the poetic beauty and the magnificently clever intended pun in the title above. It is short, sharp and incredibly witty.
I know you are now dying to get to the end of this missive just to share in the joke but be patient, I shall begin by addressing a few questions that have been posed of me.
First of all Clair, I would like to thank you for your comments and also for the fact that your attention has transferred from the exit to the entrance, figuratively speaking.
How do we get by for tea. Well, we are able to buy a variety of teas including standard "English brew". Mostly we shop at Bifpo as we affectionately call it. This is the BFPO office at the British army camp in Kabul, Camp Souter. Here they have a NAAFI that deals in such treats as Nescafe coffee, Tetley tea bags and Hobnobs. (which tea is never complete without). So under the guise of going to see if any important business mail has arrived at Bifpo, on a daily basis we take it in turns to visit the NAAFI and stock up. A little treat to break up the day.
Of course, getting into camp Souter is a trial, but always worth the effort, just to see the red post box that looks like it has been stolen from a country town back home and planted into this dusty, windswept base in Kabul.
There are other delights available here in Kabul as well, but the purchase of alcohol is always a bit fraught in a strict Moslem country. There are some Afghan shops that sell it "under the counter" and you have to know someone who knows someone who knows a shop that sells it. Then you have to go in and discreetly wait for there to be no-one about and then ask the shopkeeper and the transaction takes place in utmost secrecy as the goods are loaded into a bag behind the counter, the money handed over and the goods are not inspected until you get to the safety of your car/house. So you are never quite sure what beer you have bought or, more importantly its sell by date, (post sell by date beer is cheaper) until it is too late. Last night we wanted to get a case of beer and went to a shop we know sells beer, but they had none, but he kindly pointed us in the direction of another shop we had not been to before. We went in the shop and there were a couple of policemen idling away the day away in the shop. They were watching an Indian soap (these are very popular here and many shops, for some reason we don't know, have a small TV on, in fact, this is quite common in Indian shops in the UK, so not so strange).
So, I minced around looking at some pastries hoping the Police would leave but they didn't. In the end quietly, and very discreetly I asked if they had beer. The shopkeeper proceeded to wave his arms in the air and profess very loudly and with suitable indignation "No Beer, No Beer, No Beer" causing everyone in the shop to turn and stare at me. As I waited for the ground to open and swallow me up I went a bright shade of red. Oh well, another lesson learnt. In post-Serena Kabul people are becoming keen to be seen not to be fraternising with the foreigners.
Now where were we, yes, fruit and veg. Wonderful fruit and veg here. Most is sold on little barrows by the side of the road and each barrow will be full of an individual item. You will get a man with a barrow of oranges, next to the man with the barrow of apples etc. The fruit and veg are very good, especially cauliflowers. they have the largest cauliflowers you will ever see. The men generally are not stood next to the barrow, but clear a small area in the corner of the barrow and sit there cross legged all day waiting for business. I am told most of the fruit and veg comes from Pakistan and from the south and north of Afghanistan. It is very high quality and excellent to eat. Grapes are in abundance and, I am told the region around Kabul has 16 different varieties of grape (but no wine).
These are the areas and fields we are clearing from landmines. Each minefield cleared is a new field open for agriculture. As soon as it is clear the landowner will be straight out and the field will be ploughed or fenced. Within a matter of days crops will be planted (no, not poppies) or goats and sheep will be grazing. Another livelihood secured and another family that will shortly be self-sufficient.
Oh yes, you wanted to know about snow and rice. Ok, this week it snowed BIG time in Kabul, a good few inches fell and the normally chaotic, me-first Afghan style of driving came into its own. (A doctors report I read here once said "Driving is still the preferred activity of the Afghan male wishing to commit suicide"). You can imagine this driving coupled with bald tyres, no road sense, thick snow and ice all combined to create a maelstrom of chaos. To add to the excitement they have created gutters at the side of the roads that are around a foot deep and wide, so once you start to slide towards it, your wheel goes over the edge of the gutter and BANG - that is the end of your driving until you and a group of friends can find a way of picking your car out of there. So we have it, cars littering the edges of the road, we have cars coming BACK up the dual carriageway because they can't get across the gaps, we have cars sliding everywhere and, of course, the manic Afghan NEED to jump into the smallest of gaps if it gives you a one inch advantage. Oh yes, and a lack of proper windscreen wipers, screenwash and heated rear windows giving all this a surreal "looking through fog" appearance as everyone tries to see through misted up windows.
Inevitably this leads to a number of cars coming into contact with each other. The customary Afghan way to deal with this situation is both entertaining and amusing. Instead of exchanging insurance details, which obviously don't exist, it requires both the drivers (always male) to get out of their cars and shout and gesticulate until a willing crowd forms. then comes the ritual fight. This requires a lot of slapping arms around and generally appearing to fight without actually throwing a punch. The function of the crowd is to pull the warring parties apart and for everyone to agree that a bloodbath would have ensued without their intervention and both parties are satisfied now that they would have fought to the death and can now carry on their way. Honour is preserved and nothing is achieved - sound familiar!!
So that is how the snow and ice slows the traffic but where is the punchline with the rice, I hear you ask. Ready, here it comes. Yesterday, Condie was in town. Yes, Condaleezza Rice came to visit us and most of the roads in the centre of Kabul were closed for her convoy. Getting home took more than double the normal time. The Rice definitely slowed the traffic. Heck, I am getting good at this!!!!

bizzare at the bazaar

2008-02-07T14:56:00.000Z

Once again, I feel the need to share with my faithful audience the experiences, the sounds, the smells, the cold, the sights, the feel, the taste of everyday life in Kabul. So, today's ditty is about a visit I made to the bazaar recently.
As an organisation we purchase enough food to feed 3000 people three meals a day. In terms of rice alone this is equivalent to 15 tonnes a month, not counting beans, peas, ghee, onions, potatoes, bread, meat, milk, tea, tomato paste and fruit. Yes, folks my shopping bill is around $20,000 per month. A very impressive one million Afghanis. So I decided to find out exactly how we go about making this purchase.
We send a man to the bazaar, he goes round the bazaar and gets the quotes. I inspect the quotes, choose a supplier and the purchase is made. BUT how exactly do you go about buying tons and tons of food in one go, so off I trotted to the bazaar to see how it all went.
Of course this requires the obligatory armed guard and armoured vehicle for the journey (which I am sure you are tired of me telling you, but it will become a relevant part of the story).
Now shopping in Kabul is fairly orderly, the stationary shops are all in one place, as are the motor parts, the dentists, the computer shops, the TV shops (again this will become relevant) etc. So we were heading for an area in West Kabul were there are the dry goods markets. West Kabul was the most heavily bombed area during the civil war and is still a collection of badly damaged falling down type buildings. Think of a demolition site that they stopped demolishing ¾ of the way through and this is West Kabul.

The bazaar is a rabbit warren of small holdings in narrow alleys with people running around everywhere and the noise of a thousand deals being struck. As you approach it you begin to be drawn into smaller and smaller alleys full of stalls with all kinds of dry goods. Hessian sacks are in front of each “shop” with the tops open and rolled down displaying the goods. Rice, lentils, peas, beans; a whole myriad of products. Each “shop” is no more than either a wooden lean-to or a 20-ton container with the doors open as a shop. Men stand outside each one calling you in, tempting you with chai (tea) and a seat to do your deal. I am led through by our buyer, walking along muddy paths with a gully in the middle, water and various other liquids slowly wend down the gulley as you take care not to misplace your step. There is snow and ice on the ground and slush where hundreds of feet have trodden there way through. Deeper and deeper he leads me, my armed guard following in my footsteps behind me until we reach the appointed seller. We are buying half our rice allocation, 184 sacks of rice.

At the entrance to the bazaar we have parked our enormous Kamaz 6 wheel-drive lorry. It is a beast with tyres almost to my full height. This will take our food back to base, but how on earth are we to get the goods to the truck. We must have come down 300 yards of muddy, narrow paths barely two men wide between the stalls.

From nowhere appears a group of likely lads with wheelbarrows. These lads, I presume, are the equivalent of Tibetan Sherpas. They are young, ragged, smiling, happy and willing. Wearing just barefoot sandals on their feet they march into the dark back of the stall and start appearing carrying the sacks. They carry them on their backs to the weighing scales, each sack is individually weighed and the sack inspected then they each load the sacks onto their wheelbarrows. The boys are small, slightly built but incredibly strong as they pick up sack after sack and carry to their wheelbarrows. All the while there is a ceaseless banter going onto between loaders, buyer and stall holder. I have been sat on a chair with a cup of chai and am left to watch the proceedings. Once they have 5 sacks on their barrows they are each off through the crowds, down the alleys racing to get the sacks onto the Kamaz, they return and the whole process continues. In the meantime, I go to inspect the bean and pea seller, soon the boys will move onto these to make the same transfer of sacks. Next we make a very civilized visit to the tea seller, in the tea corner of the bazaar. Wonderful smells of the various teas on offer, again with large sacks open out front for inspection. We are buying green tea and black tea, both of which have to be tasted and selected before the transaction can complete. The tea seller is a very jolly man with little English, but much humour. We pass a very agreeable 15 minutes trying teas, laughing and gesticulating about the various teas and generally around the bazaar. Things are going so well, what could go wrong?
Next we leave this market and wander down the road the the Ghee seller. Ghee is equivalent to butter, in a way but is used for cooking and is very important in eastern asian coooking. The Ghee seller is in a strange courtyard in what appears to be a block of flats. The snow is beginning to melt and water is pouring from the roofs onto the stairs, the area is filthy and smelly with rotten produce in the gulleys, it is not a place you would walk into without reason.
However, we meet the Ghee seller and all is well, the guard is standing outside the door and we are conversing, when all hell breaks loose. My guard is attacked by a group of men shouting, shaking fists and pushing him back. I go out with our buyer and try to work out what the hell is going on. In the end I have our buyer on the phone to my assistant in the office to tell him in Dari what the problem is and then he can translate and tell me what is causing this to kick off. It turns out some armed men (dressed as police) were in the market earlier and kidnapped a stall holder and they think my guard is one of the gang. This I am being told on the phone while the aggro is still going on in front of me. Once I have the story we beat a hasty retreat; getting your guard beaten up so far from base is not a good move. I grab the guard, the buyer leads the way and we are heading for the stairs with the shouts ringing in our ears and the fists being shaken at us.

We get out onto the street and I call up the armoured car. All is now calm and as the car comes round the corner we get in. The trip to the bazaar is over for today for me and the guard, the buyer finishes the deals, supervises the boys loading the Kamaz and pays the stallholders. This takes around another 2 hours. Meanwhile me and the guard head for the office. You see, I told you the guard was relevant to the story!!

Mountain climbing

2008-02-01T07:24:00.000Z

Well, I was going to start this entry with a few more words about the security situation in Kabul, but this afternoon we went for a walk up TV Hill, which is not a hill at all, as it is more than 2000m high, but as Kabul is at 1800m it is only relatively a few hundred metres, but it is high, cold, windy, covered in snow and feels pretty much like standing at the top of Portavescovo, but without a nice warm restaurant!! It is called for no greater reason than the TV masts are on it, where is the romance in this world?

Ok, I will admit, we cheated and drove to the top but the views are stunning of the mountains around Kabul, the Hindu Kush to the North and the plain of Kabul laid out before us in the valley.

The journey up was very interesting, not just for the icy frozen road, but also for the houses we passed. As I have mentiond before something like 60% of the houses in Kabul are illegally built mud huts on the sides of the mountains. Well, today we got to see them and their inhabitants close up. We were lucky we drove up, as there is a road for the military and TV installations at the top, but the people who live in these houses have no cars or transport. Some have very basic electricity, but no water supply, gas, sanitation or shops. Everything, is carried from the city up the mountain by hand (mainly on peoples backs). We passed small children carrying supplies up the mountain side to their houses, mostly without coats or hats. Two small boys had a wheelbarrow with a rope at the front; one pulling and one pushing with two five-gallon containers of water in the wheelbarrow.

Life is hard, uncomfortable, tough and all about survival; nothing more, nothing less. Very sobering.

Anyway,we got to the top and the views were quite spectacular and well worth the journey. We walked the last few hundred yards to as near to the top as we were allowed and tried to spot the landmarks down below.

So, Friday was a funday!! and what else has your intrepid correspondant in Kabul been up to this week, you may ask, and if you do I will tell. Actually, I will tell anyway. This week I have visited the British Embassy where, I am pleased to say a photograph of Her Majesy hung majestically in the Portakabin that acts as the security entrance to the Embassy. A fine photo of our noble Soveriegn in full Regalia looking somewhat out of place in a Portakabin, but heyho this is Kabul and needs must. For a moment it felt as if I had stepped back onto the soil of dear old Blighty, but the illusion only lasted a moment as the sign on the door next to HRH is a red circle with a white background and a red diagonal stripe across it. A bit like a No smoking sign except this one had an outline of a Kalashnikov on it. Yes, it means "no firearms) Ok, this is Kabul!!!!

We also visited a Korean restaurant for dinner one evening this week. You remember my description of the bar last week with only four people in it? Well, the Korean restaurant had NO people in it except us. The good thing is it was so far off the beaten track and down a dark side street followed by a dark alley that no-one would ever find us there. When you get there, you get out the car, knock on the gate and get back into the car while you wait. A nice friendly Korean gentleman comes out to the gate, looks through the peephole and then lets you in. There is no sign outside or any indication this is a restaurant, in fact, it is clearly a house with a room set aside for people who wish to come and eat there. Even the takeaway menu has no address on it, it is purely "word of mouth" by invitation only!

We ate a relaxed meal (with Tofu, salads and a lovely soup with an egg in it) Now this was a real luxury for your humble veggie and was very welcome. The whole meal for three including soft drinks came to around £5 per head, so great value as well. We called our car, it came to the gate, we left, got in and headed back home. A bit weird, but weird is the norm here, it is funny how you go through these procedures without really noticing them. I only look back and see them as strange when I come to write about them. Am getting used to weird in this place.

Oh yes, I nearlky forgot, THE big news of the week. our delivery of duvets. Yes, boys and girls we have received a consignment of duvets. Can I put into mere words the joy, pleasure, happiness these duvets have bought to your blogger. The best thing was that I did not even know they were coming. I came home on Thursday evening and there beside my bed was a large package saying 3 in 1 duvet. Yes, in the package were two duvets, one for summer, one for winter and together a pair for Kabul!!! I have 15 big, fat, whopping togs of warm toes, yes readers, I have put BOTH duvets between the two blankets on the bed and dispensed with the sleeping bag. Oh joy, me and sleeping bags are not good bedfellows. You see, I am a very restless sleeper and the confines of a sleeping bag mean I am constantly in conflict with its tight limitations. I can't get comfortable and when I finally do, I feel the need for one more adjustment and hey presto, it all starts again.

So last night before I got into bed I prepared it. A sheet, followed by a blanket were first on and these were both tucked in tight to stop any air gaps that may upset my little toes. Then on went the two duvets, then the final blanket. I got into an ordinary bed (well Ok, it had two duvets and two blankets on it) for the first time since I froze through the night a couple of weeks ago. Oh bliss, I spread my arms, I spread my legs, I wriggled about, I turned this way, I turned that way and finally decided to settle. My toes were warm, my legs were warm, my body was warm, my arms were warm, I am so, so looking forward to going to bed tonight!!!

So there you have it, all is well-ish, I bought a toothbrush and five eggs today (and got change from 50p) and am going to make an omelette; after all, it is Friday and we like to indulge ourselves. Till the next time.

the good and the bad

2008-01-25T14:10:00.000Z

Hello again dear reader,

I am here writing to you on Friday afternoon. It is my day off and I feel I should tell you a thing or two about life in Kabul at the moment.

I have thought quite a lot about whether to send this post as I was worried the contents may concern you, but events last night made me decide that part of the responsibility of a blog is to tell “how it is” and give you, my avid readers, the opportunity to briefly experience another world (obviously without the inconvenience of having to travel there, which in the case of the return to Kabul was truly an inconvenience to be avoided!)

You may recall a news item recently about a suicide attack in a far-off place. The attack on the Serena Hotel in Kabul. You see, the Serena Hotel is about as well a defended non-military establishment as you will find outside Iraq. The fact that four of our 'bearded friends' were able to get in, let off suicide bombs and generally treat it like the OK Coral has sent an enormous shockwave through the ex-pat community in Kabul. The 'bearded ones' have declared they will attack anywhere foreigners congregate and by breaking through the defences of the Serena they have shown they can do it.

Now in Kabul there are basically two bars for the ex-pat community to enjoy a chat and a beer, one of which is reasonably close to our house. Normally, this would be very busy on a Thursday evening as Friday is the only day off. We went to the bar last night and the first thing we found was hugely increased security. Without giving details, there were a number of armed guards at various stages as we went through a number of security gates, checks and metal detectors until we eventually were able to go inside to the bar. (After that you need a strong drink!!!). Instead of the usual 100+ there was one group of just 4 people and us. We had one drink and went home. You see, it has worked, no-one dares go out and congregate anywhere.

On a lighter note, me and a colleague went for a walk today in frozen Kabul (well, we had no electric, heating or hot water at home so it seemed like a good idea). The roads really are quite odd now. First it rained and made them all rutted and then the big freeze came. So the ruts and the ground are literally rock solid. The maximum temperature we have had for a week now is -10C so the snow and ice are completely solid and frozen. Walking down the road it is dusty, but if you scrape away the dust it is solid ice underneath. Very strange. Anyway as we wandered down a road we saw a group of lads playing football in the street. They asked us if we would like to join in; so there we were in woolly hats, gloves and coats playing footie. I was in goal, the ground is so rutted running around is not a good idea!!! (hope you like the piccie). We had a laugh and some fun then headed home. Don't stay in one place for too long, as they say.

the grumpy blogger

2008-01-22T15:27:00.000Z

OK, I know I seem to spend all my time moaning but I have not washed since the night of the earthquake.
You see, yesterday morning the water heater in the bathroom blew its heating element, so we had no hot water (and believe me, in these temperatures you do not use the cold water!!). So that was fixed yesterday. I went to bed expecting to have a shower this morning BUT.
Today the diesel had frozen in the generator and so we had no power, no heating, no water, no nothing except cold and dark. So I got up very quickly and dived into a car and went straight to work for some light and heat and a cup of tea. Today the generator has been fixed and we have power, heating and water. BUT.
The water heater has sprung a leak and has been taken away to be repaired, so no hot water tomorrow!!!

There are limits...................................................

..and then the house shook

2008-01-20T16:17:00.000Z

Wow, I am getting pretty regular at this, but such a lot is happening, I feel the need to share it with you.
Now not wanting to sound like all I do is go on about the weather, but today the maximum temperature was -10C and tonight we have plunged to -23C. I have to say I have never felt this cold for so long without any respite. It is really odd but everything is made of concrete and the concrete is frozen so the cold creeps up through from the floor from your feet up your legs and means you have permanently chilly toes and it is very reminiscent of the old brass monkey saying!!
Anyway, to add to general oddness of it all last night I went to bed early, but couldn't sleep so got a book out and started reading. Then a really strange thing happened. Everything was silent but suddenly the whole house lurched, literally it lurched, moved back to its normal position and then lurched again, and then lurched again. After three lurches everything went back to normal!!
It felt so weird, like a giant hand was shaking the house from side to side and it was swaying in the wind like a tree with the foundations rooted to the spot and me sitting in the branches swaying from side to side. What made it even more weird was the silence.
I got up and had a wander round, but everyone else was asleep and so I had to assume it was an earthquake and went back to bed. It turns our there was a small quake in Iran and it was that which shook us.
So there you go this week just gets weirder and weirder.

Warm toes

2008-01-19T13:17:00.000Z

Dear reader,
I can feel your concern across the many oceans and leagues that divide us.

Your anxiety about my well-being through the freezing night is well founded and appreciated. BUT, fret no more; relax and settle down in your comfy armchair, put out the cat, make a warm mug of Horlicks, light the fire, put your feet up, dim the lights, turn on the TV and settle down in front of the next episode of Midsomer Murders. Worry not for me, but for poor Bergerac and the next village to be decimated by a rampaging murderer as another scorned member of the WI wreaks their revenge on the inhabitants of a population halved by their blood-lust and thirst for the respect and dignity that has been so cruelly denied them by the coven of judges in the Jam-making competition.

No need to head for the Red Cross and demand a parcel of warm blankets and quilts are delivered to Kabul immediately on a mission of extreme need, for I, your humble blogger found a sleeping bag last night and now ensconce myself in said sleeping bag under three blankets. Last night my little toes were resplendent in only one pair of thermal socks and were toasting like marshmallows on a fork while I slept the sleep of the desperately tired. In fact, I woke up at 8am, realised it was a holiday, there was no power, the heating was off and my breath was creating a nice line in freezing mist and decided to stay under the covers. I finally awoke at 12:15 which must be the first time I have slept through a whole morning since my 40's.

So, all is well, and tomorrow we finally go to work and begin the long task of unravelling what has been done in my absence, I wonder what delights await me!!

So till then, be good, and please don't be shy to leave a comment, it is heart-warming to know someone actually reads this drivel!!!

Chill Will Bill Nill - part 2

2008-01-18T17:01:00.000Z

Well, we have had a day in Kabul. The irony is that I had to get back for Wednesday to do the end of year accounts. We were stuck in Dubai and I did them over the phone. We finally arrived at 4.30pm on Thursday and everyone had gone home. Friday is our day off and Saturday is a holiday. I will have left London on Monday and not actually go to work until this Sunday. I could have had almost a whole further week at home. Oh well; win some, lose some.

Now I thought it was cold before I left. But the house has been empty for a month and there is thick snow on the ground. The inside walls of the house are damp and clammy and the house is freezing. We put all the heating on yesterday, but it has hardly made a dent in the cold. Last night it was about -15C outside. I slept with 3 blankets, 2 pairs of socks, thermal vest and long johns and pyjamas, and froze all night. Tonight it is expected to be about -23C (that is about the temperature on the Eidelweiss chair in the blizzard for those who were there). Am going to hunt for a sleeping bag to cocoon myself in!!! It is the coldest Kabul has been for 20 years.

Reading the news, it says 200 people have died from the cold in Afghanistan in this cold snap. I really don't believe that, it must be more. There are people in tents, on the street and in shells of houses out there, let alone those in the mud houses all over the hills and that is just Kabul. All things are relative. I am worse off than you, but I know within a mile of me are people far worse off than me. Sleep well.

the return – part 3

2008-01-17T14:08:00.000Z

Hello again, this really is becoming an epic, but don't worry we are almost there. It is now straightforward, we go back to the airport, they put us on a plane and we leave – easy!!

EXCEPT, of course there are today's flights to contend with as well as yesterdays, and immigration are not letting anyone through until we are definitely going to leave.

The weather report from Kabul is overcast now and clearing. We get the all clear and so the mass of people for 8 flights are now thronging at the one security machine (yes, it took a long time!!)

We get through and one by one we are booked on our flights and we go through to the departure gates. The flights are called and eventually we leave around 11am, we are heading for Kabul.

The flight goes smoothly and we approach Kabul. The mountains are all covered in snow and, for the first time, I really take a good look at the approach into Kabul. For the first time I notice, actually we fly through a gap in the mountains and either side of us are mountains higher than us. Yes, I really am pleased they did not try and get in yesterday. My travel story is nearly over. As we walk across the tarmac to the arrivals hall, a huge, heavy, thick, black cloud rolls over the mountains to the south. By the time we leave the building Kabul is enveloped in a snow storm and visibility is zero. We arrived with about 20mins to spare.

Next time I will tell you just how cold it is here at night.

the return - part 2

2008-01-17T12:55:00.000Z

So where were we: oh yes, the alarm has gone off, it is 5am, we are heading for the airport, it is dark, raining and we are a tad weary, but in high spirits as we are about to escape drowning Dubai or are we?

Today there are 4 flights to Kabul, Ariana Air at 6.30, Pamir Air at 7.00, Kam Air (our flight) at 7.30 and UN at 11am.

We are all checked in, our bags are taken, we go through passport control, man asks where, when, how, why (he knows who), stamps the passport and we are in Terminal 2 departure lounge. Now I don't know if I have explained that Dubai has two terminals, Terminal one is for all legit airlines and terminal two is for dodgy airlines to dodgy places. The only flights from terminal two go to locations in Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan.

The Ariana flight goes around 7.30 and we all wait. This is normal: flights to Kabul NEVER leave on time!! However, we wait, and we wait and eventually the Ariana flight returns and its passengers are back in Departures. As you can imagine it is getting a little busy now and no-one is telling us what is going on!! We are on the phone to Kabul and it is snowing heavily and visibility is very poor. I expect that few of you have flown to Kabul, but it is surrounded by mountains and two years ago an Ariana flight flew into a mountain in poor visibility, so to be honest, we are not too distressed that we are safely on the ground.

Meanwhile, your intrepid blogger has to finish the 2007 accounts. So I spend a large part of the day sitting on the floor in a corner by a pillar (next to the lady with screaming baby and noisy toddler) where there is a socket to charge my trusty Acer, with spreadsheets on display, and mobile phone clamped to my ear trying to talk my Afghan team through budget allocations. I seriously do not recommend this as a method for closing the year end accounts, but hey, needs must as they say. Finally, they stop ringing and either can't hear me or it's sorted!

Eventually at around 3pm we are told the flights are all cancelled and we have to return through immigration, re-enter Dubai, pick up our bags and wait for a bus to a hotel to stay overnight.

Now this may sound pretty straightforward, except there are 4 flights with 4 different airlines, (not forgetting that announcements for Pamir and Kam Air sound remarkably similar over a PA system), no staff from any of the airlines and lots of potential to get us all mixed up. I will cut a long story shorter here by telling you it took a long time but eventually a Kam Air man came and collected our passports for our exit stamps to be cancelled and we were taken 20 at a time back through immigration and then came the wait for our bags. We eventually left the airport about 6pm and huddled outside on the kerb (just above the waterline) for the bus to arrive. It did, but there was not enough room for all and so me, Matthew and the Kam Air rep ended up in a taxi.

At last we were on way to the hotel, after all we have been up since 5am and spent the day in the airport. Surely things could not go wrong now!! That was until we told the taxi driver where we wanted to go. The hotel is in Sharjah (the next state) but only about 30mins taxi ride. However, according to the taxi driver Sharjah is even more flooded than Dubai and he refused to go there. After a long shouting match between the rep and the driver, which involves a supervisor coming to sort it out, we head for Sharjah.

As predicted by our driver, as we approach Sharjah the water gets deeper, the traffic slower and he becomes more edgy. In fact, he gets to the point where he turns the car round and heads back to Dubai!!! The rep taps him on the shoulder which causes all verbal hell to break loose and the driver calling his supervisor claiming he has been assaulted. Meanwhile we are looking at the water which has now reached the height of the doors. Traffic is stationary, the sky is now dark and we have absolutely no idea where we are, all we know is we slept on a plane two nights ago for a few hours, we got up at 5am today and we are now sitting in a taxi with a sulking driver who refuses to go further and claims he has be assaulted, surrounded by knee deep water!!!! After much to-ing and fro-ing and radio calls to base, the driver is calmed and we turn around again and head for Sharjah. After 3 hours we get to the hotel and walk knee deep in water carrying our bags into the hotel which has water lapping at the top step of the entrance but not quite coming in. It is late, nothing else to report except we are told to be in reception next morning at 4.30am for the whole procedure to start again. Could it get worse? Wait and see.

the return - part 1

2008-01-16T16:14:00.000Z

Greetings my faithful few. I trust you are both well upon my return from the Christmas & New Year break in dear old Blighty.

I expect you are ready for more tales of derring-do and adventures as your intrepid blogger begins his next sojourn in Afghanistan. Before I begin I would like to thank all those who, over the break period, expressed concern, nee often delight, regarding my bowels. Suffice to say I sit before you this afternoon in full control of all faculties much to your collective dismay!!!

Well, how do I begin, to tell a story of... the journey to Kabul. My faithful fellows and fellowesses I can tell you now the journey itself was of epic proportions and is a blog entry all of itself. So where do I begin.

Picture the scene, it is Terminal 4 at Heathrow, I am alone again in the world with just my bag of clothes, DVDs, books and of course – Acer, my ever constant (when it boots up) computer for company as I again turn my back on home comforts, warmth, company, family, the mighty CAFC et al and head back to the joys of Kabul. Little was I to know that Kabul would be further away and an adventure or two more than I realised. As I queued at check-in I had a call from Matthew who would share the flight with me, 9pm London to Dubai. The bags were checked in, we met for coffee and headed for gate 24. Gate 24 is so far from the terminal there are 3 long, separate, moving walkways to it!!! Two of which were broken, but no fear there is a coffee shop at gate 24 so off we trudged. You know how they put up signs saying “Warning 10 minutes walk to gate” well this one was very accurate, without the moving walkways it was at least 10 minutes. We get to the gate around 7.45pm and the coffee shop there is not actually closed.......... because it does not exist!!! So do we return to the main departure area, boarding is at 8.30, the walk is 20mins and we have 45mins. So we walk all the way back, have a coffee and then at 8.15 walk all the way back to the gate. But what is this, there is no boarding, in fact we are now told the plane is delayed for an hour. Not forgetting we have already made 40mins of walking between departures and gate. So we go for the full hour of walking back and forth and return once again to the coffee shop for yet more refreshment. Little did we realise this was a Portent – a sign of things to come!!!!!

The flight left an hour late and was uneventful. It was half empty and there were plenty of rows of seats to lay across and sleep, so not bad at all. We were to arrive in Dubai on Tuesday morning and catch an early morning flight to Kabul on Wednesday arriving in Kabul mid-Wednesday morning which was very important as I had to finish the 2007 end of year accounts by the end of Thursday.

In the usual chatty style of captains as they come in to land we were informed by a rather jolly chap that the weather in Dubai was a little overcast. This may go down as one of the understatements of the century. It was absolutely chucking it down with rain. In fact, the whole area outside the arrivals terminal was under water and as we stepped off the kerb we were ankle deep in water. Not bad for a desert kingdom, but only the beginning!!!

We were ensconced in our rather shabby hotel and wondered what to do for the day. I went to reception to ask them to call a taxi so we could go to the snowdome and ski for the afternoon. The answer I got rather surprised me “I am sorry sir, I recommend you do not go, Dubai is flooded and it will take about 2½ hours to get there through the traffic”

As the rain had abated we went for a walk instead, after all we are in the desert, it can't be flooded, can it? We walked for about a mile and slowly, but surely realised the receptionist was no fool, yes Dubai was flooded. (See piccie above) As we walked we had to avoid the waves made by the passing cars as the water spread across the pavement.

On the way back it poured and we got soaked, but worse was to come!! We spent the rest of the day drying out, and sleeping. Dinner was dire. If you can imagine Indian cooking with no attempt to include spices you will get the idea!! So off for an early night, and an alarm call at 5am for the next leg. At least we would be off to Kabul early and get away from the flooded desert kingdom - or were we? See you in part two.

Weather forecast, accurate the world over

2007-12-10T02:26:00.000Z

Just to make you all feel better at home, we were forecast heavy snow yesterday. The world as we knew it was about to cease and Kabul would become a winter wonderland!!

Well, we Brits love to chat about the weather, wherever we are and usually at the expense of the hapless weather forecaster, and Kabul is no different.

It rained all day yesterday, not a hint of snow in the air.

I would not mention this but we are getting the jitters about the snow. We escape on Saturday, weather permitting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Excitement at the Road Block

2007-12-08T16:34:00.000Z

There have been a couple of suicide bombers in Kabul this week, so the Police are tightening up with numerous road blocks in random places. In the evening, these road blocks consist of a number of policemen waving people down with a torch and then checking papers and moving on. They do not stop every car but a small selection, particularly cars with no number plates & those which are not full. There is a logic to this, a suicide bomber does not drive around in a car full of people, but alone. That is a point, what is the collective noun for a group of suicide bombers? Answers on a postcard, please.

Anyway, to reduce a long, rambling story to a short, rambling story, this evening we were stopped at a roadblock in our handsome, large armoured Toyota Land Cruiser. Obviously, once they had shone the torch in and seen the occupants and noticed we were an armoured vehicle, they waved us on. Again, logically, if you were a suicide bomber you would not use an armoured vehicle. Firstly, it would be a very expensive car to blow up and secondly, by definition, if it stops explosions getting in, presumably it would certainly diminish the effect of an explosion trying to get out. But this is not the point to my story.

As we were about to drive off the Police flagged down a Black Toyota Corolla, the car slowed, then accelerated through the road block and disappeared off down the road. The obvious response to this was for one of the policeman to get out his gun and start firing it into the air. This all simply leads to the fact that I have never seen a gun fired before in the open air like that and was just a tad surprised. My, what a sheltered life I have lead.

It is very cold tonight and the sky is thick with cloud. Heavy snow is forecast for tomorrow.

Another Friday funday

2007-12-07T15:56:00.000Z

Hello again one and all and welcome to my world.

Before I begin with todays tale of not so derring-do, I shall answer a couple of questions posed to me by my loyal, and frankly, bowel obsessed readership. Yes Clair, that is you. No, I have not bought any traditional Afghan dress, except for my Pakoul hat which I have to say is pretty snazzy and, I think, may begin a fashion craze that could sweep Lane End (seeing as they cost less than a £1). However, I am seriously considering buying the full burkha for you (refer to Darth Vader in previous picture) for all departures from home. I am sure Mr. R would approve!

As for Amazon etc delivering here, this is an interesting point. It is actually cheaper to post to me in Kabul, as I have a BFPO address, than it is to post to me in the UK, so yes, they do deliver. In fact, even here in Kabul, I have been bidding on items on eBay and recently won a CD that I hope is waiting for me right now at the British Army camp just down the Jalalabad Road. Talking of Army camps, oh, such a sweet slide into a new subject. I went to ISAF HQ on another shopping trip today, so some lucky people out there have been purchased an extremely cheap Christmas present today. No names, no packdrill, but 1 or 2 people reading this today are going to have to smile sweetly in a couple of weeks time and pretend they have just received a fabuloso present, which is really cheap Afghan bazaar tat. My favourite are the Oakley copy glasses which have the giveaway on the box which calls Okley glasses!!!!

I did also buy a really lovely, small silk rug today that is beautiful and feels fantastic if you walk on it barefoot.

After our shopping expedition, we came back. Outside the house those pesky kids were playing cricket again. For some inexplicable reason I thought, if you can't beat them, join them and sort of made strange noises and motions to them and they allowed us to join in, so me and Mathew spent half an hour this afternoon playing cricket in the street outside the house. The ball was a tennis ball and the wicket, I jest not, was a bicycle stood sideways, so the bowler had a target about 5 feet wide and 4 feet tall. Yes, a lot of people were out quite quickly.

After that I spent an hour sitting in the sun reading. When the sun is up it is quite warm, but as soon as the sun goes down the temperature drops sharply. We have sun forecast today and tomorow and then heavy snow for the rest of the week. Still as long as the plane takes off on Saturday, I am out of here!!!!

Get those mince pies ready at the squash club, PQ is heading home for a few weeks!!

And finally, as Sir Trevor would say. No the loo paper is not soft, in fact I think it is made from recycled razor blades, it you get my drift.

Chill Will Bill Nill

2007-12-04T03:09:00.000Z

As you can see, the view from my window is now rather spectacular with the snow capped mountains encircling the plain that Kabul sits on. Soon the snow will be down on the plain and our demining operations will halt for the duration while the ground is covered in snow and frozen.

We shall be coming back to UK soon for three weeks of hard earned rest and shall begin again in mid-January preparing for the deminers to go back out into the field in mid-February, we hope.

At the moment it is pretty chaotic as we try to struggle with $10m of budget that ends on December 31st and all the budget lines have to be spent accurately over the year to within 10% of the projections. Every day people are coming in for money for new tents, plastic sheet to cover the old tents, more diesel, more gas etc and the carefully planned projections are shattered by 8am every day and we start all over again!!! I am usually hopping mad till I get it back under control about 3pm, but that is Kabul life!!! What we need is an accountant - now where would I find one of those?

However, you have seen pictures of our house. It is not the best maintained property and the windows are akin to the windows you would find in a garden shed on a long ago abandoned allotment. They are a single pane barely hanging in the thin frame and the openers do not close properly. So when the temperature reaches -11C at night, they are not the best protection from the cold.

With the power off there is no electric and without CO alarms we cannot use the gas heaters, so there you have it. A very chilleee trip to the bathroom at 3am when you wake up shivering in bed!!!!

Still we are a lot better off than most residents of Kabul and it seems a bit churlish to moan, but I am looking forward to a hot bath, a warm room and most of all a hot, soft bed with fluffy pillows and a thick quilt. Oh, and a pint of Shepherd Neame. (not in bed)

Another Friday, another Funday

2007-12-01T08:26:00.000Z

As you are all aware by now, Friday is our day off and it is generally a day of non-stop fun and frivolity as we rampage the streets of Kabul, partying and; just going crazeee (as Noddy Holder would have said).

Yesterday was no different. I awoke at 8am, obviously no electric and no running water and laid in bed to read my book for a while. (I am sure you can feel the intensity of the day growing, even from thousands of miles away). I had breakfast (it is friday/funday so I go crazeee and cook an omelette). By 9.30 the others are awake and I can turn on the generator and get some power. Things are now happening at a pace, already I am struggling to control the excitement and anticipation.

With electricity the possibilities are endless, now the radio works, the TV works and even the internet connection is up and running.

But today is going to be a shopping day. Me and Mathew are going to ISAF HQ, where they have a bazaar on Fridays. So we call Zabi, he comes and gets us and off we go.

ISAF HQ is the HQ for the International Security Assistance Force, ie the coalition. There are soldiers here from about 20 different countries. It really is quite weird being in the midst of this Tower of Babel, here in Kabul.

"The sun has got his hat on, hip hip hip hooray" and is giving us a fine and delightful autumn day. In the car park are set up about a hundred local trader stalls selling everything from carpets to sunglasses (the Oakley copies have Okley on the box, a bit of a giveaway, methinks). There are stalls with scarves, DVDs, coats, in fact almost everything; and a large number of stalls with the strangest military memorabilia including swords, daggers, huge old padlocks!! and lots of 19th century British equipment like compasses etc. Presumably trophies from the last British retreat from Afghanistan, as well as lots of old Soviet Army memorabilia. I buy a couple of presents and Mathew gets measured up for a made-to-measure full length black leather coat a la Matrix.

Now I have to say, he is tall and thin. I am short and fat, otherwise I too would be adorned as a Neo lookalike this winter (although I expect I would be more Herr Flick than Neo, sorry Keanu).

We are breathless from the thrills and spills of it all and head back to the house after an hour or so to recharge our batteries. I came within a gnats whisker of buying a silk carpet. They are beautiful and change colour depending on the angle of the light etc. I haggle down from €320 ($450) to just $220 (106 pounds), a pretty good discount, but this particular carpet does not light my fire. One I saw at another stall was $400 which I would not have hesitated for at $220 for a silk carpet is a bargain. So I come away carpetless.

I spend the afternoon, trying out my "Teach yourself Dari" book. I thought I would start with a bit of writing. It is really strange at first to be writing right to left and your hand instantly wants to move left to right. You consciously have to make yourself write the letters "backwards" which is so difficult at first. Control is everything!!!! It is a bit like trying to write left handed as it just seems wrong!! I eventually get to write the alphabet and have written my first 2 words. Ab which is "water" and asan which is "easy". If only you could see my attempts, they are quite funny, and if you think Persian looks like squiggles, wait till you see my attempts, I am rubbish, but things can only get better!!!

In the evening I have a headache (is all this excitement tiring you out reading this?) so I go to bed early, about 8pm. At 1am I am woken by the man who lives in the house opposite. Every night he comes home at 1am and then sits outside with his hand on the car horn blaring out to get the someone to come out and open the garage door. Now I am used to this and have learnt to handle it, BUT at 5.30am this morning a delivery lorry arrived (they have building works going on) and proceeded to hammer the horn mercilessly to signal his arrival - at 5.30am!!! Now this was the last straw, I opened my window and, using a variety of Anglo-Saxon terms, requested that he may desist from this practice as soon as possible, please. This may not have done Anglo-Afghan relations much good, but I sure felt better. Incredibly the driver got out of the cab, walked over to the house and knocked on the door.

You see, you only have to ask!!

One day....................................

2007-11-22T03:12:00.000Z

One day, Darth Vader will be feared throughout the Universe. But for now, its "get on your bike and go and queue for some bread" time. Be afraid, be very afraid!!!!!

Pamir flight 202 ("oh what a flight" as the 4 Seasons sang)

2007-11-21T15:17:00.000Z

First of all, thanks to both my readers for the flood of comments that have deluged me. It has taken a while but I have managed to get through them all, although I am afraid I will not have time to answer each individual comment personally. It does make writing this drivel worthwhile. Am very interested in the comments about Brucie. Do they allow all male couples!!

I would like to start today's proceedings by replying to Clair and thanking her for her concern vis a vis my bowel movements. The nice German doctor says I have IBS. I have looked this up on the interweb thingy and am in a position now of having just enough knowledge to be dangerous to myself. You see, what I need are pro-biotics. You will have seen those Yakult type adverts showing how you will suddenly become a 25-year Adonis if you drink one of their little capsule things per day. Well we don't have them here BUT (and this is where the little knowledge is dangerous bit comes in), apparently pre-biotics will encourage the growth of your own internal, DNA matched, better than ones poured down your throat, made to measure, self multiplying pro-biotics. Now 3 things steeped in pre-biotics (wake up at the back and pay attention) are honey, ordinary yogurt and bananas. So everyday for breakfast and for my pudding in the evening this is what I eat and hey presto, everything is going quite well, although I still seem to teeter on the brink and, metaphorically, fall in every now and then for brief periods.

Now for the rest of you (Clair, you can stop reading now), I have a story of the antics of Pamir Flight 202 from Dubai to Kabul. Aha, you may be asking, what on Earth was our intrepid traveller doing in Dubai. Well, to cut a long story short and not bore you with the details (that is a change, I hear you sigh), my Afghan visa runs out this week and it is easier to get an Afghan visa in Dubai than Afghanistan, so I made a whistle stop visit to Dubai arriving on Saturday evening, getting a visa on Sunday and flying out first thing Monday morning.

Actually while we are talking about Dubai, let me tell you about my Sunday there. I got up at 7am as I needed to be at the embassy by 8am. After breakfast of yogurt only, yes my tummy felt dodgy, I asked the hotel to sort out a taxi to the embassy and the receptionist told me I could get one outside!!!

So, I went out and waited, and waited. Eventually a taxi did stop, but he did not know where the Afghan Embassy was so I let him go, then another came and the same problem. Eventually a man came up to me and asked me where I wanted to go and I told him. He was the driver for the hotel next door. He had no driving to do for an hour so he was happy to take me there and back - for a price. Anyway, I got there handed in all the info etc and then came back.

I went up to the roof where there was a little pool and no people and spent a very pleasant and relaxing few hours on my own having a swim, reading my book, having a swim, reading my book etc. After that I went back to my room had a shower and headed back to the embassy. At least now I knew where it was so was able to direct the taxi driver. Once that was sorted (in typical Afghan style they had told me to go back between 2 and 4pm, I got there at 2.30pm and they were closed, but apparently would open soon!!) which they did.

After I had my passport back with my shiny, new Afghan visa, I got the driver to take me to the big shopping mall with the indoor ski area. Yes folks, there really is an indoor ski centre in Dubai. It is quite bizarre, 35C outside, -3C inside. With your skis you also get a coat and trousers. Really strange skiing and looking through the glass seeing people dressed in Arab wear or t-shirts and shorts watching me sking. But it was real snow and a hill at least the length of the average ski resort nursery slope.

Anyway, I spent a couple of hours there and had a great time, then after I had dinner in the TGI Fridays overlooking the ski slope.

I wandered round the mall for a while and then headed back to the hotel. I had a drink in the bar and then had an early night (as I had to be up at 4.30 today).

Now here we are, finally at the story of Pamir flight 202.

When they called the flight (1 hour late), the melee that ensued would have made the worst Ryanair scrum look like a tea party (and we had allocated seats). Me and a guy called Steve from Canada, just sat back and watched. Also everyone takes huge bags onto the plane. So, when we eventually got on the plane, our seats were taken, and all these people were sat there with their bags taking up the seat next to them. The plane was full and a quarter of the seats were full of luggage, it was chaos. So we just waited and eventually the cabin crew, who were tearing their hair out by now, managed to get the bags off the seats and pile them up across the emergency exit, and seated Steve in Business Class in the last seat there and I eventually found an aisle seat further back.

The plane took off the obligatory 2 hours late, with people sitting there, tables down, seats tilted back, chatting on their phones etc. They are TOTALLY incapable of following simple instructions or behaving in any form of communal way. They are just like children who need to be constantly supervised!!

The flight was OK, but when we got near Kabul chaos ensued again. As we began to get lower people were trying to use their phones to say we were coming in to land. And as for seat belts, you had the window seat person looking out the window, the middle seat, seat belt off leaning across him to see out, and the aisle seat person STANDING on his seat trying to look over their shoulders. This is absolutely true. The cabin crew had given up by now and belted themselves in and left us to it. As fast as they sat someone down they just got straight back up again!!

The moment we landed (we were still on the runway) they are up getting their bags out!!! and racing for the exit. Of course this really does not get the door opened any quicker or the steps put up, or even the baggage out the hold, but it is Kabul life.

So there you have it, today, two stories in one, I will regret this when I am struggling to think of something to tell you next time.

Till then.

Prancing Porker at the Paris Wedding Hall (Thursday night fever)

2007-11-16T05:15:00.000Z

Before I begin, I would just like to tell you how underwhelmed I am by your comments. Lets hope this tale of derring-do will lift your spirits and create a response.

Yesterday, all us foreigners (Khoragi), there are only 6 expats and 3000 Afghans in the organisation, were invited to Najibs wedding at the Paris Wedding Hall in downtown Kabul.

Now weddings are big affairs in Afghanistan and wedding halls are big business and HUGE places. Before I went I was told a wedding hall is a bit like being inside a wedding cake, and that was pretty true. A huge warehouse of a building on 3 floors decorated like a wedding cake!!!

A thousand people at a wedding is quite the norm. Now, when I say a thousand people at a wedding you have to understand a not so subtle and fundamental concept at this point. Although there is one wedding, there are two halls, one for the women and one for the men!! I may have explained this before, in the Afghan way, women are the property of their husbands (property as in a kettle or a television is your property) and the men are fearful of their property being stolen by each other so they keep it hidden. Hence an Afghan house has no windows on the ground floor that can be seen by a passer by (remember my recollections of the walls everywhere) and their women are dressed in Burkhas in public. (Of course, some people are more liberal than others, but this is a general rule). Anyway, that is the way, you have two rooms, one full of men and one full of women and the two do not meet during the wedding.

Three of us went to the wedding, one of which is female and although we got her special permission to stay with us in the Mens hall she did take a peek into the womens hall and said they were all dressed in really bright colours and looking great, then when they come out they put their Burkhas over the top and hid it all to enure another man is not driven crazy with desire and runs off with them.

When we got there we were escorted to a table in the corner where other Afghan HALO staff were seated. Some in suits and ties, some in their best Shalwar Kameez and some casually, a really wonderful mix of different styles of tradition and modern. Some also wearing the traditional Afghan flat rolled up hat.

There were about 300 men in the hall and presumably another 300 women in the womens hall. Everyone is sat around at tables chatting and enjoying the spectacle.

There is a traditional Pashtun band playing music with a really heavy beat and a rather high voiced singer. The dancing is called "Attan", I think and is derived from old, warrior dancing from the night before a battle. A group of men (preferably with long hair) are standing in a large circle in the dancing area in front of the very loud, thudding band. One man leads and the others follow his movements. This involves a lot of standard dance type waving of arms, spinning round and even dropping to your knees and shaking your head (and long hair) wildly. It is really quite spectacular and its warrior origins are pretty clear from the power of the dancing. The dance is also a sort of trial as it goes on until the last man is standing and the others have retired from tiredness. During the dancing one of the dancers will pick up a water urn and throw this over himself and the other dancers to cool them and to spur them on. Anyway, this went on for about an hour and there were about 4 of them left.

At this point the food was brought out and we all sat round and ate traditional Afghan fayre. Well, of course that excludes your humble narrator who had the salad and veg and some pudding, but avoided the copious meat dishes, which I am reliably informed were delicious.

Thank you for sticking with me so far, the action is about to begin.

Now maybe it is the middle age spread, the bald head, the Grant Mitchell look or simply my repartee, wit and charm, but everywhere I walked around this wedding hall greeting men I seemed to be a minor celebrity, so when the music started up again after the dinner, I found myself being dragged to the dance floor by a group of men who all seemed intent on dancing with me. Yes, honestly, these guys came over to me and took my arm and dragged me to the dance floor. This is absolutely true, they called out to the band and had a tune they thought appropriate put on and the dance floor cleared to leave me and one selected member of their group standing there on our own in the middle of the floor surrounded by 300 clapping, cheering Afghan men.

I had two choices: run and forever shame the Empire or to take up the challenge and show them what I learnt all those years ago at Broomfield Church Hall disco, (Moonstomper, eat your heart out). At this point I must apologise to John Travolta, thank God these guys have never seen Saturday Night Fever, for this was Thursday Night Fever, it was going to be brief, brutal and barely watcheable!!

As the thumping drum beat pounded out we faced each other just a few feet apart, my adversory raised his arms outstretched to his sides like a matador stalking his prey and looked me straight in the eye. I did likewise. This was to be a dancing duel and for God, Queen, Empire and John Travolta, I was not to be cowed or defeated.

We circled each other, the drum beat loud and urgent, the assembled throng of men expectant, yet nervous, how would the Khoragi react, what new moves would he bring to the dancefloor, could he outdance and cow his adversary. I jumped into the air, crossed my legs, landed and did a full 360 turn, battle had commenced and the crowd loved it, they clapped to the beat and cheered as I turned (and did not fall over, thank goodness there is no alcohol at an Afghan wedding). I had taken the initiative and was determined not to relinquish it, the beat continued to boom out, the high voiced singer pitched to new heights and I launched into a move all the way across the dance floor, crossing my legs and uncrossing them as I went, arms switching in synchronicity with my feet, I closed my eyes and was back there in Broomfield circa 1970's, the beat was Bee Gees, the high voice was Barry Gibb, John Travolta was running through my veins, nothing could could stop me now (if only I had a jacket to throw off). I opened my eyes and there in front of me was my black leather coated adversary stalking me (if you don't believe me, look at the picture carefully, you will see a man in black leather coat facing me across the dance floor, we were the only 2 dancing and everyone was watching us), he twisted, he turned, he waved his arms, but he had nothing new to throw at JT, this was to be my victory, I just had to stay there in the 70s, no fear, no hesitation, no quarter given, I was dancing for the Empire and it was to be a dance to the death. As the time ticked by I began to tire the swift turns and twists across the expanse of the dancefloor were taking there toll. My younger adversary began to sense his comeback was about to begin, he moved in closer to intimidate and to test my resolve and then.............. the beat stopped, the music finished, the Hall went quiet, I had made it to the end, and the Hall erupted into applause and two worthy and sweaty opponents embraced each other, the gaunlet had been picked up, brushed down and firmly worn, the challenge had been met, equalled and then surpassed. Ceroc classes were never like this!!

After that we sat and chatted for a while, then made our apologies and left, walking out, heads held high.

We never saw the bride, or a single woman, but the groom did come to visit us, who he married we shall never know.

During the reign of the Taleban dancing and music were strictly prohibited. This could never have happened under their rule. I am told the man on the left of the photo taking a picture, with the scarf over his shoulder and the little hat on is a Taleb. I wonder what he made of it all!!!

shopping

2007-11-12T17:11:00.000Z

Hello one and all,

I am assuming you are both still there, although I have had no comments for nearly a month, so maybe I am talking to myself, which, frankly, is not really anything new.

I went carpet shopping on Friday so I thought I would give you a slice of Kabul life. Me and two other housemates went to a carpet seller that is well known to us as a good chap and all round reasonably priced carpet seller.

In the centre of Kabul is a street called Flower Street, which is by a street called Butchers Street, which is by a street called Chicken Street (I think you get the idea). Well, as it would happen, halfway down Chicken Street is an entrance to a courtyard which is surrounded on all sides by a block of flats. In effect, the courtyard (what we called at school, a Quad). The flats on the first floor are all shops, some of which are carpet shops, so we trotted off to see our favoured carpet seller.

The shop was like an Aladdin's cave, carpets on the floor, carpets on the walls and piles all around of neatly folded carpets.

We explained what sort of carpets we are looking for (there are an amazing array of different styles from different places) and he proceeded to go through the piles and would select ones that matched our description and would pull this out and lay on the floor in front of us. Of course, by this time we had also been given our obligatory cup of tea, whilst we sat on a sofa to look at the wares. As the pile in front of us grew, if you particularly liked a carpet it was put to one side. After about 45 minutes we had a pile more than knee deep in front of us of carpets laid one on top of the other. Each carpet you would say, "what type of carpet is this" and the answer would be, "oh this is a Kunduz/Hazara/Persian/Iranian/Herat and so on, carpet. All the carpets are hand made and beautiful, particularly the silk carpets from Iran which shimmer in the light and change colour depending on where you are looking at it from.

Anyway, I did buy a carpet, a rather fine Hazara carpet. The word Hazar is Dari for One Thousand. The word Hazara is the name given to the people who live in Central Afghanistan in an area of Baglan that is pretty difficult to get to. They are the direct descendants of a 1000 man garrison left there by Genghis Khan (so I am told) and I have one of their carpets. Thank goodness I paid!

Till the next time.

Icons of Kabul Life

2007-11-09T04:39:00.000Z

At last, I have worked out this picture thingy.

After much dithering your blogger has finally found out how to shrink a photo to a size that will fit on the blog. SO here it is a picture of our house in Kabul!

Yes, this really is a "good" neighbourhood of Kabul, we are not badly off compared to most of the residents of the city. More than 60% of the "houses" in Kabul are illegally built. More than 3 million refugees have returned to the city and it is bursting, so people build a mud brick house wherever they can find a piece of land. Now Kabul, s at 1800m high and sits in a plain surrounded by mountains. Most of the illegal houses are literally perched on the hillsides, made of mud brick, have no water, electricity or gas supply. Everything is carried up the mountainside to the "house". Any ruined building will have tatty tarpaulins around a devastated room and people will be living in there, in tents, literally anything.

Ah, I hear you ask, what are the icons of Kabul life, well we have three in this picture which are very common sites here in Kabul and probably unusual where you are.
1) The armoured car. This Nissan Patrol weighs 4 tonnes, has armour plating beneath and the doors etc around the people bit. This makes the doors very heavy and difficult to open and close. It also has bullet/blast proof glass all round.
2) The armed guard outside our house, these are also the guards who travel ith us and, you will remember, went to the zoo with me.
3)The woman wearing the Burkha, covered from head to toe with just a grill to see throgh. Now I hope you may understand my humour at watching these ladies trying to eat a picnic in the zoo.

Oh yes, if you click on the photo it will enlarge. The big window at teh top with the bars on it, thats my bedroom. My view on the world!!

My next treat for you is, I hope, a piccie of demining in action.

Today I am off to buy a carpet, inshallah. Will let you know how it goes.

my little table

2007-11-04T16:20:00.000Z

No major happening here folks, just a quick story about, well not much really.

Now last week, my little world that is amazingly narrow was brightened up with a moment that will seem trivial and irrelevant to you, but was a heartwarming moment for me.

You see, in my room in the house is a desk and chair, a bed and a cupboard, and really not much else. it is from the desk and chair I sit and pen these missives to you.

So last week, there I was in the Finance Office, doing financy sorts of things and chatting to my assistant (Najib) that it would be really good if I had a little bedside table to put my torch, book and glasses on when I go to bed.

Well that evening when I went to put my bag in the back of the car to go home, there in the back is a little bedside table that had been made in the carpentry workshop that afternoon. I asked the driver what it was doing there and he told me "Mr. Najib, tell carpenter to make table for you"

Aargh, aren't some people just plain decent folks.

There, just a short story to warm the cockles of your heart.

The battle of the Jalalabad Road

2007-11-03T16:50:00.000Z

Greetings one and all, today a story steeped in Kabul with no meanderings or wanderings involved, just straight Kabul talk!

For those of you who have been following my scribblings for a while you will know that the Jalalabad Road is also called "Suicide Alley" due to the number of suicide bombers we get along here. However, without tempting fate, I would say that nothing untoward has happened for a few weeks now so that is good news.

The battle of Jalalabad Road has nothing to do with suicide bombers or any violence, just a touch of anarchy that I find amusing, irritating and in the end am a little envious of.

A doctor I know recently said " driving is still the preferred pastime of the Afghan who wishes to end his life prematurely". I found this a wonderfully colourful and rather convoluted way of saying there is almost no discipline involved in driving in Kabul.

If the traffic on the dual carriageway is slow, then go over to the other carriageway and simply drive the wrong way down it, if it is too far to go round the roundabout then simply cut straight across the corner, overtaking, undertaking, copious use of the horn and the flashing of lights are mandatory and whatever you do, NEVER wait for a gap in the traffic when pulling out of a side turning. Just pull out.

A short time here makes you realise just how disciplined driving in the Western world is. We can be stopped by a red light, we can be directed by a white line painted on the road, without question and yet the white line has no real power, only our respect for it and what it stands for. Which brings me to the battle of the Jalalabad Road.

You see, as I said earlier the Jalalabad Road is a dual carriageway with a divide in the middle about 6 feet wide and a high kerb on either side to create the divide. All along the road are a number of compounds, offices etc.

So, if this was in, shall we say, Sheffield, any vehicle that wanted to go to a compound on the other side of the road would go to the next junction turn round and come back down the other carriageway to the place they wanted to go and turn in. But not in Kabul, every day more and more kerbstones get knocked over and put across the central gap as paving to make a turning point straight into the compound they want to go to. We had almost reached the point where there was more gap that kerbing, which created complete anarchy as everyone was able to cross everywhere!!

So for the last few weeks the authorities have been re-cementing the kerbs back in place every day and the people have been knocking them back down, and so the battle of the Jalalabad Road has continued. However a new tactic has been employed and the authorities are finally winning. They re-cement the kerbstones in and then fill the gap with soil about 18 inches deep making a small bank in between. So now if the kerbs are much more difficult to knock down and you still have to get the vehicle up over the bank. So once again the authorities are winning.

So, like I say, this anarchy has been really irritating when you try to get down the dual carriageway and there are lorries and cars turning every 50 yards, at the same time is is amusing to see the war of attrition going on between the Ministry of Traffic and the drivers and ultimately, I have a grudging respect for this complete lack of reverence for the authorities and their attempt to improve the traffic chaos that is Kabul. To the Afghan driver it is quite simple: "I want to go there and that is where I shall go, by the quickest, shortest and straightest route regardless of any consequent inconvenience or danger that may be caused to myself or others"

So there you have it, a snippet of life in Kabul.

I still haven't told you about my table, you must be on tenterhooks wondering what it could possibly be.

Pirate for an hour

2007-11-01T16:30:00.001Z

Good day to you all,

Today, I wish to share with you an experience that is not Kabul based, but happened this week and was important to me. This may be a trip down memory lane for some, I know some of you were more involved than others with the Pirates off our coasts, some of you will simply be wondering what on earth I am going on about!

You see, growing up in Kent in the 60's and then more so as a teenager in the 70's we had the joy of the Pirate radio stations off our shores. I was too young for the early Pirates, the Big L, Radio London and the like and came to it more in the late 60's, early 70's. In those days we listened to stations on Medium Wave (AM as it is now known) and stations had wavelengths instead of frequencies. Laser on 558. Caroline on 259 and so on.

As teenagers, myself and the Macrae brothers were avid listeners. After the UK Marine Offences Act the Pirates moved to be based in Holland and we mainly listened to RNI (Radio Northsea International) and another less well known station Radio Atlantis and of course, Radio Caroline. In 1974, the Dutch too passed a Marine Offences Act and the Pirates were finally silenced. I remember a group of boys sat around a small transistor radio in the South Quad at school, frantically trying to keep tuned to the signal listening to the final broadcast of RNI as it closed down at, I think, 11am. The next class after morning break began at 11am and we all trudged into class late, a tear in our eyes as a piece of our lives were silenced forever. I still remember the last record played was "The Long and Winding Road".

However, one station defied all, both the Dutch and British Governments and continued to broadcast from the Ross Revenge. The Mother of them all, Radio Caroline vowed to continue and throughout this period we listened to the likes of Stevie Merike, Tony Allen and Andy Archer on scratchy transistor radios, records sometimes jumping all over the place as a storm tossed the ship on the ocean (no CDs, just good old vinyl records). Frequently we would send postcards to the Spanish address with requests. In fact, somewhere in a cupboard is a book I kept of the top 40's. Every week, me and the Macrae bros would sit in their playroom and listen to the top 40 and record it in a book for prosterity.

So upset were we on the day the oher stations cloed down, me and John got a boat to Zeebrugge the next day , then got a bus to Schevenigen, slept in a bus shelter overnight and then saw the Radio Atlantis boat brought into harbour for the last time, and watched as Customs officers supervised the welding shut of the doors as the boat was impounded. (Not bad for a couple of 16yr olds). We had no idea what we were doing, but we HAD to be there!!! It was what I would call an event and we had to witness it.

Now where is all this waffle leading you may ask and what has it to do with Kabul 2007. Well, Radio Caroline is still broadcasting, now from studios in Maidstone on the internet and on Sky channel 0199 (so give it a listen!!)

From 9am to 10am every morning they broadcast a Top 15 sent in by a listener. Well, I sent mine in from dusty Kabul a few weeks ago and on Wednesday Oct 31st they broadcast it. So after more than 30 years I got to choose the music on Radio Caroline for a whole hour, I was a "Pirate for an hour".

The wonders of the internet, from postcards that took weeks to go to Spain and then finally arrive on a ship out in the North Sea to instant internet access from Kabul, Afghanistan. A dream come true for me, a true event as far as I am concerned.

What would that teenager in the 70's have thought if you had told him 30 years later he would choose not just a request, but a whole hour and top 15 on Radio Caroline, and send it from Afghanistan!!

I think thats worth a drink.

Next time, the "Battle of the Jalalabad Road" or "Anarchy on the streets"

we're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo

2007-10-30T14:41:00.001Z

Here I am once again, feeling as fit as a fiddle with no strings, with a new tale of thrills and spills in downtown Kabul.

On Friday, I went to the zoo. Well, me and my driver and my armed guard went to the zoo for a day (well, an hour) out. A fine time was had by all. Actually my plan was to visit the Kabul museum and this cultural event was something I was looking forward to, but I am sorry to report it is closed on Friday, so please if you are thinking of going next Friday - DON'T, it ain't open.

But all was not lost Zabi, pointed out the zoo as we passed it on the way to the museum and so that was our target now.

We parked up outside and headed off to the ticket booth. 10Afs each, oh except the khoragi (thats us foreigners) 100Afs to me. (Ok that is a whole £1). Off the three of us trotted. The question is, where should your armed guard be, beside you, in front of you or behind you. Well, I thought he was behind me, but when I turned round he had disappeared. Apparently gone off to the loo. For a full two minutes I was at the mercy of any Taleban snatch squads that happened to be patrolling Kabul zoo. Actually part of the reason I went to Kabul zoo was because every khoragi I told I was going to the zoo said "why would you want to go there" and no-one had been. So I thought it would be a good place to go and mingle with Afghans instead of endless expats. And so it was, which also makes it a very safe place. If you were looking for Khoragi to kidnap or kill, you really would not hang around the zoo!!!!!

I digress (one of my big regrets is not getting a piccie of me and guard at the monkey house). Anyway, we went round the zoo, there were a number of bears, monkeys,various birds including some huge owls, an aquarium, gazelles and a collection of ducks (Mallards and Aylesburys) It made me quite homesick for Lane End pond.

So we had a good wander round and enjoyed the animals. I will say it will not win any awards for the pens etc the animals are in, but they are not anywhere near as bad as I expected, particularly considering the area it is in and the devastation all around it. Yes, there are parts of the zoo you have to climb over the rubble to get round, and a lot of concrete in the pens, but these are difficult circumstances. The animals are certainly better off than many of the people I have seen here.

However, the animals were not the real entertainment.You see the zoo, like most zoos is full of families, Mums, Dads and children and many of them were having picnics. This seems pretty straightforward until you realise the women are wearing the obligatory Burkhas. This covers them from the head down to the feet with a fine mesh grill to see through, and no mouth hole. So food disappears up under the Burkha, not sure what happens then!!

When we got back to the house there was the tinkling of the ice cream man walking down the road with his ice cream barrel. This was too much of a chance to miss, so I treated Zabi, the guard and the guard outside the house to ice creams. He opened the barrel and it was full of Magnums.!!!! Exactly the same as at home but a bit smaller and only 30p. Oh yes and they were almost melted. We all had one, mine almost slipped off the stick and I had to devour it in one mouthful, one of the guards opened the packet and it just fell off onto the floor. He complained and the mother of all arguments raged for the next 5 mins. The ice cream seller became completely irate and would not even SELL us another ice cream let alone replace the fallen one. Eventually he stomped of deliberatley running his cart over the ice cream on the floor to prove some sort of point.

So there it was, a day with the Afghans. Great fun.

Ask me about my new bedside table, there is another story that will show you how bored I am!!!

Istanbul

2007-10-23T17:50:00.000+01:00

Now, where was I?

As you know I arrived in Istanbul 3 hours early and Sarah 1 hour late, so in total I was at Istanbul airport 6 hours waiting. Not so bad, there is even (and Clair you will be pleased to know this) a Starbucks and a Burger King in Istanbul airport. However, a 6 hour wait was not what my deteriorating bowels required.

So to conclude this chapter without further details I can say that I spent my first 24hours in Istanbul in bed for all the wrong reasons!

Istanbul is a wonderful place where East meets West, Asia meets Europe, Islam meets Christianity. The city is part in Europe and part in Asia, split by the Bosphorous with its great Russian container ships and tankers plying their way up to the Black Sea. Of course, in the days of the cold war, Istanbul was also a place of great intrigue where the West could monitor the movements of the Soviet fleet in and out of its only accesible winter ports on the Black Sea.

We visited the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Topkapi Palace as well as a delightful rooftop restaurant and a magical trip by boat across the Bosphorous to Asia for a lovely restaurant one evening.

The visit was over too quickly and time to head back to the airport. Now you will, of course, remember I arrived early and had a 6 hour wait. SO it is only right that I would depart late (delayed from 11pm to 1am, the next morning) and again have the pleasure of Istanbul airport for a full 8 hours rest and relaxation.

The plane back to Kabul was the same plane as the one I arrived on. This time I declined all offers of food and tried to sleep the whole way back, arriving at 7am, just in time for work!! Oh yes, did I tell you the back half of the plane was occupied by about 20 blokes all in pairs handcuffed together with guards at front and back!!

I can't tell what how good it felt to be back in Kabul, I can't tell you because it didn't!!! But here I am again folks.

Tomorrow I shall tell you of the "Great Security Breach", oh, and Clair, I will tell you more about shopping in Downtown Kabul!!!

Escape to Istanbul

2007-10-20T15:57:00.000+01:00

You may think that a title like "Escape to Istanbul" is just a tad dramatic, but believe me, that is exactly how it felt. I shall relate the intrepid story of derring-do and you can judge for yourself.

So, here we are; it is 4.30am all is quiet in Kabul, it is pitch black and the alarm goes off. The driver is coming at 5am and my flight is at 7am, what could possibly go wrong. I packed last night, I even had a little present stashed away in my bag, all I need is a "sh.., shower and shave" and I shall be on my way. One small but important point, no make that two small, but important points. We have no electricity and we have no water, making all 3 of the above rather less than attractive. I am sorry but this toilet thing will crop up again in this post.

So we head off to the airport which is closed until 5.30am and join a long and rather noisy queue on the approach road. Once we start moving we come to the first army checkpoint which appears to only exist for the annoyance of passengers. They peer into the car, then knock on the window. We open the door (you can't wind down windows in armoured cars) and the say "Eid, Mubarak" (Happy Eid) and hold out their hands. We then proceed to the first police checkpoint where I have to get out of the vehicle and carry the bags into a hut where they go through a scanner. The nice man who scans the bag then puts out his hand and says "Eid Mubarak". I pick up my bag and return to the vehicle where a soldier blocks my way and points me back to the hut. I return to the hut and we go through the same ritual. Finally, I am allowed back into the vehicle and we drive on, until we reach the car park. I then leave the car and driver and walk towards the airport building. To get out of the car park I have to show my passport and ticket to another policeman who says, well you know what he says, don't you?

I then walk across from the car park to the terminal building where there are soldiers outside. I show them my passport and ticket, they look at my bags and thrust out a hand and say.....

Once I have passed them I go to the emigration desk where I have to pay 500Afs to leave the country. No problem, except for the soldier who is standing next to the office who thrusts out his hand and says....

Slowly we are making progress. To get to the check-in desk it is necessary to go through a security check of bags and persons which is carried out with the customary greeting and hand offering. At check-in there is a nice man who puts my bag on the check in scales to our now familiar and customary greeting. Having finally got rid of my bags I head for the departure gate. I will not bore with even yet more details, but suffice to say I passed two more police desks and finally got to passport control. This was manned by a gentleman that took so long over each passport that I timed him. (Yes I realise that is a bit sad, but I was getting a little irritated at this point). He took 7, yes seven, minutes to scrutinise my passport, tap his keyboard, wave my passport in front of some mysterious machine and finally stamp it and wave me through. However, things were about to rather significantly speed up!!

Even though the flight was due to leave at 7am and we did not leave until 7.50am. Ariana Afghan Airlines managed to get me to Istanbul 3 HOURS EARLY. This could be due to incredible high tail winds, a fantastic new super fast plane or simply that we were supposed to fly to Baku and Ankara on the way. But instead we went straight to Istanbul and cut out all that fiddling about. Suited me fine, but really upset the people who wanted to go to Baku and Ankara!! So I arrived 3 hours early. Meanwhile, Sarah travelling on intrepid, super reliable, worlds favourite airline, British Airways arrived 1 hour late!!! I note just a hint of irony in that.

Now, I may be 3 hours early and I can hear you cheer this small victory, but of course, it was not all plain sailing (or should that be plane flying!!)

The plane was a very early Airbus 300. Apparently it was given to Afghan Airlines by the Indian Government because Pakistan had given Afghanistan a fleet of buses and India did not want to be outdone!! I don't think anything had been fixed or cleaned on this plane for years, it was foul, but it flew, took off well, made a good landing and got me there and back, so I am happy, but you just knew there would be a story attached!!

I don't know whether it was the plane meal or something else, but within an hour of taking off I was heading for the toilet with, shall we say, loose bowels.

There is no toilet paper in the loo, the door does not lock and I am trying to hover over the toilet without any physical contact. Next thing I know there is banging on the door and shouting from outside from the crew. The smoke alarm has gone off for some reason and the crew think I am having a crafty smoke. So now, if you can imagine the scene, I am trying to hover above the seat and direct my loose bowel movements into the bowl, jam one foot against the door to stop it bursting open from the banging outside, hold my trousers up from falling onto the floor into the wet underfoot and tear up the cardboard centre of the remains of the toilet roll!! (Is this too much detail?). Anyway, to cut a long story to medium, the alarm stopped, the banging on the door stopped and something approaching sanity resumed.

On that note, I too shall resume tomorrow, with happy tales of Istanbul.

Ramadan, Eid and Beggars.

2007-10-19T14:19:00.000+01:00

Where have you been?

You may well ask of your intrepid blogger who, frankly, has been leading such a boring life in Kabul that I ran out of things to say.

BUT, you wil be pleased to know I escaped the prison, sneaked off to Istanbul for a weekend and now, returned, sit before you revived, refreshed, half a stone lighter (I will come to that, but you are warned it is not pretty) and full to bursting point with old tat and nonsense. So, are you sitting comfortably?

First, I want to get out of my system to squash court situation. As you both know there is only one squash court in the whole of Kabul and this is the concrete walled and floored court at UNICA. Now, I realise that it could be argued that a bad squash court is better than no squash court, but this one has a floor as slippery as a icew rink on a slippery day AND membership s $60 per month. Even at $2 to the £1 that is £30 per month to play squash on an ice rink, PLUS $8 court fee. I ask you is that fair, is that reasonable, is that humanitarian, is that a UN rip off!! No wonder they have such huge expenses accounts, that is nearly half my monthly allowance.

Let us wind the clock back two weeks to the last week of Ramadan. Ramadan, I am sure you all know is the Moslem month of fasting from sunrise to sunset. At the end of Ramadan is the festival of Eid, which is similar to the Christian Christmas. Families get together, lots of food is eaten, presents are swapped and everyone is happy for 3 days. So, as Eid is a holiday I had arranged to meet Sarah in Istanbul, her flying in from London and me from Kabul. We had arranged flights so I arrived 1 hour before her at Istanbul International, but I am getting ahead of myself here.

The week before Eid, I went shopping in downtown Kabul with my trusty assistant Dr. Najeeb as guide and chief adviser on the cost of stuff. Anyway we went shopping to get a pressie for Sarah. Dr. N was so sweet, as he insisted on buying her a present as well. Anyway, I digress. As you can imagine there are a lot of beggars in Kabul, and as always some more deserving than others, so I checked with Dr. N and the going rate is 10-20 Afghanis is a reasonable contribution. (For comparison, bread is 3Afs so 20Afs represents nearly 7 pieces). This all went well, although begging is very aggressive. As I got back into the car a woman positioned herself in the door of the car, stopping me from closing the door until I paid up, so I gave her 20Afs. She looked at it, screwed her face up, shouted at me, tore it up and threw it on the floor in front of me. I closed the door and we drove off.

That evening was the end of Ramadan and the night bfore Eid. In Kabul, there are only 2 bars with alcohol. Many restaurants where you need to have a meal but only 2 bars where you can simply get a drink. Fortunately, one of them is about 500 yards away in the next street. Now, I have told you before about how dark it is and that the electricity goes off and anyway there are no street lights and there are high walls everywhere and it is very quiet on the streets and that we are supposed to travel everywhere in armoured cars and not walk anywhere for fear of kidnap and being shot/blown up. So when we walk round the corner to the bar it is quite an adventure, especially if a taxi slows down beside you to see if you need a ride and you cannot see if it is a taxi or a kidnapper. Anyway, it adds some spice to a very boring existance. The point of this story is that to celebrate Eid people let off firecrackers. Now this would be OK, except that it is very nerve wracking when you walk round the corner in the dark and people drop firecrackers from balconies above you so they go off right behind you. Curiously, Afghans seem to think it is funny!!There I got to the point in the end.

Well, I seem to have written quite a lot and not got to the excitement of the trip to Istanbul, so I will hold that back for you.

Will write again soon.

I know you are desperate to know

2007-10-01T12:15:00.001+01:00

You are, aren't you, go on admit it, you didn't sleep last night. You began to drift off then that niggling in the back of your mind started again and woke you up. Just as that soft, warm feeling of being enveloped by the quilt and you begin to sink into the mattress, just as the pillow softly hugs your head BANG!!! there it is again. Has the bloody embassy got a squash court on not.

Thanks for your solidarity dear reader, I am sorry I caused you so much worry leaving such an important thread hanging in the air. Well to put your mind at rest, the nice, polite man at the gate, he say No, we have no sports facilities. Now I am not sure I believe him, so I will try again. In the meantime you will also be saddened to know there are no Old Germans at the Old German Club as it has been turned into the Maple Leaf Inn, and no there is no squash court. So, we still have the concrete edifice that is UNICA.

There all is well in the world again and calm is resumed. Hope you sleep well tonight, I will.

Till the next time.

its been a week where is the blogger?

2007-09-30T03:53:00.000+01:00

Yes,
I can hear the cries of anguish from across the ocean as my loyal band of reader logs in every day to find......nothing.
Now there is a very good reason for this, I may be in Kabul, I may be working for a mine clearing agency but..........accountancy is boring, wherever you are. In fact, I have made up a joke: What is the difference between accountancy in Canterbury and accountancy in Kabul.................one is comfortable and boring the other is uncomfortable and boring!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OK, it is not really a joke, but I am working on it.
SO what is occupying my mind currently on this Sunday morning. First, Friday our DAY OFF and this time I was not sick, so me and Nick (he is ex-UK army and is expert in bomb disposal) went to the ISAF HQ after breakfast. Those of you who are keeping up with the achromyms will know that ISAF is the International Security Assistance Force which is a cuddly name for the poor guys who are in places like Helmand fighting the Taleb. Anyway once we were through the inevitable security we went for a stroll around their encampment, had a nice cup of real coffee on the pizza bar terrace and then had a look around the shops. I bought the ultimate luxury of a bottle of mouthwash, but some of the items on sale were, to say the least unusual, including a vast array of large knives. Now, I realise none of you know Nick, but I am sure you all know a naughty boy who has to pick up and fiddle with anything that is in the shop, well that is Nick. Literally everything had to be handled. (Like a woman in a clothes shop, nothing can be passed without being touched!!!! ;-) )
To cut a long story to medium, in the end he bought a throwing knife. Oh yes, one last thing about ISAF, a sign that "tickled my fancy" Obviously there are a lot of people wandering around with guns etc. Outside the bar 'limit of one beer when carrying firearms' Now, how comforting is that!!!!!
So, back to the house where we are having an extension built. SO we set up a bag of cement on a pile of sand and practiced our circus knife throwing skills. He were complete pants, frequently not even hitting the pile of sand let alone the bag of cement. In the end there were three of us, managing roughly one hit in 10 throws. Curiously Rachel would not agree to hold a balloon in her teeth for us!!!!
It was a warm and sunny day, (Hot is now gone as we are heading towards the beginning of autumn). In fact, only 2 weeks ago I need the fan on the keep me cool to sleep, now I have a blanket on my bed. So a pleasant afternoon was rounded off, sitting in the garden reading a book.
To finish the day, our big, boss man from Scotland arrived and we headed out to a Thai restaurant for dinner where I had a very fine yellow vegetable curry with coconut.
That's almost all folks as Saturday was a work day. You all know by now my ritual of following the mighty addicks on the teletext on Saturday evening, but after that a bit if a result. I have a info sheet that says there are squash courts at; the British Embassy, the UNICA guest house, the Intercontinental hotel and the 'old German Club' so last night we went on an expedition. First up the intercontinental hotel - no courts, next the British Embassy where the following conversation took place - "are you British?" - "yes" - "I am sorry, sir but the embassy closes at 7, could you come back tomorrow" - "thank you, and if I was not British?" Puzzled look from security guard, but there is hope!! Next stop UNICA guest house, result they have a court, OK it is four yellow painted concrete walls with a beige painted concrete floor, but it looked like a squash court and felt like a squash court, therefore it IS a squash court. The bad news, there was a sign on the wall saying the Kabul squash championship was last weekend and cancelled due to a lack of entrants, IT COULD HAVE BEEN ME!!!!!!!!
I will search out the old German club tonight and return to the British Embassy before close tonight.
That's all folks!!!!

my tummy hurts!!!

2007-09-22T16:12:00.000+01:00

Once again dear readers, I put metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper to fill you in on the latest in downtown Kabul.

You have probably guessed from the title that your humble scribe and hero has been down with a bit of tummy trouble. As is always the case, or so it seems, on the one day off we get, I am a sick bunny. I will not indulge you with the details, but sufice to say I spent nearly all of Friday in bed. I was only brought round by a large bottle of coke to kill the bugs and a large bar of chocolate to give me the energy to bring back the "will to live".

So that makes today a Saturday and a work day. Off I went this morning and spent the day locked in my office with my team of finance assistants keeping the books and doing accounting sort of stuff. All I can say is "monty Python was spot on". Acountancy is boring, boring, boring. Tomorrow is the monthly programme meeting where we discuss where we are with the projects, donors etc. It is boring but I am looking forward to it because boring is a great improvement on boring, boring, boring.

While I am writing this I am switching to the BBC text service to follow on the "updated every 2 minutes" screen the progress of the mighty CAFC. We are 2-0 up against Leicester, but I remember last week we were 0-2 and drew 2-2 so anything can happen (particularly in the 2 minute gaps!!!) Now I have lost my thread.

What I set out to tell you was about Kabul. I thought I would try to describe it to you as best I can. Only the main roads are tarmaced, with all side streets being dirt tracks. Along the side of each street is a concrete gulley that is about a foot wide and deep. This is somewhere you should never go as most of the houses water waste feeds into this. I dont think the toilets do, but the baths/sinks etc appear to. Everywhere there is building going on with piles of cement, sand/dirt, bricks and rubble dumped all around. walking can be a bit hazardous.

The Afghans are big fans of walls. In the city every house is surrounded by a tall wall, or a wall of the house faces the street with no windows and runs into the wall of the house next door with just a mall doorway or a drive with a large, impeneterable gate. Even the villages are like little mud walled citadels with only a solid mud wall facing the outside world and a small alley between the houses.

The Afghans do not really venture out at night, and with no street lights the street are dark and gloomy. The odd car will go by and light up the way, but generally you have to tread very carefully to miss the holes, piles and gutters.

Well the game has finished with a 2-0 win, so I will quit whilst I am ahead. Take care. "I'll be back".

veggie heaven

2007-09-16T16:49:00.000+01:00

Hello again my faithful congregation, I trust you are all well and the sun is shining in your world, wherever it may be.

As you can see from the title and the first line your humble scribe and soothsayer is in a good mood this hot, sweaty and frankly, smelly evening (I need a shower).

Yesterday, I regaled you with the workings of the household and extolled the virtues of the cook who had created a delightful soup and veggie bake. This evening after another hard days graft (6am to 5pm) and fasting, I come home, open the fridge and lo; ALL the dishes are veggie. Now this has gone down a storm with yours truly, but my carnivorous buddies are slightly on the down side of underwhelmed. We have veggie soup, veggie pizza, veggie lasagne and salad. Oh joy, Oh joy, there is a GOD!!!. (Sorry God, I am sure you have more important thing to worry about than our fridge).

Talking of more important things, how about that trip to a minefield you promised us days ago, I hear you cry (you see, I am even hearing voices now!!!). So I shall continue, for those who are keeping up, you will remember I described the village in "A Week In The Life" so I wil not bore you again. We drove out to the village along a track. When I say track I simply mean that in the past people had picked a route across the ground avoiding the biggest lumps, bumps and dips. In was a very uncomfortable journey in a 4 ton land rover. It was during this jpourney we were discussing what a great mountain bike route it would make (Full suspension, obviously), more fun, more comfortable and probably quite a bit quicker. Anyway, I digress. A minefield is a piece of land that is suspected (with good reason) of having landmines. The areas mined are usualy known to the local people as they saw them laid and they have lost people and livestock, so they generally will know the areas to check. This may mean a single or double row of mines are somewhere in a field or across a gulley or round a hilltop where there was a gun post, but no-one is sure so everyone stays away and field does not get ploughed, the shepherd cannot take his flock on the hill etc. The minefield is a weird place. The deminers work on their knees with a metal detector and inch forward in a 1 metre wide corridor. As soon as they detect metal they have to go back 10cms and then dig down. Once down to 15cms they then begin to dig slowly forward to come to the mine from the side. If you touch the top in any way, it will explode. Once they have uncovered the side of the mine, it is identified then destroyed in situ. Usually the metal detector reading will just be a piece of metal, or an old bullet etc, but sometimes! While we were there for just about 2 hours, 5 mines were found and exploded all within 500 yards of the houses . In the background you could hear the children playing in the school, soon they will be able to play in the fields around their homes. The minefield is marked by stones painted half red and half white, NEVER walk on the red side of the stones, this is uncleared. Wherever a mine is found a green stone is put in the place it was found to show where the mines were laid and tr to establish a pattern.

So to try to put it into a Western context this is what happens. Our country is invaded and the town we live in is the front line of a battle. We leave and head to family and friends somewhere else in the country. Eventually after 3 or 4 years we come home. The people in our street who stayed through it tell us that our street was a front line and mines were laid. We know we can walk alng the path into our front door, but can we go in the garden, can we cut the grass, can we deviate of any path that has not been trodden by someone else. Where can I take the dog for a walk. What about the park, or around the pond. Then you hear someone has been blown up in the next street even though "peace" has apparently come. This is how the Afghans have lived now since the fall of the Taleban. Many of the mines date back to the Soviet invasion in the 1980's. Thats a long time to live in fear of the very ground you walk on.

Might sneak downstairs for another look at the goodies in the fridge, Oh joy.

Take care.

2-2

2007-09-15T17:10:00.000+01:00

2-2 away to Colchester, the mighty reds just can't stop..............crawling slowly up the table.

I have just read through my last posting and the spelling is awful, I am sure there is something wrong with this keyboard!

Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you it was the third day of Ramadan today and the first workday, so I thought I would see how it felt, so I had nothing to eat or drink all day until we got home this evening and the sun had gone down, then I guzzled a cold can of 7Up with great relish. Made another fine dinner of soup and the veggie dish.

What a segway, I could have been a DJ, the way I subtly lured you into my veggie story.Let me explain the eating arrangements here in the house, in fact let me explain the house. We have 4 bedrooms and 2 bathroms in the house, 3 beds and a bath upstairs and then downstairs we have 1 bed, 1 bath, 1 lounge, a kitchen and a dining room. Rachel has the room and bathroom downstairs, three of us healthy lads are upstairs and then there are two more men in the bedrooms in the garden annexe. We are also building two more rooms in the garden for extra guests. Did I tell you one of the guys in the annexe stepped on a scorpion in his room the other night, lucky he had his slippers on. You see, all you tough guys out there, slippers can save your life!!

We have a big fridge and a cook comes in every other day, cooks meals and leaves them in the fridge and we can help ourselves. However, the only thing non meat in the fridge for the first week was salad and chocolate, so I became a bit of a salad fiend, (might have eaten a square or two of choccie as well) but this week we have had a rather yummy soup which I can only describe as Spicy Parsnip and a baked veggie dish, all rather yummy after a long days fasting. Not sure if I can keep this up, but I will give it a go.

Finally, we come to the minefields, oh and a discussion on why mountain bikes are much more fun than land rovers, so we shall have to visit that next time. To all those in The Row, hope all is well and village life goes on as normal. You know, I wish I had a picture of our water pump. None of the Afghans here believe we get our water from a water pump in the back garden. I may have missed the small detail of the piped water as well, but hey, why should facts get in the way of a good story!!! What I need is a picture of Jill filing her bucket, now that would get them all thinking!!!!!!

Have I told you that when I go to the ISAF HQ (they have the sexy cash machine), my guard has to wait outside in the street. I mean how unfair is that, we are slightly outgunned if we picked a fight!!!!

I defy anyone to find a spelling mitsake in this episode.

I think next time we should discuss "So what is humanitarian about Mine Action" Thats what we call it by the way, HMA, Humanitarian Mine Action.

BFN

teletext

2007-09-15T16:32:00.000+01:00

Hello again dear reader,
Well it is Saturday evening or afternoon to those of you in the UK and I am sitting here trying to folow the antics of the mighty Reds (thats Charlton for the uninitiated) and it is proving very frustratng. Radio 5 Live and Radio London both tell me they cannot broadcast the current programme ie Sportreports outside the UK so I am left watching teletext Hang on I will switch over and see how we are doing. We were losing 1-2 when I last looked. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah, Zeng Zhi,Our plucky little Chineseman has just equalised, oh joy, oh joy, loks like we are at least as good as the incredibly fantastic Colchester!!!! I a sure we will come back to this before the end of this update. I think I shall become Kabul Addick!!

Anyway, where was I, minefields Ice cream men and veggies, oh yes and my new room.

Yesterday afternoon, I went for a stroll around the local streets to see what happens at the weekend. It was very quiet indeed, but there were little groups of children al flying kites in the street. Just made out of some plastic or paper and a wooden frame. I stayed and watched for a while, very serene, very peaceful and a joy to watch. While I was idling away my time a man came by puling a cart with onions and potatoes on it and people would come out there houses and buy from him, then another man came along pulling a cart with firewood. But then the "piece de resistance" a mancame by selling ice cream. Now those of you "of a certain age" will remember on a Sunday afternoon when the ice cream van would come round and play a tune in the street and we children would run out to get an ice cream for pudding for Sunday lunch. (This was before everyone had a freezer and ice cream was a real once a week treat). Well that is exactly what happened yesteray, picture the scene, some small children playing with tehir kites in the middle of the street andthe ice cream man comes along puling the ice cream cart playing a tune as he goes by. He stops and then, like the pied piper doors all along the street open and children come running out. I picture straight from my childhood, obviously except for the dust and the man pulling a cart instead of driving a van!
Also yesterday afternoon I moved into my own room and I have to say it was good to finally get unpacked and setled in. I have been sharing Rachels room so far (OK, she is in Scotland!!!!) My new room is very spacious and even has a set of speakers to plug into my PC to listen to music on, so I am happy with al these developments. I overlok the street outside and peek out from behind the curtains and watch the goings on. They are building a new house up the road and a pile of bricks has beend umped in the street. i was watching one man stand at the bottom of the pile throw the bricks to a man standing on the top of the pile who then throws them one at a time to a man standing on the first floor who is piling them up.

Right, we still have minefields and veggie food to cover, dont hold your breath, I wil get round to it.
Take care.

A week in the life!

2007-09-14T13:56:00.000+01:00

Hello reader, one and all, how are you?

It has been a couple of days since I last regaled you with tales of not much derring-do so I was just listing a few topics to cover in this latest musing from downtown Kabul. So what have we:
The anniversary of 9/11, My bank card ignoring me, The uncertain start of Ramadan, A walk around the locality, The ice cream man, Visiting a real minefield (yes really full on landmines), moving to my new "permanent room", finally convincing the cook that a vegetarian does not eat meat, I think that covers it, and here was me thinking nothing had happened. You are beginning to see how small my world has become.

So let us start at the beginning. The 6th anniversary of 9/11 was not unlike any other day, except the road our office is situated on is called by some "suicide alley" as most of the suicide attacks in Kabul take place here. I hasten to add not where we are but are aimed at the ISAF (International Security Assistance Force - the Coalition) base down the road. This does not affect us, but would interfere with the drive to or from the office if the attack happened when we are passing by. However, our vehicles would not be affected and the only fatalities are, as always, innocent passing civilians. Anyway, we thought the Taleban may "celebrate" the anniversary with an attack, but this did not happen, which I think again emphasises they have little support in Kabul and outside their "stronghold" in the south and along the eastern border. Sorry, political lecture over.

On Wednesday, I went to the bank machine to get some cash, something we all take for granted. The machine here was rather wizzy and even asked if I wanted Euros or Dollars, so I asked it for $600. Sorry, no can do came the reply. How about $500 then, sorry no can do. I worked my way down to a measly $50 (£25 in proper money) and still the machine refusd my advances. So there was nothing to do but contact the bank. Of course as with all UK banks they have a truly helpful 0845 type number which, of course you cannot dial from abroad, so with some monumental help from Sarah, I eventually got the number of my branch and rang the manager. The conversation went something along the lines of
PQ: I am in Afghanistan, so please can we sort this quickly
BM: Where?
PQ: Afghanistan, Kabul actually
BM: Oh!
PQ: I tried to use my bank card yesterday and it did not work
BM: (laughs) In Kabul?
PQ: Yes, in Kabul
BM: Well, of course not our fraud department would halt any transaction in Afghanistan
PQ: Can you tell them not to
BM: Yes
PQ: How long will it take
BM: About 15 minutes, are you really in Kabul?
PQ: Yes
BM: What are you doing there?
PQ: Clearing land mines, must go, thanks.
BM: OK, bye

Now,where were we, oh yes, its now Thursday (in blog terms) and Afghanistan has been gripped in uncertainty for the past 24hours. You see Ramadan, the month of fasting, is linked to the phases of the moon. Now the phases of the moon have been predicted and known in advance for millennia, in fact, it was probably Arab scholars in the year dotdot that wrote them down for the first time. However, although any decent diary from Smiths would have the information in it and most of the Arab world has a fixed start date and knew Ramadan would start on Thursday, here in Afghanistan they were not sure and were waiting for the word from Mecca that the moon had been spotted and Ramadan would start on Wednesday, so, apparently there were frenzied did it, didn't it phone calls all through Tuesday night and consequently a lot of tired people at work on Wednesday. And of course it began Wednesday night, which conveniently brings me to my activities on Thursday. This was a day off as the first day of Ramadan and there would be no-one in the office, so I took the opportunity to go to a real, genuine, 100%, actaul minefield and see mine clearance in action. We went to a village in the valley south of Bagram airbase (yes the notorious Bagram airbase). The vilage itself was fantastic. It is situated in a valley below mountains and has a strong stream running through it from the mountains. It makes the area where the village is quite lush and the mud houses are surrounded by vineyards, orchards and fields. Well, it is surrounded by these where the mines have been cleared. The minefields are really interesting and I think I shal explain that another day as this entry is getting rather long.

In fact I wil cover that with the ice cream man, my new room and veggies later. Take care.
BFN

How was your weekend?

2007-09-10T15:14:00.000+01:00

Well dear reader, Yes Jiminy Crippet that appears to be you!!!

First, I will start with an apology, the internet connection here is pretty dire and although I have read the instructions and am now an expert on uploading photos to my blog, the connection here simply sees the piccy, rolls over on its back, puts all four legs in the air and plays dead so I am afraid you wil have to make do with the vivid pictures I paint with my expresive prose!!!

Now, where was I, oh yes, your weekend, you see we work Saturday and Sunday so it is not much of a weekend. However, Saturday was sort of interesting. I got back to the fortress we colloquially call a "guest" house, I turned on the tely and what is on some South African sport channel, the England/India 7th ODI, which India respectfuly threw away with only 2 minutes of the England/Israel footie played allowing us to watch that as well. This was followed by a game from the Rugger World Cup, so a bit of a sporty evening, sitting on my bum. This is something I am getting very used to (the sitting on my bum bit as getting out and about is prety difficult). I am beginning to wonder if my organisation is not a bit too protective, and will start talking to others about geting into some sort of sports.

Talking of TV we got back this evening to find we now have a satellite link with 758 channels. Unfortunately, it seems to be pointing at some Arabic satellite and we have 758 totally incomprehensible channels (sighs all round).

However, if you have read this drivvle all the way to this point I will reward you with a story of derring-do which the lightweights wil miss as they will have switched off after all that boring stuff about TVs.

Yesterday, I went out into the field to look at some potential new mine clearing areas. Of course, I had a cover story, as the acountant I am concerned that we are spending too much on gas for water heating at the demining camps and we have put in a solar panel on trial at one camp to see if we can cut costs (sound familiar!!!) so I was gaining information on the solar panel trial - honest, Guv.

Anyway the crux of the story is, other than travelling around the stark countryside north of Kabul I can hardly call it beautiful. Kabul sits on a wide plain at 1800m between two rows of mountains, which in itself is beautiful, but it is all very bare and barren.

We travelled north up the valley to the nearest demining camp where the de-miners live and work for their work period during the month. It is a tent compound built around an old building that is used as the office. This building is full of holes from the wars. I am waffling again.

We were going round looking at places that had been identified as needing clearance by the local population. One family were rebuilding their house and had replanted their vineyard. The house was on land the Soviets had taken to build a barracks which is now destroyed, but right along the edge of the house, no more than 20yards away is the remains of the wall of the compound with a slope up to it.

The slope has not been touched or cultivated as 3 people have had acidents on this slope since the refugees returned and been blown up by land mines. So no-one goes near, but everyone is afraid their children or animals may stray and that they can't grow anything on this land. So we are looking to make this a priority for the next block of clearance. Thats how clearing landmines makes a real difference to the lives of real people. So on that note, take care, I'll be back.

A day off

2007-09-07T13:33:00.000+01:00

So dear reader, it is Friday, which is our day off. Have to say it is a bit if a let down as there is nothing to do and nowhere to go!!!
Last night we walked round the corner to a charming international restaurant. When I say charming, obviously that means high fences, barbed wire and armed guards, but once inside there is a lovely courtyard with music, food and drink. We didn't eat but had a bottle of Corona and spent the evening chatting. I got to know my colleagues, one is ex-Eton and ex UK mlitary, whilst the other is ex-KLA (Kosovan Liberation Army). So here is my first handy tip for all those looking for a seaside retreat, buy a property on the coast in Albania, it is a beuatiful coastline and much cheaper than Crotia, Greece etc. You see poor Brit abroad, when denied the opportunity to talk about the weather (it is just hot every day) will fall back on our 2nd favourite topic, house prices. It was just like a dinner party in Surbiton, well, obviously exluding the aforementioned security.
This morning, I woke up at a leasurely pace and found we had no electricity or running water so that started the day well. It thwarted by desire for the proverbial shit, shower and shave or even a cup of tea. It turns out the power is often off during the day (but we are at work so it doesn't bother us) and the solution is to turn on the generator. It was 2 hours before anyone else got up and told me this!!!!!!
I have taken a photo of our street, so I wil read the instructions and try to post this on the next blog. As you all enjoy your wekend, think off me, we work Saturday and Sunday. Ha ha, done it, the piccie should be on this post!!
Be good.

At last, a new job!

2007-09-05T17:16:00.000+01:00

Well hello again dear reader.

It has been a while but thanks to my wee lassie, Rachel, I finally have a new job. I am now working for a de-mining organisation in Kabul.

I only arrived yesterday, so not a great deal to report except for: anyone who has read Charles Dickens "A tale of two cities", I think wil remember the first two pages are incredibly boring with endless references to the fog. Well, substitute dust for fog and that is my first impresion of Kabul. It is very hot at the moment and it has not rained for a while. Last night on the way from our compund to the guest house our driver had to stop frequently as we could not se through the dust. Mind you, we were following a convoy of vehicles along a dirt track which did not help, but it is my first abiding memory.

Unfortunately the journey from house to office takes us past many of the army, UN and many others compounds. These are great big square edifices with very high concrete walls all the way round and topped with heavy barbed wire. They are just there, surrounded by empty space. It is like a scene from some weird "Mad Max" movie and is very ugly and depressing. BUT, I am told and believe there are some beautiful areas of Kabul, and the rural areas are especially beautiful. I can't wait to get out of the city and visit some of the camps where we are clearing mines.

Frst though I have to learn my job in the office and I shall be nailed to a desk and chair for a while trying to cram as much learning in as posible.

I think that wil do for starters after a 2 year break. Cant get you too excited just yet.

Take care.

Lumberjacks?

2005-07-10T17:45:00.000+01:00

Hello again. Something has just happened that I really must report. About 6 this evening the generator was switched on so charging batteries can take place. Had a sleep this afternoon and then spent this evening here on the veranda reading, writing and having dinner.

At the end of our road is a very small shed, which a couple run as their shop. It stocks a variety of goods from a little fruit and veg to sweets and bottles of drink.

Anyway I popped up there in the darkness and had a look around the shop by the solitary oil lamp and bought a couple of bananas. When I say bought, I mean I took. They refused any payment for them and insisted I take them as a present. Tescos could learn from this. It is incredible that people who have so little are always prepared to be generous, where did we go wrong?

However, those of a slightly nervous disposition may now want to turn away. I have an interesting, but frankly, unpalatable incident to report, which involves the toilet, you have been warned.

To get to the point of this story, I have just been to the loo. Having flushed the loo you sometimes have a little look to check all the evidence has gone. So I look in and there is a “floater” proudly on the surface. But this is no ordinary floater, this one is slowly spinning. On it is a small dark object, riding it like a Canadian Lumberjack!! (Sorry, Steve). I don’t know about you but this is curious so I take a closer look and it is a small frog apparently enjoying its new game. After a few seconds it jumps off the “log” scampers up the side of the bowl and disappears under the rim. Now I have to assume this creature did not come from me (just for my own sanity), but dear reader if ever there was a justification for “hovering” I have just experienced it.

So I have to ask, has anyone else ever seen the famous lumberjack frogs of Sri Lanka? In fact, do they live anywhere else? Your comments would be appreciated.

So here I am writing to you, its 9.30pm, I am “on the veranda” listening to a collection of romantic oldies and writing to you.

Think I may just play a game of puzzle-bobble (ask Carlo) before I retire to worry about whether anyone will actually take me back to Colombo tomorrow.

The cool breeze is gently stirring the curtains; Rita Coolidge has transported me back to Thames Poly when I did my first degree in the late 70’s. (I am young, fit, slim & have hair, the world is laid out before me!!) Fortunately, there are no mirrors here. The water is cool for the first time today after a few hours of the fridge being on, and all is well with the world.

Good night.
9:45pm 10/7/2005

Life in the slow lane

2005-07-10T09:45:00.000+01:00

Hello dear reader, its Sunday lunchtime and I am back at home.

Last night was a little cooler and I got some good sleep in, you will be pleased to know.

This morning, as usual my driver did not appear, to take me to the office so about 10 I decided I would walk and see if I could get a 3 wheeler somewhere. Now unfortunately, we are on a back road so the chances of a 3 wheeler are pretty remote. The walk is a long one, probably about 30 minutes and it is hot, sunny and very dusty and I have a heavy bag with laptop etc. Still a challenge is good for the soul, so I set off.

After about 10 minutes I managed to flag down a passing motor bike (with rider) and got him to give me a lift to the office so all ended well, until I got to the office. I had told them I wanted to head back to Colombo today (which is why I was expecting a truck to pick me up!!) Anyway there is no-one (only the doorman) at the office as it is Sunday, so no chance of anything happening today. So I thought, OK, I will stay here and do some work, but there is no power on Sunday, so that plan was also foiled. Only thing to do is wander back to the house and relax on the veranda for a well-earned day off. Will do some research for dissertation and write a blog entry with the remaining 10 mins left of laptop battery.

Got a 3 wheeler back to the house and here I am sat on my veranda giving you my latest thoughts and the story of my derring-do.

It is really good here in Kilinochchi, the pace is slow and easy, everyone is so friendly and helpful. It is poor but that is the norm here. People are rebuilding their lives after the war and now after the Tsunami, which hit the coast nearby. So many people have been displaced here and so much property destroyed. Most of the buildings have been repaired or put up in the last 2 years. Most people seem to live in very modest buildings made of local materials down these dirt track roads.

Anyway, battery is looking ominously low and I need to do some work, so, have a good day, and enjoy your Sunday, wherever you are and whatever you are doing.

1:45pm 10/7/2005

Kilinochchi

2005-07-09T18:30:00.000+01:00

Had a really good day today. Spent the morning at TRO, Working on my notes. This afternoon I went to the Peace Secretariat of the LTTE and met the Secretary General. I stayed there a couple of hours and we chatted about life during the war and life in the ceasefire. Kilinochchi was taken by the Tigers, then retaken by the Army and then retaken again by the Tigers so there was prolonged heavy fighting here. Most of the town that exists today was built since the ceasefire as everything was previously destroyed. We talked a lot about the work of the TRO during the war and after the war and the causes of the conflict between the Tamils ad the Sinhalese. He agrees with a number of works I have read during my research that the conflict is a recent phenomenon with the seeds sown during the British colonial period. Before I left he presented me with a signed copy of “War & Peace. The armed struggle and peace efforts of Liberation Tigers”.

After that I went for a walk and eventually came to the UNICEF offices. I had a contact here and dropped in on the off-chance. Met a very interesting lady who has been in Kili on and off for 10 years and had a lot to tell me about her time there and also about the way they have worked with TRO and how the organisation has developed over the years.

She was also on holiday in Phuket on Boxing Day 2004 when the Tsunami hit the hotel they were staying in. A very interesting first hand account.

Walked back to TRO office and got a lift back to the house in the truck I came up in.

Sat on the veranda this evening, alone with my solitary light bulb, had dinner, read some of “War and Peace” and listened to Coldplay (have become hooked on Fix You) with a cold glass of water. There is a good breeze this evening and it may be a bit cooler in bed. Will have a shower and retire soon.

Except for the main road through Kili all the roads are dirt tracks and there is dust everywhere. Clothes get filthy really quickly. Might run out at this rate!!!

Enjoy!!!

10:30pm 9/7/2005

Colombo

2005-07-09T03:45:00.000+01:00

Well, I have to report a very interesting couple of days since arriving back in Colombo.

It turns out things have not been all fun since I left. The house I stay at in Colombo was burgled one night and everyone’s computers were stolen, (told them they should come home earlier in the evening) one of the guys got into a fight outside a bar in Colombo because he works for the TRO, and had his two front teeth knocked out, the mosquitoes in the house appear to be carrying dengue fever as two people have gone down with this rather deadly disease, and to cap it all 3 weeks ago the office in Batticaloa (remember I spent 3 happy weeks there), was attacked with machine guns and a grenade thrown in. So looks like my sojourn back in the UK was timed perfectly!!

I began the day in Colombo after a night out at Clancy’s (Paola’s favourite Colombo nightspot!!! - OK we had one drink in there once and it was very quiet.) There was a live band last night so it was quite pleasant to listen to them blast out some Dire Straits etc.

This morning I cadged a lift to Kilinochchi (yes it is spelt chch). It took us 8 hours to get here, but was a really interesting drive from south to north of Sri Lanka. Saw a wide range of scenery, villages and people.

Of course Kili is in Tamil Eelam so we had to leave Sri Lanka through the government checkpoints and enter Tamil Eelam through the Tiger checkpoints. These things always seem to be a bit of a let down. You expect great walls, rolls of razor wire, watchtowers, aggressive guards being unnecessarily eager etc. Well not much to report really other than a lot of tedious manual paperwork to be filled in, a quick chat with the army about why I would want to go to Kili, and then a drive across “no mans land”. This is about a mile wide and is controlled by the ICRC who have an office at each end and patrol it in their jeep. All a little surreal really. Finally, you arrive at Tamil Eelam for some more paperwork and then the problem of trying to explain what a memory stick is. Actually we take these for granted, but just think about how you would explain it to your Granddad who had never seen one and really didn’t grasp the concept. Well I know my Granddad would have been confused and so was the customs man, but we sorted ourselves out and went on our way happily.

Kilinochchi is great. It is the capital, but only really has the A9 running through the middle. All other roads are dirt tracks. The electric goes off in the evening, so it is dark and quiet. A really refreshing change from Colombo, or England for that matter. So I got back from TRO HQ about 9.30 (they have a generator). I was met by a very pleasant man who has cooked me dinner and I am sat on a huge veranda, alone, eating my dinner (noodles, chips, vegetables and veggie chunks), under the single light bulb our generator powers, hoping the batteries will hold out on my laptop as I type this and listen to Coldplay and Fix It, -“when you try your best, and you don’t succeed” ;-). The temperature is warm with a cool breeze and I am supping a cold glass of water from the fridge. This single light bulb is like an oasis of light in the dark (and probably attracting Mossies from miles around!!!)

Everywhere I look I see darkness, is it really lovely. Going to have a cold shower and then go to bed for an early night.

(Its now morning) Went to bed early, needn’t have bothered. Go back and read SWISS if you don’t remember this. Well last night was Swiss x 10. I went to bed they turned off the generator the fan stopped turning and the heat went up, and up and up. In fact, I laid on the bed, sweating on the top and bottom. The window was wide open but the wind refused to come in and I just got hotter. Did not fall asleep for hours, but have to say everything was sticking to my sweaty body. Every time I turned the under sheet moved with me, I threw off the top sheet hours ago, and just formed a large lump under my body. The hottest night I have ever spent, and definitely one of the most uncomfortable. I am sooooooo tired this morning. Anyway=y, had a nice breakfast of Dahl and Noodles and am heading off to the office shortly to continue my research

Enjoy!

7.45 am 9/7/2005

safe and sound

2005-07-07T14:18:00.000+01:00

Hello my friend,

Have arrived safely in Sri Lanka. Oh boy, I got an upgrade to business class. The seat was huge, even room for my bum and more and as for the service. I have never been pampered so much. (Well not by women it didn't know the names of, I mean!!!!). Had a great flight and even slept for 6 hours. Now I have tasted the high life I'm not sure I can go back to cattle class!!

All is fine here in Sri Lanka. Have spent the day grilling people here in the Colombo office like the dedicated researcher I am. Tomorrow I head off to the north to Killinichchi to the HQ of the TRO. Should be very interesting although I am told they are having hard times and the electric is only on from 8am to 5pm and it goes off for 2 hours at lunchtime. Not sure that leaves much. Got a taste of it today in Colombo when the power went off. Once the fans stop turning, boy it gets hot and sweaty!!!

Anyway, it looks like it has been non-stop activity in London since I left. We get the Olympics and then I heard today we have bombs across the tube system. CNN say only 2 dead, but I doubt this very much, think there must be more than that. Good news and bad news so close together. Feel sorry for those who have lost someone or been injured, and I assume getting out of London tonight will be chaos.

Not sure about internet access in Killi so I may be out of touch for a couple of days. Hope you are all well. (the lengths I will go to, to get out of writing my dissertation!!)

Enjoy,

PQ.

Am I repeating myself

2005-07-05T07:01:00.000+01:00

Am I going mad? I completely forgot I told you yesterday I was off to SL. This does not bode well for actually finding my way there and back. Better go and check my passport and tickets, make sure everything is in order. Have I got the right day????

OK, so it is probably my age, need to slow down, relax, take it easy, listen to the sound of waves on the beach, take the dog for a walk, chill out and drink cool guinness.

Just checked the weather in SL, it is hot and humid, just how I like it - NOT!!!!!

Looks like it will be all research this time, no footie with the kids or fun and frivolity like that just interviews, PRA exercises and observations. (Put this in for Alp!!) A truly academic experience to be treasured for the rest of my life.

Anyway, better check that passport.

Bye.

going back

2005-07-05T06:51:00.000+01:00

Hi all, just to let you know I am heading back to Sri Lanka this evening for a week to finish my research.

I will try to keep you updated on progress while there but, of course, it depends on Internet cafes and how utterly dull and boring things are there. Or even whether I can be bothered, seeing as only wee lassie ever sends any comments!!!!!!

See you all again soon.

the return of the laneender

2005-07-04T07:10:00.000+01:00

After a short intermission, the Laneender is heading back to Sri Lanka tomorrow for a week .

Don't get your hopes up too high, but I will try to keep you all informed of my "daily doings" whilst there.

All depends on internet cafes, how boring my life is, etc.

Blog again soon.

Some days make it all worthwhile

2005-04-11T17:36:00.000+01:00

I have already rambled on about the footie training we are doing so I will try not to go on too much. We are also providing netball training for the girls and volleyball, which has been dominated by the boys. Today was day 4 of 5, and we made a little breakthrough cos' we got the girls to play volleyball. They have been watching and obviously wanted a go, so we made a special girls volleyball session today which was very successful.

On the way back today we came back via the ferry. This is much quicker as it goes across the lagoon instead of driving all the way round.

Every evening, because it is so hot there is a spectacular light display in the sky. There is a huge electrical storm takes place in the clouds. None of the lightning goes to ground, just great flashes behind the clouds lighting up the sky.

I sat on the edge of the lagoon, in the silence, a warm breeze blowing around me, my toes dipped in the water looking at the display, like two gods fighting in the sky, thinking about the kids faces and the joy we had brought them today.

Think I will sleep well tonight.

So Mr. PQ what is it you do???

2005-04-10T17:39:00.000+01:00

This evening I thought I would bring you all up to date on my activities for this week.

As I have said before my rigorous training at the PRDU has prepared me for a demanding role in post Tsunami Sri Lanka. here I am in Batticaloa, or border town between Sri lanka and Tamil Eelam, ravaged by 20 years of war and hit by one of the worlds worst natural disasters only 3 months ago.

Well the obvious thing to do is run a footie coaching scheme. So that is what I am doing. I spent the early part of the week, racking my brains, trying to think of the dim & distant past to remember what coaching I had when I was a lad. I know it is a while ago, and they don't have laces in the balls, and the boots don't have wooden studs nailed in etc, etc.. (heard it all before).

Anyaway I have just got back from our 3rd day coaching. You see, it is quiter simple really, I am english therefore it is reasonable to assume I am the best footballer on the island.

I was supposed to be doing this with Adrian (from Switzerland) but he has got stuck in Colombo, so there is just me and Nelson (a fit young man, who is very good at football, but speaks as much english as I speak Tamil).

Now, the school where we are doing this training happens to be in a place called Kokoddachilai, which is a town in Tiger held country. So every day we travel there in the back of the pickup, loaded with 8 footballs, 3 volleyballs, and 3 netballs. They have local coaches for these two sports, but no balls. This is a very poor area of Sri Lanka. No aid has gone in here for the duration of the war, and very few agencies are working here at the moment, so the TRO is about the only lifeline they have.

To get here we have to cross the border, which is wuite strange. On the SL side it is heavily armed htere are 4 gun emplacement at various points across the bridge, Tiger country is on the far side of the lagoon, and a checkpoint. This is where we have the fun every day. As soon as the army see the TRO truck they pull us over. I then have to jump out from the back and ask if there is a problem, just to establish we have a European on board (this always helps).

Unfortunately we seem to get different soldiers every day, so we go through the same ritual of being asked who we are, where are we going, why are we going, then they look in the back, see the balls and usually they decide they would like one, so they ask for a ball. I say no they are for children in the school and they wouldn't take it from them, they sort of agree, and then decide to go through the whole truck, under the bonnet, behind the seats etc.

Finally we all shake hands, they wave us through and we carry on out to the village.

The odd thing is that on the Tamil side you never see a Tiger. We are told tehy are thre, and they have seen us and are watching us, but they never break cover.

This area is very poor. 20 years of war, no aid and only a little coming through now, has taken its toll.Most of the people we pass on the way seem to live a very simple life in a one room house, no running water or electricity living off the land. We rarely see another vehicle except for a few small motorbikes, tractors and bicycles. The main street of the village is just a dirt track between 2 rows of small buildings. A lot of the houses are mud biult.

We get to the school and all these children appear out of nowhere to greet us and play, footie, netball and volleyball.

They are widly enthusiastic and eager to learn everything you show them. Most are in their normal t-shirts, trousers and barefoot. Of around 80 children for fooite, I counted 3 with football boots, all the rest are barefoot.

We do some routines teaching them to trap, head, pass the ball etc, and then we play some racing games wwhere they have to dribble the ball up and down a row of kids against the other team, and finish with a game of 7-a-sise. At the end we all sit round on the floor and a large bucket of tea is brought out. We dip our cups in, and all share a drink before we go home and throught eh checkpoinmt ritual again. Hopefully the same soldiers will be still there from when we came and they won't hassle us.

We have two days of footie left, then I shall leave Batti, head back to Colombo for a couple of days, renew my visa and head north to Kilinochchi.

Oh yes, almost forgot. We went for a swim today in the Indian Ocean. Had a very nice swim, but you can't help glancing at the flattened trees and houses just up from teh beach and be reminded of the enormous power & devastastion. We did check and people are not offended by us swimming there, but no-one else goes down to the sea these days.

Must go home now.

Cheers, hope I didn't ramble too much.

Stranger than fiction!!!!

2005-04-10T06:25:00.000+01:00

Well hi everyone, sorry I have been away for a while, but I have been busy. Hard to believe, I know, but absolutely true.

Before I tell you what I have been up to, I must tell you my stranger than fiction story. I am not sure what I have told you about Batticaloa, but it is a fairly provincial town. Lots of goats, cows, dogs, some people a couple of bars in foreigner hotels etc. You probably get the picture, oh and we are on the border of Sri lankan and Tamil Tiger held territory (I will come to that later) so after about 9pm there is no-one on the streets except the police and the army. They are everywhere, all day, fully armed with the ubiquietous Kalashnikov. In fact, 2 are always posted at the end of our TRO street, just to keep an eye on us!!

Anyway, where was I, oh yes. I was wandering home around 8.30 when I passed the only TV shop in Batti. NOw I have not seen a TV picture for 3 weeks, so I idled away a couple of minutes watching the adverts on a station called eye, when a trailer came on for a programme later that evening (this is where it gets spooky) It is one of those studio discussion programmes and there sat in the chair is a absolute double for a certain Irish gentleman we all know as Roger. Up comes caption "Dr. Roger MacGinty, University of York". I am standing in the street in Batticaloa watching our very own Roger on the telly!!!!! Roger, if you are reading this, I hope you didn't say anything to compromise me as I am going to Kilinochchi next week. I would hate for them to have a grudge against the University of York.

Well I will sign off now and send another entry later with my busy life details.

Cheers for now.

Is it only the Brits who talk about the weather?

2005-04-04T13:53:00.000+01:00

Think I got my times and dates all confused yesterday. Hope you can sort through what I meant to say.

You may have noticed that the Brits are obsessed with talking about the weather, and our favourite complaint is that the sun shines all week and then the clouds come over at the weekend.

Well, not wishing to sound like a typical Brit but………..the sun shone all week in Batticaloa and then came Sunday. Our one & only day off and, well you have already guessed. The clouds came over; it rained most of the day and was a bit cool.

I don’t like to complain, Sri Lanka is a great place, great people, but surely we can do without this British aberration!!!!

Anyway we trotted off to the beach in the afternoon and had a dip in the sea. It was very rough and impossible to swim, just a case of playing in the breakers and getting knocked over by them.

After that we went to the stadium and had a game of 5-a-side in very slippery, muddy conditions. We were absolutely drenched and looked like a group of bedraggled tramps, but we were happy. Must have been tired as we elected to leave the bar and go home at 9 and fell straight off to sleep.

Today is a sad day, as our resident Aussie volunteers, Marty & Kathy headed out of town, I first met them in Colombo when they walked into the TRO office there and asked if they could do anything for 2 weeks to help out as they had come to SL for a holiday, but wanted to do something more. Marty is a Surveyor and Kathy a nurse. They were sent to Batti on the same day I came here and we met up again.

They have been great fun and really good company, so they will be sorely missed. We have shared a few beers, meals and games of footie. Poor Kathy had a queue of victim’s patients last night after the game and dealt with us all with great sensitivity!!!!

Wishing them a safe journey home and few well-earned enjoyable days in Kandy.

I may be staying here a while as Adrian (our Swiss Project Manager) is a teacher and he is starting football coaching classes for teachers in the LTTE controlled areas and needs an assistant. Obviously, with my great skill and prowess I have volunteered to help him, so we may be developing a football-coaching scheme. See if I can get them onto squash next. Make a nice change from project proposals!!!!

Hope all are well; your comments are greatly appreciated. At least I know someone is reading this drivel!

Lost and found.........in Batticaloa

2005-04-03T06:52:00.000+01:00

Hello reader, remember me?

Sorry, but Internet access here is a little sporadic so I am not able to keep you up with all the latest news from Batti as regular as I would like.

Those of you from Uni, who appear to have created a new commune in Kabul, from what my spies tell me!!!!! will be pleased to know I have tracked down Steve. He is alive and well and lording it up, here in Batti. He has the biggest desk and chair I have ever seen complete with his own computer with Internet access , his own car and house and is THE BOSS.

Me, jealous, heck sure I am as we sweat in our office, queue up to use the only computer in the TRO and go back to our dingy room (with no windows) in the back of a pickup truck!!!

So, other than that what has been happening. I went down to Ampara earlier in the week. Unfortunaltey, there was a Hathal (strike) by the Tamils for 2 days, due to a little misunderstanding between the Tigers and the Army, which happened to coincide with our visit. Ampara is pretty tense at the best of times, but with the remains of the burnt out tyres in the roads, the heavy army presence and numerous roadblocks/checkpoints we had an interesting journey. Fortunately for us a smile and a European face helps at the checkpoints and we got no real grief.

The road along the coast is very badly damaged and bridges have had emergency repairs and tend to be very narrow, only for 1 way traffic.

Went to 3 IDP camps and spoke a lot to the people down there.

On a lighter note, the boss at TRO is President of the local "Flying Fish" footie team. anmd we were invited to join the practice last night. The practice was at the Weber Stadium and we had a load of fun. Unfortunately I had no boots so played barefoot, which was OK on the grassy bits, but pretty painful on the gravel and stones. The teams consisted of a number of Army players so, as ever, there was a heavy army presnece complete with Kalashnikovs etc. We were searched on the way in, but the moment of the day was right at the end. Yours truly was playing at lefft back, marking the right winger. Unbeknown to me a couple of soldiers (fully armed) had begun to walk onto the pitch behind me to declare the game over. Now, as you know I am quite heavy and Sri Lankans are quite small, so when my winger made a run down the line I turned and in full flight bowled straight into a fully armed soldier knocking him flat to the floor!!!!

Fortunately he saw the funny side of it (as did the rest of the platoon!!) and we alkl escaped with our lives after picking hikm up and dusting him down.

Not much else to report, have heard from Paola and she is stuck down south in a place I can't pronounc, but apparently saying there are 2 dogs and a cat may be overstating the population.

Dear old CAFC have managed to squeeze a last gasp equaliser against Ciy and, for those of you who understand, I am becoming an expert at hovering!!! For those of you who don't, don't ask.

I now have a project to work on, which is also good news, except I was thinking of leaving here this week to go to Kilinochchi, so I will see how it goes, but TRO has signed a deal with the Govt for Communal buildings in 37 coastal villages, and they need some help sorting out the Project.

Nothing else to report, how is Sudan, wee lassie and I haven't heard from lara, is she in Uganda???

BFN

SWISS!!!!!!

2005-04-03T05:53:00.000+01:00

Hello again. I know what you are thinking, two postings in two days and you are right I have found an Internet Café here in Batticaloa.

So, why am I putting pen to paper today. I have to tell you it is for purely selfish and triumphalist reasons. I feel the need to share with you a small, but important victory. Last night I had, for the first time since arriving in Sri Lanka a dry night (No, I have not become incontinent in my old age, I did not sweat all night long). This may not seem much to you, but to me, it is worth shouting from the rooftops.

Let me explain the phenomenon of Semi Wet In Slumber Syndrome (SWISS), but to do that, once again I have to set the scene for you.

The TRO is not an International organisation with air-conditioned Land Cruisers, large offices etc. It is a Sri Lankan organisation run by Sri Lankans for Sri Lankans in a somewhat modest fashion.

We travel on foot, bicycles, buses, the back of motorbikes or if you are very important in the back of an open pick up truck. They also do not waste money on expensive offices, air conditioners or accommodation. Stick with me, I am getting there. Hence my room is modest, but it has a fan which, when there is not a power cut, works admirably.

Now last night we had rain, by rain I mean tropical rain. I have not experienced this before, but it is of biblical proportions. This is the kind of rain that has the ducks cowering in the bus shelter and rivers flowing down streets!!, but more importantly it brought with it a cool breeze and lower temperatures (not low, I hasten to add, just lower than very hot).

So last night when I went to bed it was cooler than usual.

Getting the speed of the fan above the bed just right at nighttime takes a bit of trial and error. You can’t have it too high, as it is not possible to sleep with a gale blowing through your locks! but too low and you get no cooling. I have found set on level 2 with my head at the fan end works really well, and then about 3am when its a bit cooler, swapping round and putting your feet at the fan end is the best system.

Now, my friends we reach the crux of the problem, and the story. The fan makes the top of your body (be this back or front) quite cold, and sweat free, however (and this, dear reader, is SWISS) the side of the body on the sheet underneath is sweating. So you have to perfect a technique of rolling over every 10 minutes or so to dry the sweaty half, and make the dry half sweaty. I think you get the picture, but do not dwell on it too long.

So, finally the point of this epistle is, the rain brought with it cooler air and last night the under side of my body did not sweat, hence my small, but important, victory.

Do you care? – NO, am I happy, YES.

Have a nice day.

A knock on the door in the middle of the night!!

2005-03-30T06:12:00.000+01:00

Good morning all,

Well it had been a pretty quiet day, the highlight being an interview with the Divisional Secretary for a few words on the Government and the TRO. Things change!

After dinner me, Marty and Cath went for a beer and headed home around 11. In was so quiet and nothing was on the street. In fact, not even a Tuk-Tuk. In the end we found a Red Cross people carrier in a petrol station and bummed a lift home with them.

About midnight there is a knock on the door, it is one of the local TRO workers, saying "Tsunami, Office". You know how thick you can be when woken in the night and I just stood there saying, "Yes, Tsunami, Office". But her was insistant and took me out to the street where there was a calm, dignifies stream of people heading inland. Most walking, some on bicycles, the odd motorbike and van.

Most were in small family groups and some carried small bundles of possessions on their heads.

We joined them and headed inland to the office, where we watched the news unfold on the Asia News Channel. It turns out we were to be spared a Tsunami and we all went home around 3am, but I believe the earthquake has devastated Indonesia.

Our thoughts and best wishes go out to Jamal, his family and the people of Indonesia. If anyone hears from him, please let us know.

I am on my way to work now, all is quiet here in Sri Lanka, and normal life carries on.

See you all again soon.

Gone East

2005-03-28T08:15:00.000+01:00

Lies, lies and damn lies. Air conditioned luxury, my arse. For those of you who have used 3rd world intercity buses, you will know this so skip tje next paragraph. For those of you who haven't read on.

I suggest you read this out loud and record it then sit in a comfy chair and paly it back as you need your eyes closed to imagine it. Think of a 1950 black & whit film, and think of the bus that would be in it. Then imagine that bus has been beaten to death for the last 50 years and our story can begin.

The 9.30 bus to Batticaloa left at 10pm on its 8 hour joutrney. The front door did not close, the rear door was completely blocked with the newspapers we were carrying to Batticaloa, the windows diod not fit, or close and the bus was completely overcrowded including 10 people who stood for the 8 hour journey. Imagine a driver wearing diving boots, that could only operate the accelorator and brake by being full on or off, and a bus that appeared to reach terminal velocity and resonant frequency all at the same time and seem to be careering out of control with the driver on the wrong side of the road, horn blaring scattering anything that came in the opposite direction. Now ask yourself, did I sleep??

Well actually, by about 3am it became the only alternative.

Anyway for welcome back the seasoned travellers. The journey was worth it. The TRO people here in Batticaloa are remarkably helpful friendfly and kind. I am shjaring a couple rooms with an Australian couple, a few large roaches, and a world convention of mossies, but it is really great.

Have been to a temprary shelter and spoken to a number of people and interviewwed the only resident who spoke English. Had a great seesion with her for an hour and got loads of info on the beneficiaries feelings. also spoken to the nurses in the clinic, the architects building the new village and taken loads of piccies.

All in all it has been a goo coupkle of day. I have given the TRO a programme of what I would like to acheive and we are discussing this later this morning.

Will also try to find FORUT and our long, lost brother Steve Cummings. Does anyone have a photo of him???

Hope everyone else is doing well, for those into the footie, I know England beat N. ireland 4-0 in the world cup qualifier.

Good to hear from Palwasha this week, and good to hear Azusa is sorterd. Any news from Lara???, and how is wee lassie getting on in Sudan. How ios your luxury guest house, young lady. We are all dying to find out.

Will post again soon.

Cheers all.

Going East

2005-03-24T21:11:00.000Z

Good afternoon,

This evening I am catching the overnight bus to Bitticaloa. It has aircon so I may get a better sleep than in my room! I think Steve is out there so I will try to find the FORUT office and let you all know how he is.

Lara thinks she may be going to Ugnada, so hopefully she will soon be joining the ranks of the WPs (WorkPlacements).

Nothing much else to report, have been working some more with TRO on the project proposals and had a boring early night last night, and read a book. I am reading the autoboigraphy of Prabahakan, the leader of the Tigers.

Had a mail from Sally complaining that we are ignoring her, so come everyone, send her an eMail, she must be bored without us!!

In the immortal words of Jimmy Young "BFN, Bye For Now"

Alp would be chuffed

2005-03-24T02:15:00.000Z

Hello dear reader,

Today has been a good day here in Colombo. I have done interview no. 2 with a senior bod here and am in the swing of it. Transcribed the tape to Word and the database is slowly growing.

This pm I have been assessing their Project proposals. Now it just so happens I have a really good one including LogFrame, Risk assessment, Project rationale (Oh, how Alp would have beamed as I explained to them the inner workings of the LogFrame), tucked away here in my PC. One I prepared earlier as they say, on "Blue Peter".

I seem to have made friends with the mossies here. The current bite count is around 10 and increasing each day, despite copious amounts of Extra Strength Man Size Mossie deterrent for real men in the Jungle type stuff.

Contacted Carlo on MSN today and he is in Florence, preparing to head off to Jerusalem to chase those Arab women, and Rach is safely ensconsed in Khartoum munching her way through a packet of Rich Tea waiting for the UN to put her to work. Hey Rach, I hope you have taken Appropriate clothing!!!

As for the super Charlton Addicks, how can we beat Spurs 2-0 and then promptly get slaughtered by West Brom. Being a Charlton supporter is never dull!!! When you think you are up, they bring you straight back down.

Well I am going home to stand under a cold shower to try to cool down. It was soooooo hot last night I couldn't sleep and laid completely still while the sweat just kept coming. Had to wash the bedclothes this morning (but maybe that is too much detail).

Hope you are all doing OK.

my first interview

2005-03-22T23:15:00.000Z

There I was preparing everything I had learnt from Jordan, how to interview using a semi-structured approach, ready to guide my interviewee through the questions, allowing them time and freedom to express themselves and expand upon the many important issues I was to raise, and then.....................the little red light on the recorder stopped flashing.

Sinking feeling, panic, despair all within 2 seconds. Only had to rewind it (metaphoricallY speaking) and it was OK.

First interview succesfully completed, transcript typed up and big smug look on face. This is easy, bring on the PRA!!!!!!!!!

Forgot to tell you all, when I left Paola last night I got Tuk-Tuk (look it up if you don't know) back to my house. The kinf\dly gentleman driving the Tuk-tuk enquired as toi whether I like Sri Lankan ladies. Now this is a bit of a catch 22 methinks. If I say yes, he take me to meet his "friend". If I say no I am insulting all the lovely ladies of Sri Lanka. its late and I am faced with a moral (or is that morale) dilemna. (Where is Alp when you need a bit of advice?)

Anyway, I explained that Sri lankan ladies are very beautiful and lovely,but right now I am tired and would like to go home.

Don't know why, but I thought I would share that with you.

Have a nice day.

Quintus gets me in trouble....again

2005-03-22T06:44:00.000Z

Before I tell you about todays exploits, thought you would like to catch up on the sleeping arrangements at our house.

Last night it was decided we would swap things around, and I was moving downstairs. Now the good news is - I now have my own bedroom. The slightly less good news is it has no aircon. The even less good news is it has no bed!!!!

But I do have a matress on the floor and a fan. You see Lane Ender can muck in with the best. I hope wee lassie is reading this and preparing for her Khartoum guest house!!! (Thanks for comment, much appreciated).

Yesterday we were discussing the new Tsunami relief website and I just thought I would show them the Quintus site. They were impressed and now I am in charge of designing the new website here. Thanks to Quintus - I knew it would get me a job one day!!!!

Went out for dinner with Paola last night she tells me she if off to the coast tomorrow...sigh. So I won't have her civilised company for dinner any more . Good luck and have a safe journey.

I am going to try to get moved up to Kilinochchi this week and get on with some research so my ramblings may become few and far between for a while.

Its late now and we have popped into a seedy little internet cafe behind a chinese restaurant to post this. It has cubicles for the computers and loads of porn sites on the desktop. Everytime you search for something it takes off to a site extolling the virtues of lesbians - if you get my drift. It is also running a chinese version of Windows, which makes navigation quite difficult!!!!

Well, that will do for now. I'll be in touch.

SUNDAY, its our day OFF

2005-03-21T02:44:00.000Z

Its Sunday afternoon and me & Paola have had a day out in Colombo. (Steve, where are you, join us soon).

We caught a few buses (an experience in itself) and went to the Kelaniya Raja Maha Vihara Buddhist temple just out of town.

Buses are fun, busy, noisy, crowded, very cheap, driven by madmen and scary as hell, but we enjoyed it. Even met an Italian speaking Sri Lankan for Paolo to chat to!!

The temple was pretty impressive and we have some piccies, so will try to post them sometime.

Finished with a walk along the beach. never seen the Indian Ocean before. Have to say it looks like a lot of others to me. Strange to think this is what created the terrible devastation on this beautiful island. Fortunately not here, and nothing I have seen yet. That is yet to come and I expect will be pretty harrowing.

Anyway,we are back in Colombo, and will probably chill out this evening as a day out in this temperature is pretty draining.

be good.

19th March, 1st day in Colombo

2005-03-20T16:29:00.000Z

Well, I have been introduced to my new buddies and my new home at the TRO in Colombo. (www.troonline.org). Everyone is young and very dynamic. They seem to work from around 8.30am to 9.30pm. How is a student expected to match that!!!!!

So worked all day preparing my research and we all went out in the evening for dinner about 10.00. Ended up in Clancy's (another Irish bar) to celebrate St. Patricks Day. Place was really buzzing and we danced the night away till 2am. Ideal way to treat jet lag!!!!!

Crashed into bed, will I wake up in the morning, who knows........

19th March, did I get yesterdays date wrong?

2005-03-20T12:34:00.000Z

Saturday morning and today we will take it easy at work. Finish preparing my research plan and sit down with people here to discuss. I have given them a list of who I would like to talk to and whether they can facilitate the meetings and transport me to the far flung Tsunami affected corners of the island. For those of you wondering what I am doing here in Sri Lanka, I have come to carry out some research on whether the Tsunami relief aid is getting to the North & East of the island, and also to work as a volunteer for the TRO.

Boy, is it hot here, reckon it is well over 30C.

This evenieng, for those of you who know her, Paola has arrived in town. Met her this evening and we had a good curry. Came out and it was pouring with rain. Still we found one of the infamous 3 wheelers and had a very exciting journey across town to Clancys. Do I know how to show a girl a good time. OK, we were early and it was qwuiet so we were able to catch up on PRDU gossip and chat.

(Sorry to hear about Azusa and Lara, hope you get your placements sorted out soon)

Go home early to read, and have a good nights sleep. See you again soon.

18th March 2005

2005-03-19T00:21:00.000Z

Well here is the first post, and I have to start with a complaint. I fly from London to Dubai. The flight is great, food very good, service excellent, passenger next to me is the passenger from hell. He appears to be under the impression I was put on the flight to act as a prop as he got smashed on free brandy. Boy, do I attract them. The further I leaned away, the further he leaned over. Cattle class seat are not designed to accomodate you and your neighbour!!

Oh well, I arrive in Dubai and I am greeted out of the arrival lounge by...... Yes you guessed it, the ubiqietous Irish pub!!!!

Still, Dubai airport is not the worst place to spend a couple of hours waiting for the flight to Colombo, my true destination.

Flight to Colombo is almost empty and I get 4 seats to lay out wrap up in a blanket and snooze my way across India. Such bliss. This is getting a little overlong, so the next installment will have to be tomorrow. Have a good one!