The Afghanistan You Don’t See, Hear, or Read About August 11th, 2006

After a spell of writer’s bloc, it is time to talk about more of the daily life of the common & uncommon man here in Kabul.

Like anywhere else, children grow up, adults grow old and everyone tries to get by. In Afghanistan, most people spend a great amount of time outdoors. Not in the way that Americans spend time outside in leisure activity, but in the daily tasks of endurance. Whereas many Americans drop children at a daycare center and spend the day either in an office or a car, each day I see literally hundreds of children and adults working in fields, pushing carts, collecting water and unfortunately searching through garbage piles, a couple of which are located less than 100m from my home amid abandoned Russian armored personnel vehicles.

Most of my sporting runs take place in small, semi-agricultural neighborhoods between my home and the Kabul International Airport. In six short months, I’ve witnessed the growth and harvest of wheat & rye and now see Afghans working diligently in the fields bring home tomatoes, cucumbers, okra, and watermelons. From dawn to near dusk, one can see men, women and children in the fields working. Most of the children go to school but not in the western manner in that they attend only a few hours a day. They are needed in the fields, shops or to scavenge for items useful in the home. Donkeys are used to carry loads and are also ridden of pull carts in the city. You can also see goats being herded between feeding grounds in any part of the city and eventually, their carcass’ hanging from hooks alongside roads. During the traditional Spring cleaning, women took rugs and what little furniture they had and placed them on rooftops in order to clean house. The first kids I met were Samir & Jalweed, shoeshine boys who inspired the shoe distribution program. Smaller children, some as young as 2, supervised by older sisters who often have even younger siblings in their arms, make seemingly continuous treks to wells located most everywhere to fetch water. In Kabul, everyone contributes to maintaining a home.

To help a small amount, our house has instituted a recycling program. This has led me to being chased down the street like a rock star by several kids when I return home from coaching. Thanks to Miss Loriana, who has sent a continuous stream of treats, the kids know that there is something more than empty cans to be had at the Air Serv house. Recently, the lot next to our new house in “Poppyville” (Homes built by affluent drug lords) was prepared for construction with digging of a 15ft deep pit, which is now the preferred soccer field for a dozen or so boys in the neighborhood. Next to that is another vacant lot, home of evening cricket matches between Pakistani construction workers. Often invited to play, I’m currently working on my bowling technique but have found batting somewhat easier than swinging a baseball bat.

As the August dog days of Summer linger in Central Asia, there is a sense that the people of Afghanistan are enjoying a final warm month before the seasons change. Most colorful are the kites. Just as March is the month for kite flying in North America, so is August in the foothills of the Hindu Kush Mountains. Many of you have read Kaled Hosseni’s bestseller “The Kite Runner”. There was a time just five years ago when the Taliban banned the simple act of a child flying a kite and a tyranny of Islamic fascism ruled this country. The very stadium where I spend my afternoons working with hopefuls for the Beijing & London Olympic Games, banned women, mandated prayer during what few soccer matches were permitted and for halftime entertainment, performed amputations and executions.

At the stadium today, I can teach boys how to properly stretch before a workout, enjoy a tea break with a Special Olympian, and video relay exchanges from the four men heading next week to the South Asian Games in Sri Lanka; all while a soccer match is being contested in the midfield with about 1000 spectators usually receptive, but generally oblivious to a foreigner pacing the track.

Still, my most enjoyable runs are those through the small villages of mud brick homes & kiosks selling everything from nan bread to watermelons. On any given day, I can sight well over two-dozen kites in the air. Many are made of discarded plastic grocery bags and small sticks. All are flown by boys that launch them from vacant lots, flat rooftops and along side graves marking the north side of Swimming Pool Hill. Older boys have slightly more elaborate kites and a friend holding the string line. The better flyers seek one another and engage in a kite war.

A kite war is when two kiters try and outperform one another in either height or how close they can come to the ground without crashing. I the end, the kites will tangle until the stronger kite breaks the line of the other.

Add this to the shot put competitions, soccer & cricket matches, volleyball games and wrestling and you have a good idea how Afghan boys spend idle time. Americans did not come here to provide for the playing of games and flying kites. There are still those here that still desire a return to tyranny and my head removed but the new freedoms established in this part of the country have endeared most Afghans to the efforts of our nation, even if it was in reaction to the 5th anniversary of an event we mark in one month.

Check your email very soon for a glimpse at leisure time activities of the expatriates: The 1st Annual Mine Field Open Golf Classic.

As always, this and archive stories can been seen, compliments of the efforts of Jim Durham, at: www.thelukenfiles.com

JLH
 

Cricket anyone?

Let's go fly a kite...(in a graveyard?)

All that jazz