The Great Kabul Mine Field Open
Kabul, Afghanistan
August 12, 2006

Afghanistan can be a dangerous place. But with a little guile and street smarts, like anywhere else, gems can be found. Such is the case in Kabul where I recently discovered the Kabul Golf Club.

Nestled in a valley beneath Lake Qargha is the course built by Americans in the 1960’s, closed by the Soviets (Too bourgeoisie) in the 70’s and mined by the Taliban (To much fun) in the 90’s. The club’s only Pro was jailed by both parties. To date, it is the only golf course ever built in Afghanistan.

After passing a flyer among my peers at Air Serv International, the inaugural “Mine Field Open” was set for play. I made the trip to the course via my bicycle where my greatest obstacle was not IED’s or the Taliban, but the foul air of Kabul. Once crossing a small pass, the air and visibility both improved greatly & I descended into an open valley as the mountains came into clear view. After stopping by to make sure everything was in place with the course Pro, Muhammad Abdul, I returned to the bike and continued up a paved rural road that terminated at a small village at the foot of the Hindu Kush. It featured a ¼ scale replica of the Arc de Triomphe, rose gardens and plenty of stunned people surprised to see a white man on a bike. My guess is that the Taliban wanted to know what the Champs Elyeese looked like once they overthrew Paris (Not exactly a difficult thing to do, mind you). After some pictures with polite but curious citizens and swift descent downhill to the course, I met my fellow competitors, and the Open soon commenced.

By trade, I fly planes. By passion, I do triathlons. Still, I have a great respect for the game of golf. I’ve run on more golf courses them most men have played, including the Old Course at St. Andrews Scotland. Still, playing a round of golf in what used to be a minefield had intrigue. Our group consisted of pilots and an administrator from the United States, South Africa & Norway, none of whom were accomplished golfers, but were in dire need of getting out of the confines of a house complete with Kalashnikov carrying guards, curfews and many other restrictions on movement. Fortunately, one member of the household (who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty) regularly fractures most United Nations & household regulations in a never-ending quest to explore the best that Afghanistan has to offer. In this case…golf.

The Championship began on the side of the dam and meandered through the arid desert outside the confines and sprawl of Kabul. Every shot by every player was a perfect lie due to young ball boys who would chase after each shot. Upon arrival, regardless of location, he’d have the ball lying on a small piece of Astroturf and ready for the next shot. “Greens” were, in fact “Browns” made up of oil and sand and swept after each hole by a boy with an old Afghan carpet attached to a stick. It got the job done. Local caddies judged each player’s ability and made excellent suggestions in proper club selection.

Of course, there were plenty of errant shots, miscues and expletives unique to the respective nations competing. My favorite was the shout of “Bloody F*&#!” after each drive by the robust Rihan the South African, no doubt having picked up the phrase from Gary Player or Ernie Els. At the end of the day, however, he possessed the only birdie of the round. (Nobody said this was an easy course!)

Without a doubt, the shot of the day was by a free swinging American named Ron. On a short Par 3, a group of Afghans parked their mini-van in a rare spot of shade but right next to the “Green” and were enjoying a quiet picnic. Moments after shouting “Fore!” the side view mirror of the van lay in pieces along with some very startled Afghans. After two errant shots returned a false sense of security, the author landed another shot in the middle of what once was a nice picnic. Again, men scattered & we all worried about the pending Jihad. Fortunately, Ron was able to pay the owner $12 in damages for the mirror. The author was only politely asked by the men if it was OK for them to remain on the course.

At the end of the day, no land mines were found, and the only hint of altercation remaining in the area was an abandoned Soviet tank perched atop a hill overlooking the course. The author scored a one shot victory over a gutsy South African and both men learned they had bettered scores of the larger “Kabul Desert Classic” played later that day. The author was awarded the title: “Champion Golfer of the Year” (Afghanistan).

A pleasant lakeside victory lunch was enjoyed by all golfers interrupted by a short burst of 7.62mm ammunition from a policeman to quell a local disturbance. We departed the course to see the Desert Classic contended with one foursome under the watchful eye of a man wearing a bulletproof vest & carrying an intimidating firearm. I thought about how this may be the best golf story ever told in my family. Then I remembered that my Dad once played a round with Jack Nicklaus. I guess I can one day hunt for a tiger.

JLH
 

The Open begins

Valley view of the Open course

The road hole

Finishing hole

Shot of the day