Standing in the long line before the Kam Air counter in Delhi’s IGIairport, got talking with one Mr. Masoud. The young Mr. Masoud was theMarketing Manager of Roshan, Afghanistan’s largest mobile serviceprovider. Like him, many of the Afghans returning home had come toIndia for medical treatment. As was my co passenger, Mr. Hakimi. Mr.Hakimi was the Director of the MDG – possibly the Millenium DeminingGroup. Considering that millions of mines (and UXO) had been leftbehind by the Russians, this is a crucial post war activity.As we flew over the rugged lanscape of the Hindu Kush (north Pakistanand south Afghanistan), I was struck by its beauty and the fact thatsnow lay deep on the mountains. Surely, this is a country that hastremendous reserves of fresh water……Alongside the runway of Kabul International Airport, there were dozensof green army helicopters with the gunships clearly identifiable bytheir slim shapes and their forward cannon aggressively jutting out. Abitterly cold Kabul International Airport greeted me. This is the onlyoccasion that someone claiming to be airport staff passed my bagthrough the X ray machine after I landed! Of course, he “charged” meRs.50 for it!Picked up by the driver, I rode to the Aga Khan Foundation office.Streets were largely deserted but police and army units wereeverywhere. Olive green Ford pick ups with the tell tale machine gunmount dashed around. With “Police” written in English and the Arabic ?script, one understood their hurry.After the usual initial pleasantries at the office, drove off to thenearest shopping mall – a one storied affair quite unlike Indian orwestern malls. High on my agenda was a carton of Lucky Strikes which Ididn’t get but settled for the red Marlboros instead. The shopassistant there was thrilled while dealing with this Indian. Speakinga mixture of Hindi and English, he went on about Indian tv sitcoms andfilms – an area outside my purview.Clutching my white plastic bag which contained the Malboros, we werestopped by a police man. Another with an AK – 47 sidled up. Daud, thedriver, hollered about the green number plates we had and the cops letus go. Green, as I was later told, is for NGOs, blue for the UN.On rutted inner roads, made my way to the guest house. It was eveningand the roads were deserted. Daud patiently waited till the gate wasopened. Was fear an all pervasive concern? I would find out later.During dinner, served much earlier than in India, I met some of theother residents of the guest house. One Mr. Nasher, an African Indianwho had been living in Edmonton for 25 years and was currently engagedin writing a proposal for FOCUS, the AKF disaster relief organization.Another was Mr. Yusuf, a Pakistani from Toronto. The institution herewas Baba, Chacha or plain Kaka – a small old man of indefatigableenergy – forever cooking, cleaning and doing any of the dozen thingsthat made life at the guest house pleasant. Kaka and I hit it off ashe had some knowledge of Urdu having spent several years at a refugeecamp in Pakistan like many other Afghans I met.A special mention must be made of Sigfrido Romeo, a Sicilianagronomist, resident of the guest house. An early bird, he would leavefor work at 7 sharp and return at 8.30 P.M. Apart from his endearingcommunication skills – can anyone but a south Italian use his hands soexpressively? – Sigfrido drank one cup of green tea with lots ofsugar. That was breakfast and lunch. Dinner would be around 10 mediumsized onions. Boiled. This was, as he explained, an attempt to flushhis body of the quinine he had taken for 7 years while working inAfrica.Incidentally, Afghani food is less spicy (and certainly less hot) thanIndian food. Rice, those huge naans (known in India as “Kabuli naans”what else?), ‘lubiya’ (daal), ‘saabzi’ (green salad) and meat weretypical fare for lunch and dinner. The naan, like the Kalashnikov, wasomnipresent being served for breakfast also.The amount of security in Kabul is amazing. Police, army and privatesecurity - all armed with Kalashnikovs. Pretty much sure that most ofthem are completely untrained. Would add to the general mayhem byfiring indiscriminately in case of a terror attack.....and Kabul hashad over 20 major Fidayeen attacks in the last 3 months.....Further down the road where I lived was a fortified building repletewith sandbags, pill boxes and camouflage netting too! Asked one of theAfghan drivers what it was and was aghast to learn that it wasL'Atmosphere - a leading eatery in Kabul!Went with an Indonesian friend to the Golden Key - a leading Chinesechop joint. Again, private security with the omnipresent AK - 47s(apparently these are 'assembled' in cottage/home industries inPakistan within 20 minutes!). While entering the narrow corridor, Inoticed a steel vault - rather like those safe deposit boxes in abank's strong room. Of course, the message there was 'Pls. ensureweapons are unloaded first'!The fear psychosis fuels and grows......and is certainly not conduciveto the growth of a society after 30 years of war.......There's even worse to follow. Many of the Afghans I met are of thestrong opinion that coalition forces have been clandestinely droppingarms in Talibani held areas to keep the war going.....With 80+ percent of the international arms market cornered by theU.S., it's worth dying for......Besides, it gives the flag waver back home something to root for andnever mind a few body bags....besides, what better way to keep the'trailer trash' occupied? Think of the 'nayes' in case they all camehome and had no jobs.....One also needs to look at Afghanistan in the geo political context. Tothe west is Iran, southwards is Pakistan, north of Kunduz is Russia.Similarly, Uzbekistan and Takistan are to the north of Badakshanprovince. China is to the east. Too important, too strategic.Of course, it also takes care of "development wallahs" like me. Thinkof the vast numbers of international staff ngos there employ...andalso the chance to palm off all the bogus technology. Of course, youneed a few dozen Toyotas and never mind if they can't go where localdonkeys, mules and horses can. There's also the matter of spares andfuel. All imported. Keeps big business happy. Even the drinking watercomes from Nestle’s of Pakistan.What more do we need?What was striking too was the desperation of boys/young men in tryingto wipe your car clean during the frequent traffic jams...Met another agronomist, Fazal in Kabul. He's from the NWFP province.Swat valley to be precise. He's moved his family to Islamabad ,fearingthe worst which finally happened with the peace deal with the Taliban.Fazal had 'predicted' all that is happening in Pakistan today. TheNawaz Sharif led Punjabi 'dare' to the Sindhi Zardari, the attempts toplacate the sacked Chief Justice, Iftekar Chaudhury whose movement forInsaf is gathering steam, the dubious and meddlesome role of the army.All that is now coming home to roost......Let's see what the American bailout package is this time around.....Exiting Kabul in the early hours (the Indian Airlines flight is at9.40 A.M.), we were treated to some more frisking of self and baggage.This happened at least at three points and funnily enough, the baggagewas x rayed just once! I couldn’t see a monitor and much less theperson manning it! If this wasn’t enough, IA has its own security setup with a small plastic table set atop the steps that lead to theplane. My carefully concealed matchboxes and a spare battery wereunceremoniusly thrown away and I was finally free to board Flight IC244.cheers,
ashis
