kandahar is kanda great

arrived in kandahar early this afternoon on a UN flight. Sat next to an Afghan Turk who hunched gnome-like under his patoo and mumbled fascinating theories about the tribal dynamics of southern afghanistan in a voice so quiet i gave myself a neckache trying to hear him above the propellor. The plane was full of important people and i felt a little silly in my pajama outfit.

Kandahar sort of reminds me of Jerusalem, a more conservative, more spiritual place than dusty noisy Kabul. Foreigners are rare. Today I was waiting outside the police HQ waiting for permission to interview the chief. There was a young guard staring hard at me and smiling. Maybe 17 or 18 years old, all of 90 lbs, his frame so small his pants were safety-pinned at the waist, the Kalashnikov around his chest almost too heavy for him. He wanted to touch my hand and we sort of communicated in rudimentary hand gestures. (I speak a tiny amount of Dari at this point, but I speak absolutely no Pashto.) Still, I believe I understood him as saying, "Welcome to my country. I know that some of people want to shoot you? But not me!"