meat of human

There are big warlords, and there are little warlords. Big bombs and little bombs. Suicide attacks are happening with increasing regularity in Kabul, but when you consider that 3 or 4 people die out of a city of 4 million, the risk of actually getting killed by a bomb is very small.

The bomb up north last month, though, was one of the big ones. Not just because more people died than in any blast in Afghan history. Not just because there were six delegates (the entire economic committee) and 70-odd schoolkids that died. But because no one took responsibility. And thus the bomb is like a question mark for Afghans - was it Taliban? warlords? Even Karzai himself gets blamed in the furious rumor mill that has its own aftershocks and casualities.

That is the significance of the bomb up in Baghlan. I went to Baghlan a few weeks ago and did this story for The World. You'll understand the title of this blog if you hear the piece. If you don't have time to listen, I'll just say that 10 days after the bomb the trees were still red.

(And yes, for those most loyal readers, this is the same story I talked about doing with Dr. Daud up north, i'm just a dork and forgot to post it until now.)

give me my top

got my visa today. The five hour ordeal involved trips to two different ministries and four different offices. By afternoon I was ready to eat the carbon paper. Finally we got the various stamps and signatures and we drove across town so I could pay the $10 fee for the visa itself. The bank is a dimly lit old building inlaid with marble and mahogany and dust. My teller had blocked off his window with a newspaper; looking closer I saw it was the NATO propaganda paper. I had nothing to do but wait and read the tortured syntax: "After long periods of suffering and destruction, Afghanistan is moving forward, not the least of which, economically," began the lead article. The next article was "Taliban Kill Hostage." Then there was something about kids in a library.



Then I heard a voice from behind the newsprint. I stooped down to the little slot and eyed the teller, whose suit matched his gray moustache. "Give me my top," he said again.

"Top?" I said.

I shuffled through the multiple thin sheets of paper with dari script I was clutching. It was only when he used the arabic word bakshish that i realized he was asking for a tip. I just laughed and he laughed and he gave me another thin sheet of paper with scribbles and I left, having paid my $10 and no more.

I think what surprises me about bribe-taking in afghanistan is not how common it is but how half-hearted. I've been asked for bribes dozens of times but they always back down pretty quickly. Unlike in the former Soviet Union, where they rarely ask outright for the bribe but god help you if you don't pay something, or know someone, because you will dribble half your life away waiting for fairness on the cold tile under the fluorescent bulb.

children with adult faces

finally got myself a cell phone with a camera, so expect a lot of grainy pics of kabul from here on. these were two kids i happened to meet yesterday. the boy on the left is a shepherd, i passed him with his father leading a herd of sheep and a few goats down a kabul alley. (The alley near my house turns out to be the main thoroughfare between the squatter homes on the mountain and the street with all the butchers where blood runs down the gutter.) In the kid's hand is a thin tree branch he uses to whip the animals if they fall out of line, though, really there's nowhere to go. I squeeze around the animals copping a feel of rough warm wool as I pass by.

the boy on the right is a chimney sweep I guess you'd say, he cleans out the neighborhood wood stoves (bukari's). I met him this evening in the corner store. I turned around and there's the afghan huck finn at my shoulder just staring at me. His ruddy cheeks are smeared with grey ash. His voice is like a hammer hit hard on iron. He's speaking Dari but I can't understand even a single word he says. He goes over to the cooler and grabs a carton of juice and tips it down his throat. I request a picture. First he says no, then he laughs and says yes. Then he gets shy and hides behind the cooler. This photo was taken during the yes period.

According to the Human Development Index 2007 released last month, life expectancy in Afghanistan is 43 years. That's down from 44.5 years in 2003.

"Afghans live almost nine years less than people in other Least Developed Countries, the report's findings show."