Battlefield Tourist

Ok, so things are sucking a little right now. I seriously have to look at this as a game to keep my humor up. To shed some light: We are located in a a walled compound that is a regular sized home, except here in Afghanistan, where it is probably "upper-class". I live upstairs with Ahmed, who is currently covering the fighting in Mazar-e-Shareef, leaving me to fend for myself.
The communication gap is quite wide and there is some noticeable frustration on both sides. Not overtly, just subtle hints. I decided my best course of language action would be Farsi. Everyone says Turkish is quite difficult. Everyone also concurs Farsi is "easy". Whatever. It's half Arabic, so I figured it would be benificial regardless. So I take a little in at a time.
I've been turning a story a day. Did about 4 or so on "the good things" the Army does. They do plenty of good here and it is a difficult situation, but I definatly got played. I'm hoping that by taking it like I did, it will get me farther along when the Marines deploy. The major told me no embeds until at least May 1st. So I'll be working angle hard.
Back to my initial thought: The yard is half green half brown. We have a year old dog called something foreign (Kip-cha - I think). We also have a puppy that has appeared since I was in Kandahar. It's a small yellow lab looking thing. Very nice. Very puppy. The first thing I did was pulled four dime-sized ticks off his ears. Nice.
So you walk into our front door and can go straight and left up the stairs to a couple of bedrooms, a SAT room and the bathroom. Hang a quick left through the front door and you can go to the kitchen or the "living room". The furniture is comfy, but the TV is ALL foreign to me. So I suffer with the BBC on my shortwave as my only form of English in it's native form. The rooms are rooms and the beds are small. The bathroom - no toilet seat. No water or electricity during the day either. Everything is actually rather primitive. Not "Survivor"-style, but we are definately "roughing it".
Constant honking and dust; just sitting outside is a bad move while typing this.
You would not believe the pollution and smell. Today it's particularly bad. In fact, I just retreated inside it's so bad. Even in here there's dust everywhere. No signs of fleas or mosquitos yet, but the flies are starting to get bad. Heidi would hate it here for sure. In fact, I'd bet most of you would hate it here.
So my roommates/coworkers: To be honest, I haven't got all their names yet. Still working on that. We'll start with Ahmed. We'll, I've already described him: Pak/Afghan looks central Asia. Speaks a number of languages from the area and is very bright. He definatly loves his his job, but has been here a long while straight and needs a vacation. He's still in Mazar, without me, and that isn't a good thing in my opinion. My job is NOT to be in Kabul, and here I'm trapped. He's off proving he can do it alone, which is fine, but I'm stuck and feeling very on the out. He is "the glue" of this bureau, for sure. Strong leader that wants to be a nomad.
Beyond that is Qu'ban (like Ricky Riccardo saying "Cuban"). 21, calls me Mr. David, Sir, and is pretty much the house gopher. Him and I do some Fasri/English stuff. I'm sure we'll do more once I get my bearings.
I'm actually a little irritated at him: Yesterday we're eating lunch with one of the Turkish engineers, Nadir (short, loud, kick-boxer, and speaks zero english). The two of them are talking and laughing and making the general charrades-type of gestures that made it clear (eventually), that they were trim the puppies ears and whack off its tail.
I'd forgotten about it until Qu'bon says, "Come Mr. Dave...". In his hand is a big knife and a bedpan-like bowl thing with something in it. I declined his persistent offering and I retreated to the house as he grabbed the puppy. Kind of sucked for me because there is no where for me to go to get away from this. A few seconds later I hear the dog squeal and the Turk start laughing. A few minutes later, I see the puppy, intact, and seemingly fine. A few minutes after you hear the puppy squealing away and Nadir laughing away... quite the irony. After a few minutes of this, the puppy comes running toward me, blood all over his face and no tail but a stub. Soon there's blood everywhere and I'm not very happy. They know it but they think it's funny. I can only chalk it up to MAJOR cultural differences.
This morning I'm getting ready to head out with another friend, Abdullah (Abu). He's an Afghan and knows English somewhat. He's trying hard. We are set to cover the release of nine Taliban prisoners (or people thought to be), most after two years imprisonment. So we're walking through the stereo-typical middle eastern slum of yesteryear looking for this release. From waiting forever for Abu to get back with information that was good enough for two taxi rides and a lucky turn later, that we found the place. Of course, it's all breaking up. Abu is starting to get tense because I'm in "relax" mode. I have found that in stressful situations, when you relax and concentrate, you will prevail over hurried and freaking out.
So there's these journalists talking to these guys in some language I have no clue in, and Abu is against the wall watching me. After getting some b-roll (as much as I could before they moved to the stage), I prod Abu into taking the mic and getting some interviews. I swear, it seems as though he was content with what I was doing, but I had no clue what anyone was saying. Crazy morning. I pulled together a story because Abu didn't get any info while I was shooting. Granted: We got the grand slum tour and we were late, but we still came back with no information. So with a couple of facts and a translation of the interviews, I was able to put together a story and send it down. There wasn't a lot of TV crew action, so I'm sure we'll get some sales there. I sent in two stories today, so that makes six plus 15 photos
Unfortunately, I can't even get feedback. The internet cafe is 15 minutes through Crapsville (I'm probably gonna catch Cholera or something) and my computer is worth more than one makes here in 15 years. On top of that, I am one the FEW white boys out here that isn't behind the base walls holding a gun. To make matters worse, the Turks have run all the minutes out of the SAT phone, so I have nothing to get my work done with. I have to admit, this is definitly more difficult than covering a Turkish trial last year in Gaziantep.
Tonight, some good news: As the sun set in the haze of Kabul, I took to the field that needed no Turkish, English, or Farsi. Yes, it was soccer, and I finally had some fun.