Battlefield Tourist

I've explained it before, but every once in a while an event happens that forces me to once again explain why I keep this blog.
Obviously, I do it first for my family and friends, so they can keep up with me.
Second is because I like to write. Third is because the past few years have been such a wild roller coaster that I felt it would be of interest to others to see the ups and down of one freelance dreamer's life. Today reminds me of this final reason.
Turns out that IHA has been in talks with a major US network that wants to meet me via satellite for an interview. This is huge news in so many ways that I'm still processing it. Obviously this is a HUGE moment in my career. This could lead to steady live work from Afghanistan through the elections. It could also lead to bigger and better things. Every day would be a job interview. Hmmm....
It's also something that comes as I'm about to go on a break. That obviously has some grief involved. This is also a good sign that IHA may step to the plate at our upcoming negotiations. They seem very pleased. A lot to think about. A lot of possibilities.
On the flip side: I'm pretty much out of time to go on another mission. Too bad, too. Not going to harp on it, but it is definitely disappointing that I couldn't get out this month. I've decided that I did everything in my power to get out. Just wasn't good enough this time. So I made contact with the Canadians and the French and might do some stuff with them. I'm also going to do some Afghan National Army stuff before I leave. Guess I'll be coasting into vacation.

Two cases that prove Murphy's Law applies to Afghanistan

1. Kamaal is a very crazy driver. It's bad enough in Kabul, but he is one of the far extreme "aggressive" drivers. One day while we are going to Afghan.com, he decides to park on the sidewalk, which is not uncommon here. What is uncommon is three soldiers telling you to move. Kamaal, who doesn't know Dari, is telling these soldiers in Turkish essentially, "Too bad." He throws his hands up and walks to the cafe. I'm just trying to hide.
At the cafe, we find that the power is out and therefore, they are closed. So we go back to the car. On the way, Kamaal gives the guards one of those, "Here.. we'll move our car..." types of gestures. He than backed into the gutter and we're stuck.
I get out and am terribly embarrassed. All I can do is look at the guards and laugh with them. They aren't busting out in laughter, but were satisfied for sure.
An Afghan gutter is nothing to play with. They're about two feet deep and a foot and a half across, constructed of very hard concrete. They usually average about six inches of trash, mud, and raw sewage flowing through and are the usual origin of the constant smell that is almost always present here.
Wham! We go in and I know we aren't getting out. I get out to look and feel like an ass. Kamaal gets out and tries to put stuff under the wheel to act as grip or something, but the tire is sitting in there spinning freely. We're hung on the axle.
It takes Kamaal three minutes before he's trying to round up the three soldiers to help him get out. It was as if nothing had just happened. I was amazed. With kudos to the soldiers, two came over with humble smiles and lifted the car out of the gutter.

2. You may remember sometime ago, our houseboy, Qubon, chopped the ears and the tail off the house pup, Damut. That earned Qubon the Dave-name,
"Tali-qubon".
For whatever reason, Qubon like to torture Damut. It's not the vicious torture, it's more subtle, but torturous none the less.
Yesterday I hear Damut yelping and go out to see Qubon giving him little kicks and all. Damut is acting like my cat, Stoopid, and is exaggerating some. Regardless, I tell Qubon to stop, which like usual, entices him to step the abuse up. So I grab a shovel and start chasing him, suggesting I cut his ears off. I do a full 360 power swing when, "SCHAAAAWING!!" The spade part of the shovel flew off and headed straight toward Qubon.
Like in slow motion it hit him right in the side of the head and across the ear and then the mouth. I thought he was dead.
Fortunately, as fast as that spade was moving, it didn't penetrate his skin and he's fine, if not humbled.
I'm now known as Dave-taliban.