Links
Archives
- 01/01/2003 - 02/01/2003
- 02/01/2003 - 03/01/2003
- 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004
- 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004
- 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004
- 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004
- 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004
- 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004
- 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004
- 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004
- 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004
- 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004
- 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004
- 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005
- 08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007
Time to once again open my life up a little in order to share the plethora of wealth I'm about to absorb. I'm going to be back in Iraq through September, so hop on board and check back every couple of days, I'll do my best to update as much as possible. Questions? dtate38@cox.net And check out the site I'm working with: http://www.billroggio.com Support independent journalism!
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Wednesday, October 6th 2004
Earlier that night, the U.N. guy told me he would set me up with a ride because we had no clue how to find the guesthouse where the media was plannned to stay as well as the military PAO. Just before dark, I realized the guy had gone and left us hanging. So not only can we not find our satellite, but we have no food, no water and no clue where to get some. We put our best foot forward and pitched the cots on the roof of the stadium for a brisk night under the stars. Even though I had three blankets, the wind still managed to find its way into my slumber, keeping me up much of the night.
Thursday, October 7th 2004
The sun pops up around 0530 here and when it does, I do as well, so I took a tour of what we were setting up in. The stadium is in the middle of renovation which is supposed to be done for the elections, but won't even come close. Hardly any windows in the place which allows the dust to permeate the building at will. Guarding the place is about 35 Afghan local and national police. Most under 23, I'd say, most smoked a ton of hash. The bathrooms were nothing less than horrendous. Afghans don't use the typical toilet we do. They have a porcellin hole in the floor which requires great aim from all direction. Toilet paper? Forget it. There is a water squirting hose that everyone gets to use. Best part is that the bathrooms weren't finished either and were quickly turned into huge, disgusting messes.
If there is one thing I cannot understand or stand about the Afghans, is that they have no concept of cleansliness. They crap and piss in public, anywhere they please. There is no concept of litter whatsoever and just everything in general is dirtier than dirty. It's just so ironic because these people wash five times a day before praying, but after that, it's back to a complete disregard for sanitation. It was so bad in fact, I could hardly walk down the hall without thinking about what it was I was walking on.
Things got better later that morning when we finally found the satellite. Ooops... wrong satellite. Keep trying. Two hours later... BINGO! Odd... a bird that is supposed to be at 10 degrees east, is actually 10 degrees nearly due west? What? At heast we found it. Unfortunately, now the ampliphier doesn't work and it appears as if things are heading for a major dissapointment. BBC has been waiting to feed now for two days, and I can't promise them they will be able to feed tonight. "Call back in two hours." All I can think is that the trip damaged it somehow and Umit doesn't look happy.
Night is on us again and BBC is worried. Finally, as BBC calls back again, I'm able to give them the great news that Umit and Istanbul figured out the problem and we were in business.
So BBC starts to feed, but there's audio problems. Istanbul says all is fine there. London says it is not there. I have no idea and can only watch as Umit tries to get it fixed. Meanwhile, the BBC cameraguy is starting to raise his voice at Umit, and since it is in English, Umit has no clue what is up with him. So I have to remind the guy we have come sx days and spent the last 36 hours trying to get the system up. That got everything to normal and we pushed on. Eventually they had to settle for mixed audio on one track. Better that a four hour feed over the internet. Time: 2345.
Friday, Oct 8th 2004
Another freezing cold night, but as the sun rises, it quickly burns off and gets hot quick. I was the only one up when Govorner Pashtun made a surprise visit to the stadium. He wals up on the verranda where he sees Umit snoozing away and the place looking more like a dorm room.
I immediately greeted him, though I don't think he recognized me. Why should he? I've only met him four times, twice over lunch. Hell, he's a busy man. So I give him a rundown of the operation, he thanks me and moves on. I must've been a break for the police because he spent the rest of the time chewing them and the contracters out. I don't speak Pashtu, but I do know a few words and they were not nice. Afterall, the governor was about to host the world media and this place is a dump.
A few hours later I get a tip from the UN guy who abandonned me a few nights before: They were getting ready to blow a tanker full of gas and explosives. Sweet!! Spot news! Reuters happened to be there as well, so using my tip, their contacts and car, we sped off to find the fireworks. After grabbing the Al Jazeera guy, we made our way to Kandahar's main gate. Like many cities in the Middle East and Central Asia, you literally drive through high, arched gates to get into a city. At this gate, the road forked: One north to Kabul, the other east to Pakistan. No coin tossing here. The Reuters guy asked the guard where the action was and he pointed off toward Pakistan. Barely a mile up the road, we were stopped by an ANA (National Army) roadblock and they weren't going to let us in. Just then, an American ETT (Embedded Training Team) pulled up with ANA soldiers and were getting some direction from the guards. That's where my nationality works well (that and the guuuy was from the 76th Indiana). "Hey, I'm with the press." as I show him my credentials. "Mind if we follow you in?" Ding!! So we head toward where the EOD was staging; the truck half hidden by a ridge a half a kilometer away. At first the military seemed a little squirrly, but after a few minutes warmed up to us and even gave interviews. That's really all we needed because a dust storm was setting in and the time of demolition was unknown. Not only that, but we would be kept back far enough that we wouldn't see much through the storm. We raced back to the stadium where I fed. As we'd later report, the truck was filled with gas and explosives in the tires. Three Pakistanis arrested. The sobering news: It was desitined for the stadium in which we were camped at.
We'd been living on MRE's for a few days and the internet has been off and on with the electricity, so I decided it was time to find the guest house. I knew the walk was just four or five blocks, but none the less, I felt like I was about to jump out of a plane. This is where I get a wierd sort of adrenaline rush from adventure traveling. It's the time you get to see the native land in its rawest form. Bad part is that a warning has just been issued by the State Department concerning kidnappings and I'm hiking through some neiighborhood in Taliban-infested Kandahar, alone and with no weapon. Just breathe....
The walk was really uneventful, a number of surprised looks followed by genuine smiles and a wave, "Salaam Aliekum." in which I would say, "Aliekum Salaam." No problems. Very interesting.
I find the guesthouse and the room in which the PAO is in and ask to fiile my story from there. He has no problems and I get to work. an hour later, I'm ready to go find some food. I don't really look to hard because, well, it's Kandahar. But I do take a detour to a rug shop where I find a great deal on a nice 3x10 runner that will soon be on my neighbor's floor. With business done and the wind picking up, it's time to head back and ride out the storm, which is kind of fitting; tommorow is election day and there has been no trouble to speak of, yet.
Earlier that night, the U.N. guy told me he would set me up with a ride because we had no clue how to find the guesthouse where the media was plannned to stay as well as the military PAO. Just before dark, I realized the guy had gone and left us hanging. So not only can we not find our satellite, but we have no food, no water and no clue where to get some. We put our best foot forward and pitched the cots on the roof of the stadium for a brisk night under the stars. Even though I had three blankets, the wind still managed to find its way into my slumber, keeping me up much of the night.
Thursday, October 7th 2004
The sun pops up around 0530 here and when it does, I do as well, so I took a tour of what we were setting up in. The stadium is in the middle of renovation which is supposed to be done for the elections, but won't even come close. Hardly any windows in the place which allows the dust to permeate the building at will. Guarding the place is about 35 Afghan local and national police. Most under 23, I'd say, most smoked a ton of hash. The bathrooms were nothing less than horrendous. Afghans don't use the typical toilet we do. They have a porcellin hole in the floor which requires great aim from all direction. Toilet paper? Forget it. There is a water squirting hose that everyone gets to use. Best part is that the bathrooms weren't finished either and were quickly turned into huge, disgusting messes.
If there is one thing I cannot understand or stand about the Afghans, is that they have no concept of cleansliness. They crap and piss in public, anywhere they please. There is no concept of litter whatsoever and just everything in general is dirtier than dirty. It's just so ironic because these people wash five times a day before praying, but after that, it's back to a complete disregard for sanitation. It was so bad in fact, I could hardly walk down the hall without thinking about what it was I was walking on.
Things got better later that morning when we finally found the satellite. Ooops... wrong satellite. Keep trying. Two hours later... BINGO! Odd... a bird that is supposed to be at 10 degrees east, is actually 10 degrees nearly due west? What? At heast we found it. Unfortunately, now the ampliphier doesn't work and it appears as if things are heading for a major dissapointment. BBC has been waiting to feed now for two days, and I can't promise them they will be able to feed tonight. "Call back in two hours." All I can think is that the trip damaged it somehow and Umit doesn't look happy.
Night is on us again and BBC is worried. Finally, as BBC calls back again, I'm able to give them the great news that Umit and Istanbul figured out the problem and we were in business.
So BBC starts to feed, but there's audio problems. Istanbul says all is fine there. London says it is not there. I have no idea and can only watch as Umit tries to get it fixed. Meanwhile, the BBC cameraguy is starting to raise his voice at Umit, and since it is in English, Umit has no clue what is up with him. So I have to remind the guy we have come sx days and spent the last 36 hours trying to get the system up. That got everything to normal and we pushed on. Eventually they had to settle for mixed audio on one track. Better that a four hour feed over the internet. Time: 2345.
Friday, Oct 8th 2004
Another freezing cold night, but as the sun rises, it quickly burns off and gets hot quick. I was the only one up when Govorner Pashtun made a surprise visit to the stadium. He wals up on the verranda where he sees Umit snoozing away and the place looking more like a dorm room.
I immediately greeted him, though I don't think he recognized me. Why should he? I've only met him four times, twice over lunch. Hell, he's a busy man. So I give him a rundown of the operation, he thanks me and moves on. I must've been a break for the police because he spent the rest of the time chewing them and the contracters out. I don't speak Pashtu, but I do know a few words and they were not nice. Afterall, the governor was about to host the world media and this place is a dump.
A few hours later I get a tip from the UN guy who abandonned me a few nights before: They were getting ready to blow a tanker full of gas and explosives. Sweet!! Spot news! Reuters happened to be there as well, so using my tip, their contacts and car, we sped off to find the fireworks. After grabbing the Al Jazeera guy, we made our way to Kandahar's main gate. Like many cities in the Middle East and Central Asia, you literally drive through high, arched gates to get into a city. At this gate, the road forked: One north to Kabul, the other east to Pakistan. No coin tossing here. The Reuters guy asked the guard where the action was and he pointed off toward Pakistan. Barely a mile up the road, we were stopped by an ANA (National Army) roadblock and they weren't going to let us in. Just then, an American ETT (Embedded Training Team) pulled up with ANA soldiers and were getting some direction from the guards. That's where my nationality works well (that and the guuuy was from the 76th Indiana). "Hey, I'm with the press." as I show him my credentials. "Mind if we follow you in?" Ding!! So we head toward where the EOD was staging; the truck half hidden by a ridge a half a kilometer away. At first the military seemed a little squirrly, but after a few minutes warmed up to us and even gave interviews. That's really all we needed because a dust storm was setting in and the time of demolition was unknown. Not only that, but we would be kept back far enough that we wouldn't see much through the storm. We raced back to the stadium where I fed. As we'd later report, the truck was filled with gas and explosives in the tires. Three Pakistanis arrested. The sobering news: It was desitined for the stadium in which we were camped at.
We'd been living on MRE's for a few days and the internet has been off and on with the electricity, so I decided it was time to find the guest house. I knew the walk was just four or five blocks, but none the less, I felt like I was about to jump out of a plane. This is where I get a wierd sort of adrenaline rush from adventure traveling. It's the time you get to see the native land in its rawest form. Bad part is that a warning has just been issued by the State Department concerning kidnappings and I'm hiking through some neiighborhood in Taliban-infested Kandahar, alone and with no weapon. Just breathe....
The walk was really uneventful, a number of surprised looks followed by genuine smiles and a wave, "Salaam Aliekum." in which I would say, "Aliekum Salaam." No problems. Very interesting.
I find the guesthouse and the room in which the PAO is in and ask to fiile my story from there. He has no problems and I get to work. an hour later, I'm ready to go find some food. I don't really look to hard because, well, it's Kandahar. But I do take a detour to a rug shop where I find a great deal on a nice 3x10 runner that will soon be on my neighbor's floor. With business done and the wind picking up, it's time to head back and ride out the storm, which is kind of fitting; tommorow is election day and there has been no trouble to speak of, yet.
