sunny slopes of the hindu kush

sunny slopes of the hindu kush
Willard Kurtz's room

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

What's Goin On?

This is Afghanistan outside of the wire.  The Russians mined most of it.  Today, Afghans clear the mine fields.  The bad guys can get a little closer.  What's a bad guy?  Anyone that launches a rocket or fires a mortar in to your neighborhood. Keeping it simple.
   "What's Goin On?" the Marvin Gaye song that summed up the 60's for me still sings true.  "We have got to find a way to bring some lovin here today."  Then like now we have to find a way out of the madness.  And then like now I listen to music, read literature and gaze at art which gives me hope.  There is no hope in politics it is nothing more than a prescription for despair. You can put your faith in Mozart and know that he touches the sublime.  Or you can listen to Motown feeling the hope of gospel, the energy of jazz and the street poetry of Marvin Gaye.  Or like myself you can stake out a small piece of a trout stream where you can find an interior world of delicate mayflies and soft currents that beckon to thee.  Maybe, its just keeping the faith in the things that are true: art, the creation and a fly rod.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The Good Guys

The 1st Sgt. is a huge man. He has what used to be called a crew cut, a thick neck and a slight limp. There is kindness in his eyes that dart everywhere while he talking to you. When he is sitting down his legs are always moving you feel the nervous energy unbound and relentless. You would have to be half crazy to fuck with him. There is too much of him. This is his seventh deployment. He has done time in Iraq and Afghanistan. War is his profession.
Sgt. Sugar looks like Woody Strode in the movies. He is 6’3’’ and moves with both power and grace. I first saw him shooting baskets outside the Red Cross office. He shoots the ball a little above his head his wrist cocked releasing the ball with a high arc. The ball sails through the hoop and you hear the crisp sound of the net snapping.
Big events are the basketball games on the broken concrete court. When the Sgt plays it is a man with boys. He drinks coffee with his sugar. He has both a calm and an interior ferocity. He is always measuring you with his eyes after your released he will give you an easy that’s cool smile.
Sgt. First Class is tall, lengthy and country. He could be Gary Cooper. He never raises his voice and has a naturally warmth. Like most of the soldiers with Task Force Bastogne he has been deployed multiple times. Somehow he kept a quality of innocence about him. How you do that is beyond my imagination.
SSGT. Ladyday is from the Caribbean islands. She handles the Red Cross messages that can flood into to TF Bastogne. She knows where all of her soldiers are at all times. She never gets testy over the messages. At the gym with her headphones on she sings Oletta Adams songs and swings her wide hips with an insouciant freedom.

snap shots

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Saturday, January 1, 2011

humorless men

Only a humorless man could look at Afghanistan and see hope.
Exhibit 1 – Karzai who has an affable smile and would be an excellent game show contestant is the leader of Afghanistan. He is whom we have pinned out hopes and treasure on. We go to bed each night praying that he is taking his medication for bi-polar episodes. God save us.
Exhibit 2 – Karzai’s brother makes Vito Corolene look like St. Francis of Assisi. When the U.S. money train arrived his brother bought a semi to haul the cash.
Exhibit 3 – The country has an illiteracy rate of 85%. We are sending over teams of lawyers to assist in writing new Afghani law which only 15% of the population can understand, maybe. We are also developing a police force which can’t read the laws they are supposed to enforce. Could it be that the only net gain in Afghanistan after we leave is the country will need more lawyers.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Operation Clean

We are supposed to have a team of Afghani’s that clean the office. This was our Christmas present from TF Bastogne. Almos is the team leader for Operation Clean at the Red Cross. He makes a point of being in command avoiding all physical labor and actively interpreting our wishes to his band of brothers. It is obvious he has a political feature. He started work two days before Christmas.
December 23 – Almos and his posse invade the Red Cross with brooms and Hefty garbage bags. Almos informs me that if I need anything he is my go to guy. I feel a bond. A brotherhood. I ask him how to say, “I hate dirt” in Dari. He says something like “Ma gang hawk” The “hawk” is very guttural and prolonged like a cough. I have the team chanting “Ma gang hawk”. The team is using dirty water to mop the floor. I demand clean water and they adjust. Everything in the office is done in about 15 minutes. I see a coming together of nations.
December 24 – I wait until mid-day seeking my posse of sanitation. I’m informed they do not work on Fridays.
December 25 – Christmas and the office will be spotless. Almos and his team are still not around.
December 26 – Almos arrives back in the office. He brings only one of troops who sweeps with passion. Almos pours a healthy cup of coffee and asks where the sugar is. He takes his cup plopping himself into the massage chair. He is a Lord and his vassal sweeps next to him. I tell him we need bottles of water and we still have to mop. He says, “He will be right back.”
December 27 – Almos is not to be seen.
These are the people we are turning the security over to. They have an 85% illiteracy rate (not that this is bad thing). They just live on Venus and we live on Mars.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Santa ain't coming to town

The wind blew dust today until you couldn't see. Now the wind is carrying winter to us. The soldiers put on an extra layer of clothing as they stare out at the barren trees along the river bed. The enemy, the bad guys, the evil doers stare at the wire. They have been staring for thousands of years.

The soldier stares at a goat herd. This is a country buried in the 13th century. He wonders if there is a word for "Peace" in Dari or Pashtun. Christmas is two days away. Santa doesn't fly over the Hindu Kush. He flies over Carmel,Ca. or Greenwhich, Ct or Beverly Hils,Ca. but he isn't landing in Afghanistan.

The soldier lifts up his collar looking up at the stars that sprinkle the sky. It is a cold lonely planet and Afghanistan is a place that doesn't tolerate remorse.