Let's start turning this ship around...

Well, the main things that have jumped out at me about being here, I’ve written about. I’d like to get a good photo of Wais and the other staff on here. And I was thinking of investigating the make and model of mini-van we drive (I’ve never heard of it), so you can see some desperation begin to work its way into the blog. Maybe you already have. I’ve had the feeling the last couple days that I’m about ready to go back to New York. We shuttle back and forth to the university, and not much outside that—part of me wants to get out more, see more of the city, and another part wonders if that’s irresponsible. The challenges faced here are profound and will take years to sort out—if indeed they do get sorted out. The conveniences of modern infrastructure sound pretty good right now. I’d like to walk down the street and not think I have to watch my back all the time. This place is just so far removed from the west—and the ideological barriers seem more profound than I ever gave them credit for. I mean, you think about a country being Muslim, and that’s there. But, then we met the students and they’re young, interested, smiling people, and the religion thing sort of didn’t really occur to me until I had a couple of these conversations after class. Islam is so central and fundamental for these people. There have been three main stories on CNN International and BBC: that Indian gal who won Big Brother in Britain, global warming, and Islam in Europe. You think we’re nervous about Islam, the Europeans are terrified. I’ve gotten a forward on the topic that reminds me of “Japan-bashing” in the 1980’s. Remember when alarmists were saying we’d all be speaking Japanese? I tend to think these immigrants emigrate for a reason—they don’t want to recreate the crappy country they left. And while the children of some—out of place in their new country, out of place in the old—will embrace extremism as a form of belonging, the vast majority will become secular, peaceful consumerists. I just finished watching the Superbowl on tape delay (9:30 PM Monday)—the live game finished about 7:30 AM today. I asked the students about it this morning and they had no idea what the Superbowl was. I had to explain American Football—“football” here, as everywhere outside the US, is soccer. This is the forth time I’ve watched the Superbowl outside the US. The first time was in South Africa. Every US embassy around the world is guarded by Marines. Well, we managed to get invited to watch the Superbowl at the house where these Marines stayed. It was an enormous house with a full, finished basement including bar and pool table, backyard with barbeque pit, horseshoes (and maybe a pool, I’m not sure). There were some other folks there as well staying up until all hours. I remember also that there was just a barbarous amount of food. In Madrid, several of us met up at the Hard Rock Cafe. American sports in Madrid was pretty fun—you just had to put up with a very Boston-centric view of the world (BU and BC have lots of programs in Madrid). It was particularly fun watching the Red Sox beat the Yankees. As soon as the game was over, we were kicked out of the bar chanting “Yank-ees suck! Yank-ees suck!” I can only imagine the locals’ confusion—they called all Americans “Yankees.” The food has become a bit of an issue. Aziz is a nice fellow and all, but everything is cooked in just a ton of oil. He made us this “eggplant stuff” the first week, so we told him it was good and now that’s what we’re getting every other day it seems. And it’s starting to affect our guts. I’m silent but deadly (and constant these past two days!) and have come to learn that poor Mary is loud and airy. I’ve been a bit sick the past few days. Kabul is known for having poor air quality and there’s a signature cough called the “Kabul Krud,” which I’m guessing is what I’ve come down with. I’ve been trying to rest…but I’ve gotta write the blog! I’ve taken to calling Dr. J, our translator for class, “Dr. J.” He doesn’t get the reference, of course. Mary and I have been getting frustrated with the shortcomings of the students in the effort department and sometimes we dump on Dr. J on accident. At least I do. And the guy is just relentlessly cheerful. Maybe I secretly want to break him. N keeps trying to pull me into conversations about Islam. We spoke yesterday about how people in the US move away from their parents and don’t take care of them when they grow old. He thought that was very sad—“I get much happy from living with my fathers.” He said that Americans have the highest rate of depression (I don’t know if that’s true, but it wouldn’t surprise me—who’s going to diagnose depression for the people living in shantytowns in Kabul)But he also mentioned “responsibility,” so I got the feeling his sentiments were not as clear as he tried to make them seem. I told him that when I got old, if I had children, I wouldn’t want them to feel responsible for me, but to be able to have the happiest life they could have for themselves. Then he told me how his two brothers live in Europe—one is a doctor in Britain and the other an Engineer in Denmark. So I suppose he does feel responsible for taking care of his parents, and feels the tension of being able to leave. I have to say, if my parents lived in Kabul and I was a doctor or engineer elsewhere, I would do whatever I could to get them the heck outta there… I haven’t mentioned the females in class. As you may or may not know, relations between the sexes are totally different here. Often, our guards will greet me in the morning or afternoon and not greet Mary—it’s just what they are accustomed to. I wondered how things would work out for the females in our class. There are three and only one seems to be following the class very well—she’s pretty engaged and seems to keep up. The others, well, both started late and I’ve come to learn that the other hasn’t even started university yet—she’s one of the students hand-picked by the Chancellor to be in the course (most if not all these students scored the worst on our first exam). The females sit together, they wear scarves, but not full-on burkha’s or anything. You seen the guys go around greeting one another in the morning and horsing around or talking in large groups during the day. The females sit off in the distance on a bench and don’t mix with the guys socially at all.