NYC-DC-KBL

I flew from DC on Tuesday evening after a 60-dollar (!) taxi ride to Dulles Airport—don’t worry too much, I get reimbursed. Oh, I was in DC to take the Foreign Service Oral Evaluation. I’d passed the written exam last April and it took that long to schedule the oral. Well, you have to score 5.25 on a scale of 1 to 7 and I scored 5.20. Better than the 5.0 I got last time I did it (2003, I think), but still shy of the mark. They did indicate that 17,000 take the written exam, 20% of whom pass. They then accept about 300 from the Oral Evaluations. The Foreign Service selection process is changing now, however, so that the State Department can weed poor people out of the process earlier (sarcasm!). This new process begins in summer.

The flight from DC to Kuwait was half empty—Economy Plus, which costs $25 or something for 5 inches extra leg room was totally empty but the flight attendants would not let anyone move there! The people on this flight were clearly former military headed back to the Middle East to do contract work. Lots of characters, many of whom seemed to be out of the southland, sporting wild haircuts (short or long), prominent arm tattoos, mustaches and beards, and telltale military-issue duffel bags and backpacks. I imagined this crew could tell some great stories after a few PBR’s.

I immediately skipped from Kuwait to Dubai where I landed in the evening and got to the hotel in time for about four hours sleep before leaving for the airport again to fly on to Kabul. Mary was at the airport and had also apparently been at the hotel the night before—the poor shuttle operator made two trips for us. Minor drama—Mary was separated from her laptop in the security rush in Paris so she was kicking herself about that. So far it hasn’t been a problem, though—there are extra computers here at the office in the evening and there will be extras in our classroom during the day as well.

While we were waiting to board our flight to Kabul, Mary struck up a conversation with a few guys to see if they had a functioning cell phone she could use to call up the airline regarding her laptop. She came back in a bit and explained that these fellows were making a documentary about the West and its interaction with Islam. I have often thought a documentary about the street kids in Kabul would be interesting, so I was thinking about something to say to them later. As we geared up to board the busses that would take us to the plane, I realized I recognized one of the documentary guys. I was vague in my recollection at first, but he seemed to have the relatively good looks of a film personality and carried himself a bit “above the fray,” if you will. Eurika, I thought, and asked one of his compatriots, “Am I on crack or is that the ‘Supersize Me’ guy!? That’s the ‘Supersize Me’ guy, isn’t it?!” They smiled and looked away, “We’re trying to keep that on the downlow.” The main guy seemed like a bit of a jerk, so I honored the DL and didn’t talk to him…though I wanted to for Robert. I was talking to the cameraman, who seemed like a nice guy—I would not want to be prancing around pointing a video camera at people in Afghanistan and I hope he’s careful. I asked him if they had someone picking them up and security because carrying a camera would draw lots of attention. “Yeah, I’m not worried—we’re local,” whatever that means!

Arrival in Kabul was as chaotic as ever. There was a crush of people trying to get through the passport check and somehow the number of people in front of me in line stayed the same while the number behind me shrank until I was one of only about ten left over. The concept of a line, patience, waiting one’s turn, doesn’t exactly work well here.

It was great to see the familiar faces of the staff…but some other dude was driving the van. Yes, Wais was replaced. I guess higher-up for Pragma came to Kabul a couple weeks ago and made some changes. Wais did drive a bit too aggressively and didn’t speak any English, but for some reason I liked that guy. Too bad they couldn’t find him something else to do…

We had lunch yesterday and were quickly homesick for good food! I just couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore after lunch and slept until 11 PM! By that time I was wide awake and went downstairs to discover “The Family Stone” was on one of the movie channels. Then I worked on catching up email…till 5 AM! I was wide awake and finally told myself I had to try to sleep. I did, and somehow got up at 8:30.

Today we made a trip to the bakery nearby, Wakil (one of the guards), Mary, and I. I’d been thinking quite a bit about how I’d like to be a bit more generous with the street kids around, but wasn’t sure how to do it. We were accosted by a few as we made our way to the bakery. While we were shopping for a few things I had the bright idea that I’d buy them milk—a nutritious beverage that surely they didn’t have all that often—much better than a candy bar. So I got a couple small cardboard cartons of milk (and a few candy bars) and off we went. I didn’t want to create a mob scene, so we played it cool most of the way back while several kids were hanging on us. Eventually, most dropped off and only a couple were around. They’d given up trying to sell us anything and were just demanding “bakshish” (gift). I finally reached in my plastic bag and gave a milk to a young girl, then waited while a little boy who’d been with us since the beginning but had dropped off, ran to catch up. I gave him a milk and we walked on. I turned to see the little girl giving the milk to a boy with her, “No, that’s for you to drink,” I motioned with my hand. “Drink that, OK?” He handed it back to her and she smiled at me fakely and said “OK, OK.” Some new kid walked up and proclaimed in English that he was my bodyguard and as we walked he kind of threatened some other kids who were nearby. He and a companion stuck with us all the way to the door of our guesthouse. Jarod, I think he said his name was. I had given away both the milks and two of the four candy bars. Jarod busted out with “I’m hungry” a couple times and I couldn’t hold out—I gave he and his partner the last two.

I’m pretty sure this wasn’t very smart, but I feel so guilty just walking past these kids with my pies and sweets. I was thinking later, what if I opened the milks—then they couldn’t hardly resell them or give them to someone else—they’d almost have to drink them! So I don’t know, maybe I’ll try that. But it’s probably not too smart to create a reputation for myself and get mobbed every time I want to go to the bakery—which is one of the few things we can do on foot.

The new class begins tomorrow and it sounds as though it may not be full. Mary and I are curious to see the new configuration of the class, find out how many students we’ll have, and begin to see if the quality of the students has declined. More news when I’ve got it…