A Close Call in Kabul

  Kabul, Kabul, Afghanistan
Monday, August 18, 2008

This blog does not have many pictures as I wasn't planning on writing it. But after looking back over my diary and some notes I took while I was in Afghanistan I have decided to extract a couple of short tales of what I got up to other than the things described before. Some are funny, some factual, some are scary, some surreal and some just interesting as its Afghanistan, either way I hope you enjoy : )
Its now turned out to be quite a long one, so make sure your comfortable, grab a cushion and a cup of tea.
 
Kite fighting & rally driving -
 
After arriving back in Kabul I went I gave AJ a call, the person who Id met when I first came in to Afghanistan. He came to meet me I his car and when he pulled up, he got out to greet me and shake me hand, then got back in the passenger seat of the car, I looked at him in a slightly perplexed, and he said, 'you drive'..... Shocked by the response, I stupidly asked what you mean? He replied, 'do you wana drive' I thought why not? So here I am, sitting in a car, in Kabul, on the wrong side of the road and car. I pulled away with a bit of a jump as I got use to the clutch bit earlier than Id expected and the proceeded to drive. I didn't have a clue where I was going but Aj gave directions, I mentioned to him that I wanted to see some of the blown up buildings on the outskirts so we drove around there, me avoiding huge pot holes, kids on bike, donkey carts pulling fruit and just other crazy Afghan drivers. I soon started to feeling relaxed and had a look around when AJ points at the rev counter indicating with a cheeky grin that it is a sports car and to put my foot down, I did. This was one very surreal moment, as I rallied through the streets of Kabul in someone elses car. Only in Afghanistan!
We then went to a coffee shop for a drink where I had a good chat to AJ, he was a really interesting guy and his dad is actually the famous 'Bookseller of Kabul' # he then beat me at chess twice and I headed up onto the roof for a bit of fresh air while he played cards with some other Afghan's. On the roof I met a couple of guys about my own age or just older flying kites. One of the Talibans may prohibitions; the ban kite flying seemed one of the most needlessly cruel. Kite flying is now back to the favorite obsession of Afghan boys (and men by the looks of it) and has recently been revealed to the outside world though Hhaled Husseini's haunting novel The Kite Runner.
The smallest kites are only small homemade from plastic and paper scraps with a wire frame. There is no tail to improve maneuverability and I was amazed at how they can get them to fly with the lightest breeze and patient skilled tugs at the string. Being in Afghanistan of there's a martial element to the pursuit and the kites are fought against each other for supremacy of the skies. The aim of the battle is to cut your opponents kite away from him, this is achieved by rubbing your string against his (the string is covered with a pasted that has tiny pieces of glass in it, which also cuts your hands) until it breaks and sends it flying in to the sky. Its not over yet as the kite sails off and then begins to fall, there is a mad rush to claim the falling kite as the price. Judging by the power and telephone lines around Kabul, not all make it to the floor. After carefully watching for a while they asked if I like a go, I refused politely (although I did want to try) but they insisted. I don't know how else to put this...but I was shit, as soon as I touched the string, the kite started plummeting towards the ground or directly for a near by tree. I soon got the hang of it and managed to get the kite high in the sky, as high as all the other kites, but as soon as I did, another kite dived toward mine. Not knowing what to do but give a panicking look at my new afghan friends, I made a desperate tug at the string, hoping to out maneuver the other kite and avoid its attack but nothing really happened, my kite was cut and my string fell to my feet in front of me. I felt really guilty and tried to apologize for loosing their kite but the were laughing and thought it was hilarious, they then pulled out another homemade kite, re-attached it to the string and I watch with a new fascination and cheered them on as they went up to 'fight' the kite that had just cut me out of the skies.
When I came back down the was some other people at the table, one guy was working for the BBC and was in charge of all the film crews in Iraq, Congo and was making a risk assessment about sending some crew here. He was also an interesting person and ended up buying me dinner and he was so intrigued my story and invited me to the BBC studio in London which covers all the foreign correspondents in war zone.
 
#  "The Bookseller of Kabul" (my friend AJ's dad) is a best seller book about a Norwegian journalist who was invited to live with their family for several months whilst reporting in Afghanistan. She tells the story of a typical Afghan life but in particular the drudge and horrors regularly inflicted on women of the family, it was so popular in Norway it was translated to 20 languages. This is where the controversy began.
Aj's dad was thinly disguised as Sultan Khan in the book, the owner of the renowned Shah M bookshop, (where I managed to find some postcards and meet him on my visit).He had his books burned by the communist, the mujaheddin and then the Taliban but still owns and kept the shop open. When he was given a copy of the book the she had wrote he was outraged and claimed that she had abused his hospitality by revealing family secrets and writing slander, including that female family relatives had boyfriends (a grave mater of honor when the book was translated into Dari and Pashto, the main Afghan languages), he explained to me that it could of also put himself and family in danger. He has now written his own book which he tried to sell me in the shop.
 
Fact  - The ethnic make up of Afghanistan
Pashtan - 42%
Takik - 27%
Hazara - 9%
Uzbek - 9%
Turkmen - 3%
Baluchi - 2%
Other - 8%
 
- Mark Williams playing snooker in Afghanistan
 
In the evening it was deemed unsafe to walk around although not having anything to read I often ventured to the snooker club about two blocks away to meet some locals and kill the evening. I heard that all the other westerners in the country (not tourists but people working for NGOs and other companies) were not allowed out after dark and had a curfew. One night on my way home from snooker about midnight, I walked my usual way home  cutting across Shar-e Naw Park  to avoid any passing cars and then along my road. As I walked the last stretch a man looked at me then made a double take, I saw him in my peripherals, then heard him say in English 'where are you from?'. I had a chat to him and it turns out that he had seen me before walking home and was not sure if I was western as I had a beard and local clothes on. I didn't recognize him as not being from Kabul as he was from Japan and had vaguely similar facial features to Hazara. It turns out he was working for an aid company here trying to get water to some small villages, he was just having a cigarette outside his guesthouse with his armed guard and stopped me as he was worried for my safety as he thought I was crazy not having a gun, armed vehicle or armed guard.
 
Fact - The adult literacy rate in Afghanistan is 36%
 

- Trust Mark to find a party in Kabul!

Believe it or not I actually had a few night out in Kabul, the first was in a place called Latmosphere. I entered through one huge heavy metal door, had to sign in with a man with a gun, then two more big doors before arriving in the bar area. There was a live band playing who were really good and even a pool. This appeared to be the most popular expat hang out and this was reflected in the exuberant prices of beers (which I could afford). I had a good night and it was very interesting to see what goes on behind closed doors.
I met one guy through Couch Surfing (an internet web site used to find quite literally a couch to sleep on) who had been living in Kabul for the last couple of year and said he would come and meet me a show me around a bit as he spoke the local language, Dari, German and also English. He picked me up on his motorbike and told me than as it was Thursday (and everyone didn't have work tomorrow as Friday is the Holy day for Muslims) there was a party tonight and I was invited as he was sure people would be happy to see a new face. We went back to his place and sat on his roof   over looking Kabul and he then bought me a cold beer, in fact my first beer in about 4 months, it looked like the ones of the adverts you see in the summer, (with condensation running down the side wear it was chilled) and tasted so good : )
We then headed back out on the bike to the Dutch Embassy where there was a party and apparently had complementary drinks....yes free alcoholic drinks! Being English, a skint backpacker and just myself to be honest, I decided to take full advantage of this, however unfortunately I cant say I done our nation very proud, after not drinking for so long, Im embarrassed to say that  after about 5 beers and a glass of wine I was well on my way! The mix of having alcohol and seeing so many well dressed westerners in the same place, the a locked compound in the middle of Kabul, all seemed very surreal. Next we headed to the ICRC, a Red Cross compound which also had two armed guards and huge doors. Here we met even more people and there was even music! The highlight here seemed to be the table football game with a number of men were crowded round (and then the dance floor when everyone was drunk) although for me the highlight was just chatting and watching people. It was so interesting and everyone I looked at, I found myself thinking how did you end up and what were you doing here, in Afghanistan? Some were obvious as they were wearing T-shorts with things like Rwanda and Cambodia on them and others who were wearing jeans and tight T-shirts with good physiques I assumed were some sort of military or body guards. With out trying to stereotype people I thought I nearly had it worked out and then after chatting to an Australian guy I was completely thrown off in my drunken game, he was building a skate park here in Kabul, don't think I would of guessed that one and this was what made it so intriguing chatting to everyone.
After a few more beers (that people kept offering me but I clearly didn't need) I subconsciously found myself chatting to the best looking girl in the bar, it didn't take me long to realize how much I had missed female company (as with beer it had been about 4 months in the Muslim world of not talking to a women), not sexually but just to talk to and interact with, although I cant say I was fighting her off at the end of the night as she tried to give me a kiss goodbye : )
Waking up the next day, feeling like death and realizing how bad alcohol really is for you, I decided to take the girl Id met last night up on the offer of going to the UNICI for lunch as I was told that there was a swimming pool there, just what I needed for a hangover!
I grabbed my stuff and decided to walk to the UNICI compound as it was just west of the Central Hotel which was near me. When I got there I was surprised at how easy it was to get in through the huge gates, I just showed my British passport, got searched and walk straight in. Once inside, the first thing I saw was a big sign pointing to an underground bunker, which I made a mental note of in case of emergency. There was also a shop selling all sort of western goodies I assume not available elsewhere in Kabul, such as Swiss chocolate, nice toiletries and alcohol. I met the girl and had some lunch, she told me about a trip they had for the next week and invited me to join them. They were planning a trip to the Wahkan Corridor, which is a thin, (less than 10 miles wide in places) but almost impassable corridor in the Badakhshan province of north eastern Afghanistan. It is located in the Pamir mountain region, with Tajikistan to the north, Pakistan to the south and China to the east. It was created at the end of 19th century by the British Empire, to act as a buffer against potential Russian ambitions in India during the Great Game. (a great book by the way, "The Great Game"). The trekking there is suppose to be some of the best and least trekked in the world, I wanted to go soo much but unfortunately one of the decisions Id made when I can here was to only bring one very small back, this was very annoying as back in Pakistan I had a tent, my boots and all my trekking equipment. It's a real shame but realistically it would have been hard as they already had all their permits, I would of also had to extend my visa, and with the transport it would of worked out way over my budget, so its just been put on the list to come back to one day!
After lunch, I was going to go for a swim but realized that in my half asleep drunken state when Id left my room this morning I forgot my swimming shorts and decided to walk back quickly to get them................to be continued......
 
Fact - The Un estimates that around 60,000 school-age children work on the streets of Kabul. Contrary to popular belief, most of these children are not orphans, they are just desperately poor and many have to not only support themselves but also parents who are impoverished, disabled and widowed.
 
 
-What the f*#Ked was that??

Whilst I was out at one of the 'parties' I was chatting to a guy from Norway, who was a journalist here. He was very interesting and was very modest about the dangerous places he had been all over the world, after a couple of beers, a story came out about being shot at in Southern Afghanistan in Helmond and near Kandahar in the last year. He had been in Afghanistan for 15 months and had not seen any tourist and asked me if Id mind doing a short interview with him. We met at lunch time the next day in the city centre for a tea whilst he asked me some questions about my trip, where I had been in Norway and lots of other questions. The one that stuck in my head a was one of the last he asked me was 'Do you feel safe in Afghanistan?' to this I remember saying something along the lines of, yes I think I do really. As Id been here around a week and had only great experiences, met really friendly people but I still try to be cautious everywhere and keep my wits about me at all times. After he was had all he needed he said could we take a walk and him just take some pictures of me around some of the old tourist places like Chicken street and the park close by.  As we were walking along the road, me smiling and him taking a couple of pictures there was a huge bang! I wasn't sure but made an educated guess that it was not gun fire but an explosion, I looked around to see what was happening and saw some smoke about 100meters behind us, in the time, which must of only been a couple of second, he had closed the gap between us and almost dive-rolled me to the floor, explained to me we must move then explained as quickly as possible in his second language: move quickly, danger! I didn't hesitate and followed him, we jumped a wall and gap between the fence in to the park and stood at a safe distance while he snapped a few shots with his huge camera and I stood there scared with me heart beating at about 300 BPM while the adrenaline pumped into my blood stream! With in about 3 minutes people were back to their normal lives walking past where it had just happened as though they had nor seen anything unusual. After the commotion, I had a lot of questions for the journalist, like: what the F#*K was that?? He explained he was not 100% sure but its more than likely to be a misguided mortar, which they fire from province to province, going on to say that he had seen a lot of this in the south and often the explosion or the smallest thing provoked people to start shooting and its not a place you want to be! Even though nothing did happen, I was happy he was there I knowing me Id of turned around to take a photo whereas he had obviously seen a lot worst than this in he many years of living in war zones as a foreign correspondent, he was calm, confident and appeared to be well trained.
I was by no means getting blasé about being in Afghanistan but this sure put me back in my place and reminded me that I was in fact, on holiday, by choice in a war zone!
 
 Fact - With Afghanistan's war-torn past it remains one of the counties in the world most highly contaminated with land mines; 32 of the 34 Afghan provinces are affected by mines, they are not the only explosive remnant of war that account for, on average, three Afghans a day being killed or injured: UXOs include munitions that has been fired or dropped and has failed to detonate, from a hand grenade to a missile. UXOs can be found anywhere from rooftops to backyards or the desert and are equally as lethal as land mines

- A close call in Kabul

Continued from earlier..... So here I was, still a bit hung over and dehydrated walking back to my room to get my swimming shorts. On my way past the City Centre shopping centre which is probably the most western building in town I decided to take a photo, just to show the contrast from my others of blown up building and old Kabul. Just as I pulled my camera out of my pocket to take the photo a guy came from nowhere and said do not take a photo, I said ok, no problem and sorry as he looked a bit angry, didn't take the photo and went to want away. He then shouted 'tava ghof' which I knew meant stop but was unsure whether to or not as I had no idea who the man was and he didn't have a uniform of any kind but before I even had time to think two army men appeared from nowhere and pointed guns at my chest. I immediately knew that this was not a good situation to be in and my heart sped up and adrenaline stared to flow. Then as quick as the other guys appeared from know where, another one also in army/police uniform was on the scene, who demanded to see the pictures on my camera, my passport and an explanation as to why I was taking pictures of the City Centre. The situation was tense and the language barrier or guns pointed at me did not help at all. The guy was still insistent on seeing my pictures and I was very hesitant to show him because I heard of one guy who had spend the night in Afghan prison for taking a single picture of an old Russian tank. I knew or had heard that in was illegal to take pictures of military and as you have seen for my previous pictures I have not only taken pictures of tanks but also army men with guns, helicopters and all sort of other stuff with guns...ect
In the end I had no option but to show the guy my photos, I cleverly flicked the camera backwards knowing that this would go to the pictures of Pakistan on the beginning of the memory card, however the guy was no mug and wanted to look at them all, luckily I managed to flick really fast and double back on myself until I was back at the first shot of trekking In Pakistan. I was hoping that this would be it and I would now be free to go but no, I was held at gun point for another hour, what was really bothering me was the fact the no one was turning a blind eye at me being held in the street! Whilst waiting (for their 'boss' to turn up) I managed to remove my memory card form my camera in my pocket with out anyone seeing. Although as soon as I did I started to panic that this may then look even more suspicious but could not get in back in? It was now starting got get dark and I was getting worried, I saw a couple of UN Land Cruiser's pass and thought about trying to flag one down for help but didn't. I was now going over my options in my head and thought the best possible outcome might be spending a night in prison. I decided to ring AJ, the guy who had picked me up, I trusted him and knew he could speak both languages and hoped he could at least explain that I was a tourist. He spoke to me and then them and said that there was no problem, that would not take me anywhere they just wanted to wait for their boss to turn up, they would not hurt me and defiantly would not take me anywhere, if they did, then to call him back.
I re-set the scene, it was a sunny afternoon in Kabul as I was about to go for a nice swim to get rid of my hangover, its now pitch black, Im held at gunpoint, not speaking a word of the language, dehydrated and have a camera with pictures of more guns, tanks and helicopters than Id like to estimate. Not one of the best places Iv ever been in! Its now well into the evening and the boss, finally turns up, but my first impression its not exactly what I was hoping for, it's a brand new V8 white Land Cruise with blacked out windows. A man steps out who I estimate to be around 60 wearing a suit, I hold my hand out to shake his but he ignores it and demands my passport, I hesitantly give it to him and he straight away looks at it, checking for authenticity and then asks where I came from, I told him Pakistan and as soon as I heard this he rung someone and I heard him switching to Urdu and am sure I heard the word bomb in English was said a couple of times but wasn't sure. It somehow seemed to make the situation more tense though. He then asked what I was doing here and I said Im a tourist, he said what, terrorist? I quickly corrected him! He then demanded my camera and as I handed it to him, he tried to turn it on but could not find the ON button, I was dreading every second of it as I knew if he had tuned it on it would have said 'NO MEMORY CARD' and then other man would clocked what I had done. I decide to ring AJ again and passed him the phone so he put the camera in the car. After AJ had then spoke to him he explained to me that they had been tipped off about a suspected suicide bomb attack on the city centre recently and for the last 3 days and I had been being watched entering there every day.
 He then orders me to get in the car, saying police station but I refuse insist that I see his ID card and at this he gets angry and give them other guys a nod, they then grabbed by both arms and helped into the car if you know what I mean.
Assessing the situation again at about 100hundred miles per hour in my head I thought that I had in fact been going in and out of the city centre every day for the last 3days, although only innocently to check my email and let my family know I was safe, I 'had' come from Pakistan and was wearing locals clothes which I assume they thought was a disguise?
From the word go, the situation was not looking good but it was now worst again,  Im now in the back of a jeep with blacked out windows, two guys either side of me with AK47's, driving at high speed through the streets of Kabul, not really knowing where Im being taken and who these people really are! It was decision time and fast, AJ had said to call him if they had taken me anywhere so I decided to do this, he spoke to the guy in charge and the driver but this just seemed to enraged him and make him drive faster, the phone was pasted back to me and AJ said that he shouted at them and said that if they hurt me he would tell all the papers, this probably was not the best thing to say and not exactly what I wanted but I had called him after all and he was just trying to help. My battery was now very low as I hadn't had a chance to charge it with the common power cuts in Kabul and so was my credit, I had one last option. When I had first got here I had registered with the British embassy and they had given me a leaflet about British Prisoners abroad which had a 24 hour help line in it. I called it and it was answered quickly, I explained the situation as briefly as I could trying to leave out the fact I was a suspected terrorist and just saying I was a British tourist, and what had happened, he said get then to bring you to the embassy, I again passed the phone to the boss/drive and he spoke much more calmly this time and although I could not understand, a lot more respectfully. He agreed to take me to the embassy instead of the Police Station which was a big relief. When we arrived it was now nearly midnight, the driver went off with my passport and left me in the car with the two guards, this led to the most surreal moment so of my time traveling...and possibly my life? Sitting the in the car the man in the front decided he liked one of the Persian pop songs on the radio and turned it up, the guards obviously did too as they started to stamp their feet in time with the beat and sing the odd word, there AK47's bounced up and down on there laps, one of which was uncomfortably pointed towards my groin area!
At this point, I there was nothing else to do but say 'f*#* it' and clap along with them. Not long after our little sing along the boss came back and escorted me to the embassy where I was looked up and down by the Nepalese Gurkas and then searched, once I was in and on home soil I automatically felt a lot better!
I was asked my story about 4 times, each time with it being escalated to someone higher and with them all checking the story for the smallest discrepancy while one guy translated for the benefit of one of the police men. After not long a well spoken English guy explained to me that it was very lucky that I had registered as this 'kind of' proved I had no bad intent on in the country and that they would write a formal letter explaining that my passport was real, I was a British citizen, had register with them but they could not vouch for what I was doing here and where I would be going after this. However this was out of his hands and he would have to call (and wake up his boss) who would come down to write and sign the letter. Whilst waiting and we had a quiet minute, the well spoken English man pulled me aside and said, I been working in the country for four years now and have seen a lot of shit, what the f##k are you doing here as a tourist? He was a nice guy and gave me his personal number on which he said to text him every day, especially if I was still planning on crossing the notorious Khyber Pass.
About 8 terrifying hours later I was finally told that I was free to go, although it was now about 1 in the morning and I didn't exactly fancy walking home after all this. To my surprise the police man, who was actually chief in the intelligence police force offered to give me a lift home. It felt a bit strange getting back in that car but the men with guns were then so friendly and hugged me, making the translator explain that they were sorry for pointed guns at me and scarring me but they were just taking orders and doing there job. They really did seemed to care about my feelings which I was surprised at from what I thought were two hardened thugs/soldiers with guns. They were actually just doing there job and to be honest, doing it well. Looking back, I must have looking a bit suspicious. I amazingly left the whole situation liking Afghanistan and its great people more than I had before (and also happy that no one got to see or delete my photos!)