The temperature dropped and the wind picked up this evening. Three days ago my coworkers and I arrived t Kabul International Airport, the acronym of which does not bode well. I’ve arrived here to start work on a new contract that should keep me here in Afghanistan over the next year, maybe longer.
Similar to when I arrived in Iraq last January I've come with a book in hand. I was luckily flying commercial into KIA which allowed me to bypass the earthly purgatory of Ali Al Saleem in Kuwait and last year “The Quiet American” helped pass the time while there. Now I have the added pleasure of reading a book written by a good friend. “Still The Monkey” tells the story of a Vietnam Veteran sharing his story, as a mentor to an Iraq veteran rehabilitating from the loss of his legs. Coincidentally both books centers around wars in Vietnam, and the importance of learning from history to repair the present.
Yesterday marked the 8th year anniversary of the United States and NATO invading Afghanistan to dispose of the Taliban controlled government. Ironically more progress has been made in Iraq even though Iraq was invaded almost a year and a half later. I imagine much can be learned from mistakes and success made in Iraq that can be applied to the strategy in Afghanistan. But that’s not my job. I haven’t been put her to win the war. Which doesn’t mean I’m here to lose it either.
Over breakfast I was that silent third person introduce to a friend of a coworker as they conversed over eggs, sausage and coffee. He was a United Kingdom National Policeman commenting about how often he has witnessed commanders ending their tours and new commanders scrapping the methods of their predecessors to implement their own “bight ideas” – Ego is a hell of a drug – and making the same mistakes as the last guy. Later over coffee I sat with a quiet, seasoned contractor. Perhaps he was more pickled than seasoned. Our program hasn’t started as smoothly as some would want. “It’s putting a square peg in a round hole,” he said with an odd stare. Forget about why we’re here. Sometimes I wonder are any of us really here at all?
It has been a slow start for my colleagues and I. “Still the Monkey” has been a reprieve from the lack of activity. The living quarters remind me of my freshman college dorm, Nickerson. This afternoon I sat in the courtyard outside the MWR smoking a cigarette in the sun when I noticed there was a turtle walking around the grass. This must be his home but this entire compound with its rose bush lined courtyard seems so artificial like Hazelnut Coffeemate. If I am here/anywhere I suppose [for now] he and I are home.
