What part of Russia are you from?
I am in Russia. The Great Russian Federation. For those who like asking the “What part of Russia you are from?” – it’s Tambov. Here it is, on Google maps.
Arriving here I switched into a “home” mode and don’t take as many photos as I normally do when I travel. But here are some, anyway.
When I arrive in Russia it takes me a couple of days to switch into a Russian-speaking mode, get used to people being rude and absorb the initial anti-western propaganda attacks (when friends and family try to bring me up to date with the world events). After that, it’s life as normal. Lots of potatoes, salted fish and photos of the smiling president… the usual.
Once again, it’s great to spend time with family and catch up with friends that I grew up with. There is no way to explain it in words. There is a deep sense of connection and understanding with people that I know from when I was a child.
So, here we are, some photos – from Tambov and villages around it.
To Kabul, without guns
I’m thinking about my trip to Kabul everyday since I left, and now that I’m in Russia, it’s interesting to see mixed reactions when I tell people here that I went to Afghanistan. Given the previous military history between the two countries, people don’t understand why I went there, to say the least. And obviously, family and friends are happy that I am safe. I previously wrote about the good and the beautiful about the country – it’s scenery, people and culture. Now it’s time to mention the other side – the political and civil unrest, insecurity, poverty and growing social class inequality.
Afghanistan is not safe. Flying into Kabul, safety is on everybody’s mind. Even the pilot of KamAir flight felt the need to reassure the passengers that “there was nothing wrong with the airplane”. I’m sure while I was in the country, many things were not said and a few risks taken.
On arrival you’re faced with numerous gunned-up road blocks and dark-green police utes with mounted machine guns. War victims, disabled people sitting in the middle of a street begging for money. Poor kids playing with sticks in a heap of dust. Older kids exhausting themselves carrying canisters of water up the mountain or pushing loaded carts instead of a horse. You can’t look at Afghan kids without feeling the pain. You can’t avoid their adult-like eyes.
It’s obvious that the foreign forces currently occupying Afghanistan don’t really care about the future of the country. This country has one of the highest (20%) children mortality rate. Kids who survive often die because of lack of food or clean water. We complain about our hospitals, but how about having one doctor per 50,000 inhabitants? And what happened to education? And what is being done about the unemployment (40%+)? The country is rich with resources – it’s probably the richest area in the region, but it’s all being developed and mined by foreign companies, heavily guarded against any Afghan involvement.
Kabul is like a large bazaar. It’s full of same sores that filled Russia during the Perestroika. Little kiosks, dwarf supermarkets, video salons, clubs, “New Afghans” driving expensive cars. The country is absorbing the bad and the ugly of the western imperialism. The country is loosing its unique identity. You see kids shouting english words at you. You see shops selling shiny western junk. It is a sad state.
It’s easy to become discouraged by working in Afghanistan. What difference can one person make in such a vast and insecure mess? But… there is definitely a place for people like Phil in this country. Someone needs to tell the locals that it’s ok to be just who they are. Someone needs to tell them that it’s not ok to experience what they do.
People who choose to work in Afghanistan care about the future. They care about today. They may change a life of one person. That person may change a life of the whole country.
As Phil mentioned elsewhere, the country is soaked in grief.. God Bless Afghanistan.
“Do-you-buy” – pronounced as Dubai
I’m in Dubai. Just for a day. To check it out. See what it’s like, maybe to find someone who lives here and find out what they think about this city.
Dubai. Large. Sandy. 85% Indian. Un-natural. Hot. Windy. Very hot. Even hotter. Againts all rules. Traffic jams in the middle of the day. Lots of Russians.
It’s Ramadan month, which means fasting from sunrise to sunset. Fasting means no food or drink. How do you cope if you go for a walk and it’s 40C? I saw a McDonalds on Sheikh Zayed Road and I thought “Bonza! Let’s get something to eat! I’m a traveller, travellers allowed to eat during Ramadan (I think!). So off I go, hoping it would be open, longing for a cold post-mix coke. Surely enough, the store is open. Surely enough, there are people there buying food. I ordered a large “Chicken Big Mac” meal, picked it up, went to a table, sat down, started eating. Nice! But here comes a security guy and says, “Excuse me sir, the food is take away only”. Now, that’s business! While the rest of the restaurants and cafes in the whole city are closed for Ramadan (they only open after the sunset each day), McDonalds people thought, “hey, we can still open the store and sell BigMacs. We’ll just tell people to go somewhere else to eat it. In the 40C heat. Or, maybe just keep it for dinner tonight. Or for tomorrow. We know that BigMacs don’t go off.”
I did a bit of sightseeing and visiting places today. Mostly commercial stuff. Actually, my impression is that the whole city is commercial. Huge. Massive. Growing from under the ground.
I was able to catch up with a friend of a friend, a businessman here in Dubai, for dinner. It was interesting to actually meet someone who works and lives here, and share with them some of my business ideas and plans.
Here are some photos. There is a bit of a sand storm here today, so a few shots look a bit misty.
The first day you meet, you are friends. The next day you meet, you are brothers.
The first day you meet, you are friends. The next day you meet, you are brothers. (Afghan proverb).
I’m sitting here at Kabul Airport, and trying to collect some thoughts. It’s about two hours before the departure of my flight (the flight it 1hr late), there is nothing else to do here. So, here we are.
Today is my last day in this country. I had a great time here. There is nothing like seeing the country with your own eyes. There is nothing like saying hello to locals. I had a truly amazing time.
This morning we decided to clime one of the mountains. There are a lot of mountains or very large hills around Kabul and we went for a walk. The friend who suggested that we do that, had done it before and he described it as a “light walk”, that was “fairly safe”, and that it only took 40min of light walking. So off we went. Up the hill. Up the stairs. And up the hill again. And then more. And then more. I didn’t think we would make it to the top of the mountain, but we persevered. The views were breathtaking. Hey, maybe that’s why we were all out of breath.
There is an ancient wall that goes along the ridger of the ranges, an old fort, an old wall. Aparently it was build in the 600s (or 1600s? need to confirm that). Just when we reached that wall, we noticed a group of AF soldiers following our steps behind us. I think they would be about 500m away.
We kind of thought that it would be better to somehow to avoid them and we pushed on. At the top of the mountain we met a bunch of US muscle guys with a lot of large guns. Apparently they were from local embassies and just want for a “walk”, same as us. After taking some pictures with them, they quietly warned us “Hey, you be careful there. They’re talking about a lot of kidnappings”. And off they went. It was interesting to see a very polite greetings exchange when they walked pass those AF soldiers that we were trying to get away from. We pushed on, making some lead time before the AF soldiers would catch up with us.
We walked along the wall on the ridge of the mountain and now we started to walk down. I have to say, it’s much easier to go down than climbing up. Now, the soldiers just got to the top, when we were about 100m down the mountain and they started to shout. “Hey, you” etc etc. What do you do? We decided to ignore them and continue on on our way. Apparently, as my friend said, they won’t shoot unprovoked. I hoped we didn’t provoke them by ignoring them!
Very often, soldiers or police (all heavily armed) would try to stop our car at a road block, but more often than not, we’d just ignore them and keep on driving. Amazing really. There was once, when one of those soldiers wanted to stop our car by pointing his gun at us. But hey, after saying “Salam Aleikum” we were able to drive by, also, without stopping.
Walking down the mountain we encountered a group of army people, now, of a different type. They were marking an area that had land mines. They used rocks that were painted two colours – white, pointing to the safe side and red pointing to the mined site. See some photos below. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant job to do by any means.
Then we we met a bunch of kids, from a hut nearby. They chatted for a while with Phil. And after I gave them some money they went back to their mother back at the house. I have no idea what these people do for food. How does their mother feed her 5 little kids? The hut is so high up, to walk “down the shops” would really be walking “Down” to the shops. And then up. Just imagine (for those who are in WA), to live at the very top of Bluff Knoll. I don’t know. They must have it really tough.
So, the walk down the mountain was very enjoyable, to say the least. We were very sore, but now, we had a chance to walk though the “real Kabul” – all those little mud huts, donkeys and lots and lots of kids. As we walk down, everyone is smiling. It’s amazing how much Afghanis smile at you. It’s amazing to exchange “Salam Aleikum” with a total stranger, shake hands and just wish each other good luck. Afghanistan is a nation of smiling people.
At the bottom of the mountain I bought a kite (!) and we then caught a taxi home. My bags were already packed and here we are, sitting in the waiting hall, ready for boarding my flight to Dubai, together with KamAir.
The process of getting through the passport control and security checks deserves another blog post. But big thanks to Phil to was able to walk me through the most checks and convince most guards to leave the contents of my bag alone. Thanks brother.
This concludes my journey to Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan. This trip gave me a lot of food for thought. Let’s see where this experience takes me in the future.
When God gives, He doesn’t ask whose son you are.
When God gives, He doesn’t ask whose son you are. (Afghan proverb)
Since I arrived in Kabul Phil is introducing me to his friends as “Guennadi, a friend from Australia”. Yesterday, on the way to the city, the driver, an Afghani man, asked Phil, “Is Guennadi Russian”? “Why?”, Phil asked. “I recognised him by his name, Guennadi is a Russian name”. He then proceeded telling us that a number of years back he used to work as a mechanic for a Russian Automotive company. And his Russian boss, Peotr (Peter) really liked him because he was a hard worker, and each weekend the boss would bring him a box of chocolate. Saying that he had a huge smile on his face and he said that those were good times… I then asked him what it was like when the Soviets were in the country. On that he said, “I didn’t have anything to do with the military, so I don’t really have anything to say..”
Here are a couple more photos from my trip to the city.
Guns, nuts and amazing views.
Here are some more videos. The first one is in a shop in Chicken Street. With lots of guns. Most of which 100 years old. A good one.
The following video is of a boy the nutcrucker. He’s job is to crack wallnuts. I’m not sure if he’s allowed to eat them!
And this video is taken from a taxi – a drive from downtown Kabul to a cafe on the other side of the hill. Amazing scenery there.
Kabul Fried Chicken in Touristical Kabul
Kabul Fried Chicken – Clean and Tasty! Today Phil and I went to Chicken Street, it’s kind of like Hay Street Mall in Perth or Arbat Street in Moscow – with lots of shops on both sides of the street, with a lot of interesting things. There is a lot of soviet trophies, like samovars, russian money, belt buckles, matreshkas, as well as more interesting things like rifles from the British times (early 1800s), pistols and other stuff like that. It’s a pity that you can’t take these out of the country – all of this would be priceless outside of Afghanistan. It will be sad to see it all go, as the western rubbish overwhelms the country – probably most of these shops on Chicken street will be gone in the next few years. Does anyone have ideas how to take these riffles out of the country? Please let me know.
We then went for a walk through the city, dropping by a video store, walked pass “KFC – Kabul Fried Chicken” and then caught a taxi back to Chila cafe where we had lunch and a cup of coffee.
Here are some photos and a couple more videos.
Kites, kites and more kites
One of the beautiful parts of Afghanistan culture is kite flying. There are kites everywhere. Every day we go somewhere we see lots of kids flying kites, lots of kites in the sky. There are traditional competitions where kite flyers entangle the string of their flying kites with each other trying to cut the string of the other. The winner’s kite remains flying while the loser’s kite string is cut loose, drifting free with the wind until it falls to the ground. Kids then run after these cut kites to try and capture them when they come down. Usually whoever captures a cut kite can keep it.
Here is a video of a couple of kites in the sky.
Kabul Streets – videos
Here are some videos taken from our car as we drove along Kabul streets.
When man is perplexed, God is beneficent.
When man is perplexed, God is beneficent. (An Afghan proverb)
I’ve had a few conversations here with people who moved to Afghanistan to work, and as it happens to be, most of them have little kids. I am trying to find out what drives people to come here and how they can justify bringing their children here. I’m sure a lot of people would think that this is very inresponsible. It’s bad enough to risk your own safety, not talking about that of the little children. And, me being me, I asked people this exact question. The answers that I got from different families were pretty much the same and these conversations made me see it all in a different lilght.
These people don’t fool themselves or pretend that Kabul (or any other place in Afghanistan) is a safe place. And at the same time they don’t pretend to be superheros who can deal with any situation that may arrise. They are careful and caution people. They are just ordinary people like you and me.
Living in the west we tend to worry about every little thing, up to the very ridiculous point, such as… I don’t want to even start! People who live in developed countries are actually afraid of more things than people who live in places like Kabul. People who live here realise that there are things in life, including life iteself, is out of our control and it is completely in the hands of God. Including the lives and safety of children. We have to let go of our fear. We have to let go of our controlling nature. We have to entrust our lives to God. This, and only this will make us free.
