March 2009 Afghanistan
I have been out on leave for awhile, so no new photos this month. I don’t have a story yet either, but I have one from a friend who flies C-130s, the same type plane that I snapped awhile ago at a US base, seen above. It is worth a re-print here.
January 1st, 2009 – Kabul, Afghanistan
Happy New Year! It is midnight straight up here in the local year of 1387, and the other guys are out – I am all by myself, rocking some beats, manning the phones that rarely ring and securing Fort Infidel. (more…)
November 2008
Dubai Airport, 14-hour layover
DXB is a big, bright, ultramodern airport, neatly displaying the new wealth of this city. The people are clean and carefully dressed; a traditional white robe for the men, and all black all the way to the floor for the women, never mind the swampy 120 degree air. Some of the women had only a narrow slit opening for the eyes, further bound by a black thread down the bridge of the nose holding this envelope tight. They could be teenagers or grandmothers, there was no telling. (more…)
September 2008 Kabul, Afghanistan
Unfortunately this story takes place in a septic tank, but that is not really what it is about. And I do not mean to debase this unfortunate dude by making light of his station in life, but I might not last long if I cannot find some dark humor in what goes on around here. (more…)
August 2008 Kabul. Afghanistan
We live in a big house in the city, with 12-foot walls, razor wire, a heavy front gate, a couple of security guys and a driver, and a good cook, Fariba. She has a cooking show on local tv, and she makes me eat my vegetables. I cannnot state enough how much this place needs a woman’s touch. It is like a fraternity house, minus the beer, the girls and the music. It is functional and well-stocked, but not presentable. It is an outpost. (more…)
July 2008 Kabul, Afghanistan
It is a hot, dry, windy place, with a brown hazy sky, dust tornadoes, and streets paved with rocks. Many of the houses have running water, and most have electricity most of the time. Bombed-out buildings, minefields, craters, and mangled Soviet armor here and there. Helicopter gunships rattle the rooftops, two at a time. Elderly Russian transport planes sag across the sky, then sometimes spiral in towards the airfield at an aggressive angle, just in case anyone out in the hills feels like taking a shot. It is a little unnerving to unexpectedly plummet into Kabul, while on a long-expired commercial airplane entirely full of bearded guys in robes. (more…)
Housefly 