A few kilometers south of the Kandahar Airfield is a place known as Tarnak Farms. Although this place is now used as a weapons range, it is a place that has a colorful history and a bit of notoriety for a couple of reasons. Today, there is not much to see there. It is a large expansive area in the middle of the desert and if you were to stand there, you wouldn’t think too much of it. There are mountains off in the distance on almost all sides that look quite spectacular when lit up by the morning or late afternoon sun, but apart from that it is a barren and isolated place.
Perhaps it is this isolation that made it such an attractive locale over a decade ago when Osama bin Laden built a rather large compound there to house himself and many of his top lieutenants. It was here that the plan to hijack commercial airliners and crash them into prominent American landmarks began to form. In exile from both his homeland, Saudi Arabia, and the Sudan, bin Laden sought refuge in the one place where he was once revered as an icon. During the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, bin Laden was a key financial supporter in the jihad against the Soviets. This, along with the fact that he shared many of his beliefs with the Taliban, who were just coming into power at the time, made Afghanistan an ideal place to find sanctuary while carrying out his plans to target the west.
By this point in his life, bin Laden was a well known threat to American interests and an entire department within the CIA was dedicated to tracking his movements and determining the best way to neutralize the threat posed by him. While living in Afghanistan, the CIA monitored bin Laden very closely and he, of course, was well aware of this. In order to reduce his chances of detection and being targeted, bin Laden moved around the countryside every few hours. Although Tarnak Farms was central to his operation, it was but only one place where he could be found.
But, with millions of dollars spent on finding him, eventually bin Laden would be found. In 1998, bin Laden was positively identified as being present at Tarnak Farms and the process of seeking the necessary approvals for a missile strike were set into motion. It is believed that the decision to fire rested with Clinton, then President of the United States. Discussions were held as to the potential civilian casualties that may be caused should the compound be targeted, as several families of Al Qaida’s top lieutenants also lived at Tarnak Farms. With the Monica Lewinsky scandal in high gear and Clinton appearing on national television to apologize for his indiscretions, the decision was taken to cancel the strike. It was thought that too many civilian casualties was not something that the current administration could shoulder given the current state of affairs. Tarnak Farms remained in tact until the 2001 invasion of Afghanistan. Only then was Tarnak Farms reduced to rubble.
Then, as coalition forces moved into the neighboring Kandahar Airfield, Tarnak Farms presented an ideal spot to set up as a practice range for various types of weapons. Shortly thereafter, in April of 2002, members of the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry were conducting a night fire shoot at Tarnak Farms with a combination of small arms and anti-tank weapons. Two American jets flying overhead mistook the fire below for enemy fire and although the proper clearances were not granted, one of the pilots declared self-defence and released a bomb that killed the first four Canadians in Afghanistan. This incident received wide media coverage as the pilot responsible for the incident maintained that his actions were justified throughout the ensuing legal processes that continued for several years.
Although now, it is nothing more than a barren patch of desert, Tarnak Farms has a historical importance that most are probably unaware. It has had a significant impact on the lives of few, but holds a significance that is much larger for all. Of course, it is easy to look back in hindsight and wonder what may have been, or more accurately, what may not have been had a different course of action been taken a few years ago. But one cannot help but let these thoughts enter your mind when you stare out into the emptiness knowing that the world’s most wanted fugitive launched his plan that was to change the world only a few hundred meters from where you stand.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas in Kandahar
It seems that in our lives, for the most part, we cannot remember every single Christmas. They all tend to blend together and we can only recall a few that stick out for one reason or another. Well, this year is one that I will probably remember for a very long time to come. Not because it was good, or bad for that matter, but simply because it was different. I celebrated Christmas in a way that I never have before, and most likely never will again.
Of course, when you are deployed and are away from your family and friends, Christmas is going to be different. I expected it to be so, and so it was simply a matter to see how different. One of the nice things about Christmas on deployment is how supportive everyone can be. I received many gifts from family and friends, including co-workers. It was a very nice feeling to know that people put in the effort just to bring you a bit of joy while you are away from home. But, it isn’t just the support from people that you know, it is also the support from people that you don’t know. Christmas cards, gifts and messages poured in from Canada to wish us well. It is very touching to know that people all across the country take a few moments from their own lives to reach out and let you know that they are there. This is my chance to say thank you to all of those who took a few moments to pass on a bit of holiday cheer. It was greatly appreciated.
As I have mentioned in the past, I no longer live at the Airfield with the rest of the Canadians but live at a small camp that contains only a handful of people. The entire mentoring team that I work with lives here and we are comprised of soldiers from several nations. There are ten of us from four different countries - Canada, the United States, Great Britain and Holland. Thus, at Christmas Eve, we all found ourselves separated from not only our families, but also from the majority of our fellow countrymen, who were located at the main Airfield. But, Christmas is that time of year that brings people together. Instead of spending the evening feeling sorry for ourselves, we faced the bitter cold that night and built a bonfire, played a bit of music and spent the evening telling a few stories and joking around. Although there was no Christmas tree, no snow or no fat man in a red suit, there were plenty of good tidings of comfort and joy. Although it was a multinational affair, each one of those individuals there could have just as easily been a next door neighbor from home.
As for Christmas Day, we were given the day off and did not have to visit the Afghans and mentor them on their daily business. Instead, we all volunteered to do guard duty and give the regular soldiers a day off to have some rest and relaxation. I spent the afternoon on Christmas Day manning a gate, checking the IDs of people coming in and searching vehicles. It is the only Christmas I have spent wearing a helmet, body armor and looking over the barrel of a heavy machine gun. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like 200 chain linked rounds coming out of the barrel of a gun at the rate of about 10 per second. Thankfully, I contained my urge to provide the camp with a Christmas fireworks display.
And so that is how Christmas went for me. It was different, but nevertheless, it was an experience I enjoyed. Of course, it doesn’t beat the fun of opening gifts on Christmas morning or eating that little bit of extra turkey, but there was still that same magic in the air. Even if just for the day, you put your troubles aside and enjoyed being in the moment. Plus, in years to come, this will be one Christmas that will not blend in with the rest. It is one that will provide me with memories of how Christmas finds a way to bring people together.
Of course, when you are deployed and are away from your family and friends, Christmas is going to be different. I expected it to be so, and so it was simply a matter to see how different. One of the nice things about Christmas on deployment is how supportive everyone can be. I received many gifts from family and friends, including co-workers. It was a very nice feeling to know that people put in the effort just to bring you a bit of joy while you are away from home. But, it isn’t just the support from people that you know, it is also the support from people that you don’t know. Christmas cards, gifts and messages poured in from Canada to wish us well. It is very touching to know that people all across the country take a few moments from their own lives to reach out and let you know that they are there. This is my chance to say thank you to all of those who took a few moments to pass on a bit of holiday cheer. It was greatly appreciated.
As I have mentioned in the past, I no longer live at the Airfield with the rest of the Canadians but live at a small camp that contains only a handful of people. The entire mentoring team that I work with lives here and we are comprised of soldiers from several nations. There are ten of us from four different countries - Canada, the United States, Great Britain and Holland. Thus, at Christmas Eve, we all found ourselves separated from not only our families, but also from the majority of our fellow countrymen, who were located at the main Airfield. But, Christmas is that time of year that brings people together. Instead of spending the evening feeling sorry for ourselves, we faced the bitter cold that night and built a bonfire, played a bit of music and spent the evening telling a few stories and joking around. Although there was no Christmas tree, no snow or no fat man in a red suit, there were plenty of good tidings of comfort and joy. Although it was a multinational affair, each one of those individuals there could have just as easily been a next door neighbor from home.
As for Christmas Day, we were given the day off and did not have to visit the Afghans and mentor them on their daily business. Instead, we all volunteered to do guard duty and give the regular soldiers a day off to have some rest and relaxation. I spent the afternoon on Christmas Day manning a gate, checking the IDs of people coming in and searching vehicles. It is the only Christmas I have spent wearing a helmet, body armor and looking over the barrel of a heavy machine gun. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like 200 chain linked rounds coming out of the barrel of a gun at the rate of about 10 per second. Thankfully, I contained my urge to provide the camp with a Christmas fireworks display.
And so that is how Christmas went for me. It was different, but nevertheless, it was an experience I enjoyed. Of course, it doesn’t beat the fun of opening gifts on Christmas morning or eating that little bit of extra turkey, but there was still that same magic in the air. Even if just for the day, you put your troubles aside and enjoyed being in the moment. Plus, in years to come, this will be one Christmas that will not blend in with the rest. It is one that will provide me with memories of how Christmas finds a way to bring people together.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
So this is Christmas
With Christmas just around the corner and the end of 2007 only days afterwards, for many, this time of year is often a time of reflection. Each of us, in our own way, will recall moments in the past year that remind us of joy and sorrow, of successes and defeats, of moments we wish we could hold onto forever and of moments we wish we could take back. Each year, my own personal moments of reflection are generally brought on through the ever-slightly melancholy song “Happy Christmas” by the late John Lennon.
However, perhaps this year, in my own personal moment of reflection, this song has a somewhat different meaning. For those who are unaware, Lennon’s song “Happy Christmas” is also sometimes referred to as “War is Over” and those very words are repeated in the background and fade out as the song ends. Unfortunately, as you know, the war in Afghanistan is not over. And for many thousands of troops from many nations, a happy Christmas this year will be spent away from our family and friends.
But my message this week is not to seek pity for having to spend the holiday season away from my family and friends. My message this week is to reflect on the past year in Afghanistan. It is my hope that in discovering the events of the last year, that you will look upon your own lives of the past year through the lens of the unfortunate events that happen in this country on an almost daily basis. The joys and sorrows of our lives are often put into perspective when we compare our situation to those who are significantly less fortunate than ourselves.
This year is often referred to by the media as the deadliest year in Afghanistan since the US led invasion in 2001. Over 240 coalition soldiers have lost their lives this year in Afghanistan – 29 of them were Canadian. This number is up from under 200 last year. But the number of coalition soldiers killed is not the only statistic that has seen an increase. Although it is difficult to maintain an accurate count of civilian casualties, estimates put the number close to 1400. Approximately one half of those are due to coalition attacks. Such a high count has caused UN officials, as well as President Karzai, to call for coalition forces to act with restraint.
The Taliban continues to target civilians and has claimed the lives of around 300 individuals in suicide attacks this year. There have been over 140 suicide attacks aimed at coalition and Afghan security forces as well as ordinary civilians. This is almost double the amount of similar attacks mounted last year. In all, including insurgent deaths, there have been over 6000 people killed this year. This is by far the highest total since 2001.
Fighting, which was mostly contained to the southern and eastern part of the country, has now moved into more peaceful parts of the country. The coalition claims to have the enemy on the run and states that it is an indication of their desperation. The enemy claims that it is the failure of the Afghan Government to govern throughout the country and that this lack of security has left most of the country vulnerable.
Lack of security, poverty, corruption and drug production continue to pose problems. This year, the opium crop in Afghanistan grew to 93 percent of the world’s supply and remains a major source of income for the Taliban. Corruption exists at every level of government, more than half the population lives in poverty and in many parts of the country, security continues to dwindle.
So it is through this lens that I look at 2007. I have experienced joy and sorrow. There have been personal successes and defeats. There are moments that will stay with me for the rest of my life and there are moments I wish I could take back. But, I do not live in fear that someone close to me will not return home at the end of the day. I do not fear that police forces in my neighborhood will rob me in order to supplement their wages. I do not fear that a desperate man will walk into a crowded street and detonate a vest that is laden with explosives. Instead, I will spend but only one Christmas out of many with others who are also separated from their families and do my small part to make 2008 a little better for those who do not have the choice to leave.
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
However, perhaps this year, in my own personal moment of reflection, this song has a somewhat different meaning. For those who are unaware, Lennon’s song “Happy Christmas” is also sometimes referred to as “War is Over” and those very words are repeated in the background and fade out as the song ends. Unfortunately, as you know, the war in Afghanistan is not over. And for many thousands of troops from many nations, a happy Christmas this year will be spent away from our family and friends.
But my message this week is not to seek pity for having to spend the holiday season away from my family and friends. My message this week is to reflect on the past year in Afghanistan. It is my hope that in discovering the events of the last year, that you will look upon your own lives of the past year through the lens of the unfortunate events that happen in this country on an almost daily basis. The joys and sorrows of our lives are often put into perspective when we compare our situation to those who are significantly less fortunate than ourselves.
This year is often referred to by the media as the deadliest year in Afghanistan since the US led invasion in 2001. Over 240 coalition soldiers have lost their lives this year in Afghanistan – 29 of them were Canadian. This number is up from under 200 last year. But the number of coalition soldiers killed is not the only statistic that has seen an increase. Although it is difficult to maintain an accurate count of civilian casualties, estimates put the number close to 1400. Approximately one half of those are due to coalition attacks. Such a high count has caused UN officials, as well as President Karzai, to call for coalition forces to act with restraint.
The Taliban continues to target civilians and has claimed the lives of around 300 individuals in suicide attacks this year. There have been over 140 suicide attacks aimed at coalition and Afghan security forces as well as ordinary civilians. This is almost double the amount of similar attacks mounted last year. In all, including insurgent deaths, there have been over 6000 people killed this year. This is by far the highest total since 2001.
Fighting, which was mostly contained to the southern and eastern part of the country, has now moved into more peaceful parts of the country. The coalition claims to have the enemy on the run and states that it is an indication of their desperation. The enemy claims that it is the failure of the Afghan Government to govern throughout the country and that this lack of security has left most of the country vulnerable.
Lack of security, poverty, corruption and drug production continue to pose problems. This year, the opium crop in Afghanistan grew to 93 percent of the world’s supply and remains a major source of income for the Taliban. Corruption exists at every level of government, more than half the population lives in poverty and in many parts of the country, security continues to dwindle.
So it is through this lens that I look at 2007. I have experienced joy and sorrow. There have been personal successes and defeats. There are moments that will stay with me for the rest of my life and there are moments I wish I could take back. But, I do not live in fear that someone close to me will not return home at the end of the day. I do not fear that police forces in my neighborhood will rob me in order to supplement their wages. I do not fear that a desperate man will walk into a crowded street and detonate a vest that is laden with explosives. Instead, I will spend but only one Christmas out of many with others who are also separated from their families and do my small part to make 2008 a little better for those who do not have the choice to leave.
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
Friday, December 14, 2007
Of Mice and Men
We are at war in Afghanistan. This statement should not surprise you, but I am not referring to the war in which you might think. The enemy is not the Taliban. No, it is an enemy that is more cunning, more devious and has a complete lack of respect for the welfare of those it chooses to assault. We are at war with mice.
Recently, I have relocated and no longer live at KAF. All Corps level mentors, including myself, have moved to a smaller forward operating base in a move that is aimed at making our lives a little more convenient. Our accommodations are of Afghan design and provide little defense against the constant onslaught of the mice. Both the doors to the small entranceway outside each room as well as the doors to the outside world do not reach the floor and so the warm air passing to the outside on a cool night is nothing more than an open invitation for an attack.
And without hesitation, the mice have launched their attack. On my very first night in my new room I was caught with my guard down and the offensive began. After turning on the heat and leaving the room for a while to warm up I became the first target. As I returned and began sorting out my kit, I picked up a kit bag from the floor to tuck it under my bed. A mouse fell from the bag directly onto my foot and scurried across the floor to take shelter behind my wardrobe. I had just sustained my first direct hit.
However, in a room that was virtually empty of furniture and only one exit, my counterattack was swift. I grabbed my flashlight and looked in behind the wardrobe. Sure enough, the mouse sat there quietly trying to curl itself into a tiny ball to avoid detection. Frightened, he sat there in a pool of his own urine and I began to feel sorry for him. But as we locked eyes, I could see that he was pure evil. My pity was his weapon and I refused to let him use it against me. I pulled the wardrobe away from the wall and he retreated across the room. Finding cover behind my helmet that lay on the floor, his attempt at escape and evasion was of no success. As I peered around one side of the helmet, he would run to the opposite side. I would then shift the direction of my attack and lean to the other side only to see him run around to the opposite side. The game of cat and mouse was on. Things carried on in this manner for the better part of half an hour until he finally managed to escape under the door and back into the cover of darkness. His reconnaissance was successful. He had made contact and now had valuable intelligence that I knew he would pass on to his superiors. The score was mice - one, me - zero.
Many of us were quick to act and knowing that we were in a vulnerable position each of us set our defences. Some tried to block entry by placing a board to cover the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. Others tried to placate the enemy by heating the adjacent room while leaving the door ajar in order that the mice would choose to accept a warm, yet empty room as some sort of peace deal. And yet, some chose not to defend at all. This was not their fight.
In my view, the best defence was a strong offence. I would not try to block their entry and hope for the best. Nor would I would attempt to negotiate and offer a warm sanctuary elsewhere. Instead, I set traps and would use their hunger as my weapon. After a few days of waiting I saw the evidence of their incursions into my room and knew then that it was time to fight them head on. I placed a trap under my bed where the evidence was most obvious and waited. With a small bit of a gingersnap cookie as my bait, I knew that I would not have to wait long. And I was right, in less than twenty minutes as I sat quietly on my bed reading, I heard the snap of the trap. But, the enemy had proven to be more adept than I had given him credit for. The trap lay on the floor, upside down and empty. But the battle was not over. As I scanned under the bed with my flashlight, the enemy was there, again in a puddle of his own urine. This time he would not get away. I quickly gathered my kit from under the bed and moved it to the next room to in order to clear the battlefield. His game of cat and mouse would not succeed this time. But, when I had returned, the room was empty. Again, he had escaped into the night. Although he did not get the cookie, the score was now mice - two, me - zero.
It was time to re-evaluate and shift tactics. I gathered a second trap and placed it just outside the door to my room yet still inside the small entranceway to the building. It was a staggered defence. Although the risk of attracting further attacks had increased I could counter by luring them into the trap without bringing them inside my room. Further, fearing that a small cookie was too easy to grab and run I found a weapon that would surely keep them in reach long enough for the trap to be sprung - peanut butter. I placed a dab gently on the trap and waited. Hours passed and nothing. It was quiet...too quiet. As I left my room at the end of the evening to brush my teeth, it was then that I knew that this was a war that could not be easily won. Every ounce of peanut butter was gone. It was almost as if the trap had been licked completely clean and yet it remained in tact still waiting to spring. Mice - three, me - zero.
Although I have sustained losses, I remain positive. But with each incursion, I am reminded that war is never pretty, nor glamorous. Even those who live to fight another day are its victims. Each time I enter my room I do so cautiously in case the mice are ready to attack. Any out of place object that catches the corner of my eye causes me to withdraw if but only for a moment. As for the mice, they no doubt bear the scars of humiliation as each encounter leaves them cowering in a pool of their own urine. But, in the end, we are not so different, the mice and I. Sure, our objectives may be different and our reasons for acting as we do may differ as well. But in the end, all that we both hope for is that when this mess is over we can both go back home to our families and chase these horrific memories from our minds lest we be forced to relive the terror of the game of cat and mouse day after day until the end of our days.
Recently, I have relocated and no longer live at KAF. All Corps level mentors, including myself, have moved to a smaller forward operating base in a move that is aimed at making our lives a little more convenient. Our accommodations are of Afghan design and provide little defense against the constant onslaught of the mice. Both the doors to the small entranceway outside each room as well as the doors to the outside world do not reach the floor and so the warm air passing to the outside on a cool night is nothing more than an open invitation for an attack.
And without hesitation, the mice have launched their attack. On my very first night in my new room I was caught with my guard down and the offensive began. After turning on the heat and leaving the room for a while to warm up I became the first target. As I returned and began sorting out my kit, I picked up a kit bag from the floor to tuck it under my bed. A mouse fell from the bag directly onto my foot and scurried across the floor to take shelter behind my wardrobe. I had just sustained my first direct hit.
However, in a room that was virtually empty of furniture and only one exit, my counterattack was swift. I grabbed my flashlight and looked in behind the wardrobe. Sure enough, the mouse sat there quietly trying to curl itself into a tiny ball to avoid detection. Frightened, he sat there in a pool of his own urine and I began to feel sorry for him. But as we locked eyes, I could see that he was pure evil. My pity was his weapon and I refused to let him use it against me. I pulled the wardrobe away from the wall and he retreated across the room. Finding cover behind my helmet that lay on the floor, his attempt at escape and evasion was of no success. As I peered around one side of the helmet, he would run to the opposite side. I would then shift the direction of my attack and lean to the other side only to see him run around to the opposite side. The game of cat and mouse was on. Things carried on in this manner for the better part of half an hour until he finally managed to escape under the door and back into the cover of darkness. His reconnaissance was successful. He had made contact and now had valuable intelligence that I knew he would pass on to his superiors. The score was mice - one, me - zero.
Many of us were quick to act and knowing that we were in a vulnerable position each of us set our defences. Some tried to block entry by placing a board to cover the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. Others tried to placate the enemy by heating the adjacent room while leaving the door ajar in order that the mice would choose to accept a warm, yet empty room as some sort of peace deal. And yet, some chose not to defend at all. This was not their fight.
In my view, the best defence was a strong offence. I would not try to block their entry and hope for the best. Nor would I would attempt to negotiate and offer a warm sanctuary elsewhere. Instead, I set traps and would use their hunger as my weapon. After a few days of waiting I saw the evidence of their incursions into my room and knew then that it was time to fight them head on. I placed a trap under my bed where the evidence was most obvious and waited. With a small bit of a gingersnap cookie as my bait, I knew that I would not have to wait long. And I was right, in less than twenty minutes as I sat quietly on my bed reading, I heard the snap of the trap. But, the enemy had proven to be more adept than I had given him credit for. The trap lay on the floor, upside down and empty. But the battle was not over. As I scanned under the bed with my flashlight, the enemy was there, again in a puddle of his own urine. This time he would not get away. I quickly gathered my kit from under the bed and moved it to the next room to in order to clear the battlefield. His game of cat and mouse would not succeed this time. But, when I had returned, the room was empty. Again, he had escaped into the night. Although he did not get the cookie, the score was now mice - two, me - zero.
It was time to re-evaluate and shift tactics. I gathered a second trap and placed it just outside the door to my room yet still inside the small entranceway to the building. It was a staggered defence. Although the risk of attracting further attacks had increased I could counter by luring them into the trap without bringing them inside my room. Further, fearing that a small cookie was too easy to grab and run I found a weapon that would surely keep them in reach long enough for the trap to be sprung - peanut butter. I placed a dab gently on the trap and waited. Hours passed and nothing. It was quiet...too quiet. As I left my room at the end of the evening to brush my teeth, it was then that I knew that this was a war that could not be easily won. Every ounce of peanut butter was gone. It was almost as if the trap had been licked completely clean and yet it remained in tact still waiting to spring. Mice - three, me - zero.
Although I have sustained losses, I remain positive. But with each incursion, I am reminded that war is never pretty, nor glamorous. Even those who live to fight another day are its victims. Each time I enter my room I do so cautiously in case the mice are ready to attack. Any out of place object that catches the corner of my eye causes me to withdraw if but only for a moment. As for the mice, they no doubt bear the scars of humiliation as each encounter leaves them cowering in a pool of their own urine. But, in the end, we are not so different, the mice and I. Sure, our objectives may be different and our reasons for acting as we do may differ as well. But in the end, all that we both hope for is that when this mess is over we can both go back home to our families and chase these horrific memories from our minds lest we be forced to relive the terror of the game of cat and mouse day after day until the end of our days.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Monkey Business
One of the less thought about, yet still interesting parts of a deployment is the opportunity to experience a different landscape as well as those animals that are indigenous to the land. At times, those encounters with new animals can be entertaining and at other times it can be quite dangerous. Many who know of my trip to Afghanistan last year will recall my encounter with a sand viper one evening where he was not too fond to see me.
Fortunately, I have not had such an encounter this time, although I have still had occasion to meet a few animals here in Afghanistan. Located very close to the main entrance of the Kandahar Airfield is the compound that houses many of the interpreters that we use when communicating with members of the ANA or with local nationals. The entrance to the compound is very narrow and driving in can be quite a squeeze. One must negotiate the turn and the barriers at a very slow speed, otherwise you simply will be unable to make the turn and guide your vehicle through the barriers.
Located right at the entrance is a pet that the interpreters love to play with - a monkey on a chain. He has become a bit of celebrity as foreign military personnel love to drive by and snap a few photos or provide the monkey with a bit of food. I am sure the monkey - who of course remains without a name - loves the attention. But, he has become quite friendly and will even seek out food from the vehicles uninvited as they pass by at the required slow speed to make the turn into the compound.
Although I am a lover of most animals, the monkey and I are not good friends. Each day, without fail when I come to the compound, the monkey will jump from his spot on the top of one of the barriers onto my vehicle. As I drive by, he scampers along the hood, up the windshield to the roof and then finally back to his spot on the barrier once the vehicle has passed and his chain won't allow him to ride any further. On several occasions he has stood on the side mirrors and has reached inside the vehicle, no doubt to inquire about a free handout.
Most times I am prepared. I make sure my windows are rolled up and I will watch out for him in order to avoid any surprises that he may have in store. However, watching out for monkeys does not top my list of priorities in Afghanistan and admittedly there are those times when he has caught me with my guard down. In a country where the heat inside a vehicle with all the windows rolled up can be quite stifling, there have been times when I simply forgot to keep the windows up as I pass by. This is his invitation. Sadly, on one such occasion as I drove by at the usual slow speed with my window completely rolled down, the ever-friendly monkey on a chain jumped from his spot on the barrier right into my lap. Even should one expect a monkey to jump into your lap, it can be quite an experience. The shock is multiplied when you do not expect it. But what can one do with a monkey on your lap while still trying to operate a moving vehicle. You jump and hope that he doesn't bite. But jumping only seems to get him more excited. In fact, I even think he enjoyed the whole experience. It must be the shock factor. Sadly to say, his trip inside my vehicle turned out to be unproductive as I didn't have any treats for him and he eventually retreated. However, the monkey and I have reached a common understanding since that day. He is more than welcome to pounce on the vehicle and explore the outside all he wants. In exchange for staying out of the car, I will occasionally bring him a banana or two and throw them ever so gently in his direction from the tiny crack in my window as I drive by. Since we have come to such an understanding we have become the best of friends - my little monkey on a chain.
Fortunately, I have not had such an encounter this time, although I have still had occasion to meet a few animals here in Afghanistan. Located very close to the main entrance of the Kandahar Airfield is the compound that houses many of the interpreters that we use when communicating with members of the ANA or with local nationals. The entrance to the compound is very narrow and driving in can be quite a squeeze. One must negotiate the turn and the barriers at a very slow speed, otherwise you simply will be unable to make the turn and guide your vehicle through the barriers.
Located right at the entrance is a pet that the interpreters love to play with - a monkey on a chain. He has become a bit of celebrity as foreign military personnel love to drive by and snap a few photos or provide the monkey with a bit of food. I am sure the monkey - who of course remains without a name - loves the attention. But, he has become quite friendly and will even seek out food from the vehicles uninvited as they pass by at the required slow speed to make the turn into the compound.
Although I am a lover of most animals, the monkey and I are not good friends. Each day, without fail when I come to the compound, the monkey will jump from his spot on the top of one of the barriers onto my vehicle. As I drive by, he scampers along the hood, up the windshield to the roof and then finally back to his spot on the barrier once the vehicle has passed and his chain won't allow him to ride any further. On several occasions he has stood on the side mirrors and has reached inside the vehicle, no doubt to inquire about a free handout.
Most times I am prepared. I make sure my windows are rolled up and I will watch out for him in order to avoid any surprises that he may have in store. However, watching out for monkeys does not top my list of priorities in Afghanistan and admittedly there are those times when he has caught me with my guard down. In a country where the heat inside a vehicle with all the windows rolled up can be quite stifling, there have been times when I simply forgot to keep the windows up as I pass by. This is his invitation. Sadly, on one such occasion as I drove by at the usual slow speed with my window completely rolled down, the ever-friendly monkey on a chain jumped from his spot on the barrier right into my lap. Even should one expect a monkey to jump into your lap, it can be quite an experience. The shock is multiplied when you do not expect it. But what can one do with a monkey on your lap while still trying to operate a moving vehicle. You jump and hope that he doesn't bite. But jumping only seems to get him more excited. In fact, I even think he enjoyed the whole experience. It must be the shock factor. Sadly to say, his trip inside my vehicle turned out to be unproductive as I didn't have any treats for him and he eventually retreated. However, the monkey and I have reached a common understanding since that day. He is more than welcome to pounce on the vehicle and explore the outside all he wants. In exchange for staying out of the car, I will occasionally bring him a banana or two and throw them ever so gently in his direction from the tiny crack in my window as I drive by. Since we have come to such an understanding we have become the best of friends - my little monkey on a chain.
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