Ashtrays and mice

Wednesday 11 November 2009

Unfortunately, there was an accident yesterday just outside of the wire at the 8^th FST involving some ANA (Afghan National Army) soldiers. The details of the story were recounted to me last night by the FST Commander. The ANA is actually very well respected by coalition troops. They form the lead and tail elements of many patrols and we treat more ANA casualties than Americans or NATO forces. They are a tough lot with their own idiosyncracies, like everyone else. At any rate, five ANA soldiers were apparently in a bunker when one of them threw a cigarette butt down and ignited a fire, cooking off an RPG, which ignited several other RPG’s, injuring all five. There is certainly no humor in that, but after operating on the guys, the surgeons starting passing around a hat for the “ANA ashtray fund.” Pretty good stuff.

I had the pleasure last week of eating an Afghan meal prepared and served by some of the Afghani interpreters who accompany the local outreach efforts. It was certainly the best meal I have had in many months and amazingly, all courses were prepared over one small field stove. There were several curries with potatoes, a long grain rice, and local bread. They also served a tabouli-like salad with spicy peppers. The food was excellent, but the company was even better. I really like the Afghan people who I have met. I suppose I expected most Afghanis to be stoic and stolid, similar to the folks I’ve interacted with in Ladakh and Kashmir, but the Afghanis are more apt to smile, laugh, tease, and joke. Granted, the sample is a bit skewed because these interpreters have a fair amount of interaction with Americans, so they tend to adopt some of our habits and mannerisms, but they have an innate happiness that pleasantly surprised me. Rather than being destroyed by the centuries of war and suffering experienced by their nation, most are generally upbeat, generous, and gracious. The Afghanis who work in the laundry tent are equally as pleasant. About once per week or so, they hide a rubber mouse between the pages of the sign-in book and laugh hysterically when I, or anyone else, looks shocked as it is discovered. Kind of like playing 'pull my finger', the joke just never seems to get old. People are resilient.