I have a short story to tell, from when I was in Kandahar in
the winter of 2007. This was before I knew Ajmal. But I thought some of you
might be wondering about me, an American acting as the campaign press
secretary. This tale might help you to
know me just a little better.
My first experiences with the people of Afghanistan came
when I was living in Kandahar and went out exploring the City. I was told by
everyone that it was dangerous for me to go out in the City of Kandahar. I could be kidnapped or worse. I believed them, but life should be lived
fully. Hiding in a compound all day and
all night just isn’t my style.
My friend Raziq tried his best to find some traditional
styled clothing to fit me. You can see
from the photo I was just a bit larger than the clothing he eventually brought
to me. After donning my disguise, I rode
with Raziq and another friend from Kandahar Air Base into the City of Kandahar
in an old Toyota Corolla.
Raziq was concerned about roadside bombs, so I had my hat
pulled low across my face and a gray and white shawl wrapped high around my
neck. I had grown a slight graying
beard. From a distance, while I was
seated in the Toyota I might appear to be an Afghan.
While in town we had lunch at an excellent restaurant where
I enjoyed the best cucumbers and yogurt I have ever eaten. Then we visited the gold sellers street where
this photo was taken.
Later we stopped at a vegetable market, because I was in
town to buy some large quantities of fresh fruit and vegetables. I left Raziq and his friends talking and I
roamed alone through the mounds and piles of carrots and potatoes and other
fresh vegetables.
My attention was attracted by a loud cracking sound, much
like fire crackers or small explosions.
But the sound was not that of a rifle or a bomb. I was curious and walked toward the main
street. Standing on the edge of the curb
I leaned out looking to my left to see what all the commotion was about.
I should have been more aware of my surroundings. It was only later that I realized while I was
walking toward the edge of the road all the other people in the market were
slowly moving back away from the road.
Suddenly a convoy of ISAF vehicles appeared from around a
bend in the road. The noise was a
warning klaxon on the lead vehicle. All
the people of Kandahar recognized this cracking sound as the warning that a
military convoy was coming through.
The armored vehicles were moving way too fast for the narrow
road conditions. A poor carrot farmer
whose overloaded cart laden with carrots and pulled by an ancient graying
donkey fell into a pothole on the side of the road. The cart overturned as the
convoy roared by.
I stared at the soldiers or private contractors as they sped
past me. The last vehicle in the convoy
was driven by a particularly crazed individual.
He saw me standing alone by the curb.
So he veered sharply toward me so that the right side wheels of his
armored vehicle ran through a big puddle of very brown muddy water. The water shot out from beneath the
tires. I was drenched from the waist
down in a disgusting brown muck.
The old man standing across on the other corner with the
overturned cart, looked near to crying.
Anger and frustration were lined in his sun withered face. I walked over and gave him some help to push
the cart upright. Then standing in ankle deep water I helped to throw the 50
kilo bags of carrots back into the van.
By the time we were finished loading his cart, I was truly
filthy. I took a couple loose carrots
and fed them to his calm and sturdy donkey.
He said, “salaam aliakum” and I
repeated the words back to him.
Returning to the back corner of the market where my friends
were waiting I was greeted by some strange looks. I had left them wearing spotlessly clean, new
clothing. I returned covered in mud that
had turned the lower half of my legs and shoes a dark beige color. My hands were dirty brown. I even had mud in my hair.
I just looked back at them and said, “my friends I now know
what that strange noise means.”
Thankfully we had finished all we wanted to accomplish that day, so we
climbed into the beat up Toyota and headed out of town. That’s when I noticed a gathering of nomadic
people, off in a distant field. A
wedding celebration was just beginning.
“Raziq,” I said, turning to my friend who was sitting in the
back seat fingering his beads, saying a silent prayer of thanks that we had
made it out of town safely. “Raziq. do
you think the bride and groom would mind if an American invited himself to
their wedding party?”
But that wedding party is a tale for another day. I hope you enjoyed my tale about shopping for
vegetables in Kandahar.
Keith E. Jones
Author Bio:
Keith Jones is the founder of Baja Jones Adventures, Jones Adventures, Tigress Tours in Thailand and Butanding Tours in the Philippine Islands and has led thousands of people to Mexico and other interesting locations around the world. He specializes in gray whale tour, blue whale tour, gray and blue whale combo tour, giant panda bear tour, walk a tiger tour, shark tour, African safari tour, African gorilla trek, arctic narwhal tour and Magdalena Bay whale watching tour. He also writes about Baja travel and gray whales. Keith Jones is the author of Gray Whales My Twenty Years of Discovery.
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