Afghanistan. Near the end. 2011
I didn't sleep again last night. For once, the
cause was not the strange shift pattern interrupting my sleep cycle,
nor some overwhelming issue, preying on my mind, that kept my
peaceful slumber at bay. This time it actually was the
insurgents. Well, it was but it wasn't. I spent four hours last
night hunkered down in a concrete bunker. From 2000 to 2359 (military
time - there is no midnight), when I could have been tucked up warmly, if
not safely, in bed, I, along with about 12 others, was crouched in a dark
concrete tube designed to protect me from rocket attacks. The reason I
was there, was credible, specific intelligence that an attack was
planned. There was even a launch location. I seriously considered
staying in my bed, which, even though in a tent, is only 12 inches off the
ground and surrounded by sandbags. Only a direct hit would be
dangerous. Probably. On balance, the fact that I have only about 10 days
left, combined with the fact that the Belgian Force Protection Company
were yelling at everyone to get under cover and the loudspeakers were wailing
dire threat warnings, persuaded me that I should forsake the relative
warmth of my duvet cover for the relative safety of my concrete cover. In
the end, there was no attack. The all-clear sounded, on cue, at 2359 and
we all shuffled back to bed/tents/work, filing past the very sheepish
faces of the Belgians who had convinced us all of nothing less than
imminent overrunning of the camp and subsequent massacre.
So, after all the excitement, I couldn't sleep. It didn't
help knowing I had to be in again at 0500. Somehow, knowing I should be
asleep, needed to be asleep, made it harder for sleep to come. The more I
knew I should be in the Land of Nod, the harder it became to find it. As
I lay there, listening to the mice/rats scrabbling about (more of which, I am
fully sure I will relate in a future email), the darkness slowly giving way to
the morning light, I came to the conclusion that any chance of me completing my
journey to aforesaid Land had met with a nasty accident and I decided to take a
diversion. There is an observation post/radio mast here, rising up above
the Headquarters. My predecesssor had stated that he intended to climb it
and watch the sunrise at least once before he left. He never did and I
was determined not to make the same mistake. I climbed the tower this
morning and at the top there is a small platform, bizarrely enough, with a
desk. I don't know why or how, it just is. Somehow, such an
anachronism seems perfectly at home in this place. I wasn't quite early
enough to actually see the sunrise, it gets light very early here, but I was
early enough to enjoy some solitude, something in very short supply normally.
I sat on the desk and looked. Across the airfield where
three attack helicopters sat, rotors turning, heat haze shimmering from
their engines. Across to the low hills, where mud walled compounds
marking the outer suburbs of Kabul cover the slopes, glowing orange in the
early morning sun. Across to the now snow-free tips of the jagged Hindu Kush
mountains, muddy brown against an already clear blue sky. Above the
ever-present humming of the hundreds of generators that power this
international camp I could hear the Muezzin calling the faithful to Fajr, the
first prayers of the day. With less than two weeks to go I sat and
thought. I thought about the last six months, of the things I have seen
and done and what they mean to me. I have been told by some friends
that some of my emails are a bit dark and brooding. They are probably
right. It's difficult to find light and airy tales to tell. Some of
them have expressed concern about how it may have affected me. It's
difficult to say. I have seen things I wish I hadn't. I have done
things I never thought I would. I hate this country and love it in equal
measure. It's beautiful. Its people are incredibly welcoming and
hospitable. It's also incredibly ugly and home to some of the
vilest people on earth. I wish I had never come, but wouldn't want to
have never been. I am glad I came. It has affected me, I don't know
if it has changed me. I don't know a lot of things but it's a new dawn, a
new day. And I'm feeling good.
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