On Being a Consumer in Afghanistan

One thing I must say about Afghanistan-- and maybe this is true of all third world countries-- the amount of time and effort put into a small service-for-pay by an Afghan is a far greater value than back at home. For instance, the haircut.

Since being in the military I have at least quadrupled the number of yearly haircuts I get. This is the cost of keeping your hair short; you have to cut it frequently or else it looks really bad. Mostly I cut my hair myself (with a little help from my spouse or, one time, my five year old) but at least once a month I go to the barber.

The barber is generally hit or miss. Sometimes you get someone who takes their time and really does a good job, trimming the edges, making sure there aren't stray hairs, cleaning up your head and neck afterwards, but mostly you get a once-over with the clippers and a fast trim around your neck and ears, and it takes less than five minutes, and it costs eight or nine bucks, plus tip.

So, the haircut in Afghanistan takes place in a tent, floor covered in Afghan rugs, smell of incense, very much like you would imagine an Arab tent in the Sahara, except there is a small TV playing Pakistani news or Bollywood movies from India. The barber charges $5 per haircut and he is intricate and precise, even with the simple head shave. He goes over things twice, three times, and uses small scissors to make sure that every hair is cut and shaped uniformly. He uses a brush to thoroughly clean off the neck and head and shoulders and uses some sort of scented powder as an "after-shave" for your head. In short, he works his tail off for $5. It is by far the best barber-haircut I have ever gotten.

I have had the same experience with the tailor and the bread-maker; they work very hard to provide a simple service and they charge very little. Of course the price is much cheaper than at home, but the remarkable thing is that the service is far superior than what we get in the US. It's really nice to be a customer here.

On Monday I'll risk the local bazaar and see what they have for sale. I want to experience that, maybe send something unique home. I am conserving my cash because there is no way to get more cash here-- I need it for haircuts and to pay for shipping my belongings back to Las Vegas in December (I want to travel light on the way home). I guess I'll set aside money for shipping and 4 and 1/2 months of haircuts and see what I have left. I've heard they have silk and wool rugs, but I'm sure some are quite expensive.

Vaguely Romantic Notions

The sunrise burns red every morning over Pakistan, blotted out by either smoke or dust in the troposphere. For being a country that has neither industry nor fleets of automobiles, the air quality here is horrible.

I had some vaguely romantic notions about Afghanistan before I got here, but they have largely dissipated. I can see the ruins of two hill forts that supposedly date back to 2300 years ago, and that's cool, but they are mined so no one goes up there, and the novelty of seeing them in the distance has worn off.

The landscape here is severe, torn, and littered with the combined detritus of modern warfare and Third World poverty. Dust, diesel, burning garbage, and sewage is what you see and smell here. The Afghans all look hard and road worn. Females are all hidden away, I'm assuming they stay in the mud huts. The kids all have old eyes. From afar you see a child, but when you get close you have to ask yourself "is that a small 16 year old or a steel-eyed 8 year old? It's strange. People say that all the time, that the kids here are tough beyond their years.

I was speaking with an interpreter-- an Afghan man in his 40's-- listening to the tale of the downfall of his family, and I realized that Afghans my age (36) have grown up with constant war and worsening poverty. One million Afghans were killed during the Soviet-Afghan war and the country dropped from being almost the least developed in the world to, now, being the least developed in the world, just behind Angola. Some of his family managed to flee to the US, himself included, but now he has returned, trying to give something back to his native country by working as an interpreter for NATO.

It's an interesting story and I'll jot it in down in my journal to tell later (remind me). Unfortunately I can't publish everything here!

Anyway, carrying on. Safe and sound...