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Journey to Afghanistan - page 4

Day 1, by Ken Magee

The "rules of the road," dictated that slower moving traffic should always pull over and let the General's procession with its constantly beeping horns get by without slowing its pace. At several checkpoints soldiers hurried to lower the cables crossing the road. As the drivers slowed very little, I wondered several times who would win that race.

Near Mazar-i-Sharif we rapidly approached a little yellow taxi ahead of us. It must have had a driver who had experienced too many explosions at close range. He ignored our rapidly closing and noisy group. The little rusty-yellow taxi was not only packed with people inside but had some hanging on the roof and four in the trunk with its lid propped up with a stick. The first two cars whipped around it but as our driver approached, a large truck loomed in the oncoming lane.

In my mind time seemed to abruptly slow. Would our driver choose the truck or the taxi? Was this the way my trip to the other side of the world would end? Too late he slammed on his brakes apparently choosing the taxi. I saw the fright on the faces of those hanging on the outside of the taxi. The thought that people were praying for us passed through my mind. At the last moment our driver cramped his front wheels to the right and we hurled over a six foot bank into the desert. The car landed upright and with minimal jolting. Our driver gunned the engine, paralleling the road through the sand. A quarter of a mile further on a more gentle slope again allowed us access to the road where the other two cars waited. We stopped and the cars unloaded followed by a lot of Afghan hugs, kisses, and back slaps.

Climbing back into our autos we could see the Hindu Cush Mountains dimly through blowing sand and dust. By then I was eager to get to my new temporary home. But entering Mazar-i-Sharif we drove down narrow rocky streets to a large walled house surrounded by men in army uniforms. It was the home of the General. As we got out I was trying to remember, do you cross your heart with your right hand first before you shake hands, or do you do it afterward?

There had evidently been some radioing ahead and they were prepared for us. They explained it was their wish to thank Allah that none were killed. A large ram sheep with full curled horns was brought out, wrestled to the ground over a narrow deep ditch and held by several men as its throat was cut. The sheep tried to kick away its restraints. It was a bloody time. With some trepidation I wondered, "What am I getting into?" They then extended an invitation to come that evening and eat the sheep with them.

It was good to finally get to our Afghan home with its large steel doors where we could stow away our luggage. We found mats in a cold room. I was glad I'd come prepared with plenty of long-johns, a down sleeping bag and feather coat - guaranteed for temperatures well below zero.

That evening we dined with two Generals from the Northern Alliance, the trader and many other men. There was only one lady present, one associated with our medical team. Three representatives from the US government were included. One imposing American carried his machine gun under his coat and sat at the head of the table with the two Generals. During the numerous toasts he spoke in this manner: "We in America are very grateful to you, our Afghan friends, who have fought so hard to rid yourselves of our common enemy. Many of your people have paid the ultimate sacrifice by giving their very lives. Your acts have saved the lives of thousands of my countrymen. For this we are most thankful. We salute you with the highest respect."

The meal was delicious. Small pieces of sheep were impaled, seasoned and cooked on metal skewers; delicious shish kebobs. Excellent bread and goat cheese, soup and some fruit was served. Men servants in their army camouflage uniforms made sure the supply of food and tea never lagged.

After the meal our hosts kindly presented us with small white hats and large thick coats - "Afghan central heating systems." I had not yet learned, as I later did, that at future such gatherings it would be my duty as the eldest there to give the first speech. But I did wonder even more, "Oh my, what am I getting into?" even while appreciating their gracious ways.

This concludes the first chapter of Ken's adventures in Afghanistan.

Chapter 2 - Night and Day - Next Page>>