Kristmas in Kandahar

Christmas snuck up on me this year. Normally one is bombarded by Christmas messages in the weeks leading up to the 25th: TV specials, advertising, lights on houses. This year I was bombarded, but not by Christmas, by the insurgents (though very far away and absolutely no danger to me - just to be clear). So it was the 21st and I was on my way to the Canadian contingent Christmas party before it hit me that Christmas was only four days away. Once at the party our Social Committee tried their best to get everyone into the spirit of the season. We also were allowed our "2 beers per man perhaps" for this party, though in a fit of misguided solidarity with my dry American subordinates, I opted for the orange Fanta instead of the Molson Canadian. There were draws for gifts (I won a Keiths baseball cap), and Christmas song themed charades (the poor Major who had to come up with a way to mime "Feliz Navidad" won the day, just out of sympathy). The biggest boost from this party was just getting all the Canadians together in one place as we all work in different places throughout the headquarters and on varied schedules, so just seeing everyone and wishing them a Merry Christmas was worthwhile.

The next "Christmas" event was our lunch for the Afghans on 23 December. Faithful readers of this blog will know that during Eid our Afghan colleagues threw a little party for us. Now it was our turn to return the favour. It is very important to reciprocate hospitality in Afghan culture. We arranged for one of our interpreters to pick up food in Kandahar (it was much cheaper than buying it in the local bazaar) and some of the staff contributed goodies sent from home. I kicked in a panettone that was sent to me by the headquarters I work for in Toronto - odd, but very popular as it turned out. The Afghans were very appreciative and there were no leftovers, particularly among the sweets - though no-one could adequately explain why a Toblerone is shaped that way.

Finally we had our Christmas lunch on the 25th. Now Saturday is not a day off in Afghanistan, and this Saturday, despite it being Christmas, was no different. We had to go to work in the morning and had a normal routine until lunch. The NATO staff then departed and went back to FOB Lindsay, where we live, to have lunch. The kitchen staff go all out for these events and the mess hall was decorated with artfully carved melons, and gigantic faux cakes.

The senior officers, myself included, volunteered to serve the troops, as that is the tradition in the military. I took my place on the steam line and dished out prime rib, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese and sweet potatoes as well as three kinds of gravy. Needless to say no-one went away hungry! There were all manner of desserts as well. It was great fun to serve the food under the watchful eye of the kitchen staff who hailed from India, Bosnia and China.

After a big meal the rest of the day was free time so most retired to their rooms to Skype their loved ones back home. The good thing about being 9.5 hours ahead of Eastern Canada is that our Christmas was over before it even began back home. Some of the soldiers were able to watch their kids open presents over the web on Christmas morning. I watched a Christmas movie and called home.

Then, around 2000 hrs (8:00 pm) as I was checking e-mail, the rocket warning siren on KAF sounded. It was almost immediately followed by the sound of a rocket impact (another rocket impact was heard tonight as I write this). As I believe I have explained before the rockets launched at KAF are extremely inaccurate with the insurgent theory being that KAF is very big and the chance of hitting something important is worth the risk. My theory is they were after Don Cherry.

So Christmas was memorable and unique this year. The season crept up on me and was over in a flash. Today, Boxing Day, was just another working day here. I hope your Christmas, where ever you are, was as unique and interesting as mine - but with less rockets.

Feliz Navidad

Learning Pashto

There is a scene in David Sedaris's book "Me Talk Pretty One Day" where he describes learning French (by the way if you have not read that book, stop reading this blog, run to the bookstore, purchase it, read it, stop rolling on the floor laughing, and then come back to the blog). In the book, Sedaris describes the stages of learning a language; one in particular is called "the Angry Baby stage," in which nouns are shouted and objects pointed at "Food!" "Juice" "Ashtray." I am in a different situation having decided to use the Rosetta Stone software to learn Pashto - the language spoken in southern Afghanistan. If you have never used the Rosetta Stone method I shall describe it for you. Rather like that stern Carmelite nun who taught math in junior high, the Rosetta Stoners believe in tough love. They eschew things like translation and dictionaries, believing that one should learn a language like a baby - by associating words with objects. So the first several lessons resemble closely David Sedaris's experience but with objects seemingly randomly selected. I learned the words for car, fish, airplane, fruit cocktail, and child. No sentences, no verbs. As I progress I get to learn more complex, but equally useless phrases like: "the boy jumps," and "woman dancing." No real sentences yet, no greetings, not even "the boy jumps out of an airplane with fruit cocktail," though I think I could suss that one out.

At some point in the lessons I am waiting for the "aha' moment where I will begin to put pronouns, nouns and verbs together in practical phrases. My other source of Pashto language skills is the handbook the Forces gives everyone deploying here. And where the Rosetta Stone language is abstract and obscure, the handbook is brutally practical and probably not meant for someone like me working in a headquarters. So while I can say " Show me your ID card!" "Don't move" and "Flat on the ground," none of these phrases are conducive to a healthy office working environment, unless you work in government.

And so as I try to find a way to work the following exchange into casual conversation:
"Is that a white cat"
"No, that is not a white cat, that is a black cat"
I continue to slog through the Rosetta Stone lessons. Wish me luck.

FOB Lindsay is Wolfe Island

I have discovered why I "enjoy" living here on Forward Operating Base (FOB) Lindsay more than on KAF. It's not just that the food is better (it is) or that there is less dust (much less), but it's that FOB Lindsay is a village, just like Wolfe Island, where I live in Canada. There are other similarities too. Wolfe Island has a population of about 1500, 500 of whom live in Marysville - FOB Lindsay's population is about 600. Every day when leaving the island you must line up for the ferry, well here on the FOB we line up our HMMWVs to pass through the vehicle check point. Just like in Marysville there is one general store on FOB Lindsay and very few choices as to where to eat. You nod to your neighbours as you walk around the FOB, just as you do on the Island, and you have to go to the Post Office to pick up your mail. Also the FOB dog, Blondi, runs freely around the FOB just like the unleashed dogs of Marysville, and you have to take your own garbage to the dump.

There are even some of the same people on FOB Lindsay as you would meet on the island. There are the visitors from KAF who come for the food, just like the hordes of tourists who jam up the ferry in the summer. We have equal disdain for them here. There are the free spirits who come to the Island to escape the high cost of living in Kingston, thumb their noses at the rules and let their hair grow. On Wolfe Island they are the artists - on FOB Lindsay they are the Special Forces. On Wolfe Island during hunting season I have often been awakened in the early morning by the shotguns blasts of hunters. It is the same here on FOB Lindsay, except that the hunting season runs all year round, and the shotguns have been replaced by artillery and A-10 attack aircraft. The turkeys shoot back here too.

Finally, there are the farmers. On the Island farmers grow hay and corn, and raise cattle or bison. There is also the odd rumour that there might be a little "aromatic herb' growing out there in the fields. At FOB Lindsay it is the same, but flipped on its head. The farmers around the FOB grow opium poppies, and rumour has it that there might be a few pomegranates hidden out there in the poppy fields.

So for a Wolfe Islander FOB Lindsay is just like home, except I've got a 30 metre walk to the washroom and it's a lot hotter!

An Eid Party - and a Turkey

On the second last day of Eid-al Adha (Big Eid) our Afghan colleauges, who had been on holiday for a few days, surprised up with a little reception at our office. Eid-al-Adha is one of the major celebrations in the Muslim calendar and many people travel home to see family. It occurs one month after the end of Ramadan and commemorates God sparing Abraham's son when his father offered him as a sacrifice. People buy new clothes and have a big dinner for which a sheep is usually sacrificed. There were thousands of sheep in Kandahar City just before Eid, brought in for the feasts. We had a skeleton crew on at the Operations Centre and were expecting everyone back after the Friday holiday. We were invited into the small conference room and to our surprise quite a spread was laid out for us. There were the usual meeting nibblies: raisins, almonds, and toasted chick peas, but there were also great soft cookies that had a bird imprinted on them and what the Italians call confetti - sugar coated almonds.

We all sat down after admiring the spread, and the senior Afghan present, Colonel Juma Khan (in the blue Police uniform) told us the story of Eid. We drank gallons of unsweetend tea (no milk either) and munched appreciatively on the food. I have gotten used to drinking black tea and only using my right hand to eat in the presence of Muslims so we tried some of everything. The officers in this picture are both Colonels, Juma Khan, and Saboor Khan (he's in the Army) and they make abot $600 a month. The food they purchased is less expensive than we would pay in Canada, but it was an expense for them so we had to sample everything, and drink lots of tea. We plan on returning the hospitality with a BBQ in the near future. It is very important to reciprocate social events as it shows your appreciation in a concrete way - with food!

As I said in my Kandahar post it was a very peaceful Eid in our part of Afghanistan this year, the most peaceful in eight years. This was likely due to the major operations that occurred in the late summer and fall. Thousands of police and soldiers have been in the city providing security. Things still happen, and it's not Canada-peaceful, but there are signs that the insurgents are on the back foot.

Just after Eid, American Thanksgiving was celebrated. It was a big deal here as 80% of the troops on the ground in the South are now American, and in my group with 10th Mountain Div it's more like 90%.

The main meal was held at lunch and the cooks went all out to make it festive for the US troops. They had real turkey and stuffing and all the traditional fixings. I was in a big briefing going on at the Afghan Corps HQ (you can see me in the picture to the right of the Afghan in the leather coat). We had lunch with our Afghan hosts so I had Palau rice and meatballs for lunch - my new US Thanksgiving tradition I think! We sat at long tables and served from huge platters that were passed around. There was fresh Nan bread too, although saying Nan bread is a bit redundant as nan is the word for bread in Dari. I got back to our base around 2000 hrs that night and went to the mess for some soup and a sandwich. I was in time to catch the cooks celebrating their culinary triumph.

A Trip To Kandahar

Last week I had an opportunity to visit the Operational Coordination Centre (OCC) in Kandahar City. It is one of the provincial centres that reports events to my regional centre. Kandahar City is about 25 kms away from Kandahar Airfield so I would have to either drive or fly to make the visit. As it turns out my bosses vehicles became available so I drove. I know, I know, I said many times before I left that I would not be driving the roads, but the job's gotta get done. Also, it was during the quietest Eid-al-adha in eight years The surge of NATO forces into Kandahar City has made it very difficult for the insurgents to do anything like plant IEDs.

So I met the vehicles that were to take me to KC (like the one pictured) and we set off for the 45 minute drive to the city. It was uneventful (see!) and we drove up to the Governor's Palace where the OCC is located. The palace was renovated by Canada and is quite picturesque. It is across the street from the Mosque of the Cloak of the Prophet, where Mohammed's cloak is held as a relic. Mullah Omar took it out of storage in 1994 when the Taliban took control of Kandahar.

Once inside the grounds we attended our meetings and toured the site. At the back is an old concrete building that was Mullah Omar's operations centre during the Taliban years. It is planned to turn the space into a media centre. After lunch we headed back to Kandahar Airfield the same way we came, but not before witnessing a sheep round up. The Coalition staff at the OCC had purchased a sheep to sacrifice for the Eid holiday and enjoy a festive meal with their Afghan colleagues. No doubt sensing its imminent demise the sheep made a break for it and a merry chase round the Governor's garden ensued. Mechui, as we named the sheep, was quickly apprehended and pegged to the lawn to await the arrival of the mint sauce.

Remembrance Day in Kandahar

Remembrance Day is not a holiday in Kandahar, the war goes on regardless, but for an hour on the morning on November 11th Canadians at Kandahar Airfield paused for a ceremony at the memorial to the fallen inside the task Force compound. Some of the familiar elements of any Remembrance Day service back in Canada were present: the poppies worn on uniforms, the flags at half-mast and the piper playing Flowers of the Forest. There were new and different elements too. Not surprisingly the crowd was overwhelmingly military, though there were several civilians, some in their Tim Horton's uniforms, in the assembly. The uniforms were not the dark green service dress normally worn with medals displayed, but rather were the tan and brown mottled "digital camouflage" uniforms worn for a different purpose. Speeches were made, prayers were read by the chaplains and wreaths laid by representatives of Canada, Afghanistan and the Canadian Forces. One wreath was different - it was laid by a relative of one of the Afghanistan war dead. In recent years the government has flown a dozen or so relatives of the war dead to the service in Kandahar. They get a chance to see the sights and hear the sounds of the base as their loved on did.

Immediately prior to the service a different ceremony took place less than a kilometre distant. At that ceremony the casket bearing a young US Marine was loaded on an aircraft to begin his long and final journey home. Since I have arrived in Afghanistan three weeks ago, ten US servicemen have died on operations in the South. There could be no clearer illustration of the meaning of Remembrance Day than that simple send off on the airfield tarmac. It is true that Remembrance Day is about recalling the sacrifice of over 100,000 Canadians who died in the First and Second World Wars, I have been to the Commonwealth cemeteries around the world and walked among the thousands of headstones, but to me, from now on it will also be about that small casket of an American Marine being carried into the cargo bay of an aircraft

We will remember them.

A Day in the Life…for now.

So just what do I fill my days with here in Afghanistan. For the past few days I have been working at the Operations Coordination Centre, Region – South (OCCR-S) that is located at the Joint Regional Afghan National Police Centre (JRAC). This brand new facility will house the regional headquarters of the Afghan National Police (ANP), the Afghan Border Police (ABP), and the Afghan National Civil Order Police (ANCOP) who are sort of a cross between the French Gendarmes and the RCMP. Coordinating the activities of these three organizations with the Afghan National Army (ANA) is the role of the OCCR-S. It is manned by Afghan police and army officers and supported by a group of US and Canadian mentors. I am the senior mentor and work with the JRAC commander, a brigadier-general in the Afghan Army.


A typical day begins at 0530 hrs and after the normal personal routine the mentor team meets at FOB Lindsay at 0700 hrs to count noses and review the day’s planned activities. I say planned as there’s many a slip thwixt cup and lip, so we always build a little flexibility into our schedule. After the meeting we load into our HUMVEES and make the 6 minute drive to the JRAC. We are well within what is called the “Bubble” of security around Kandahar airfield so the trip is uneventful. On arrival at the OCCR-S we watch the morning update from Regional Command – South Headquarters (RC(S) HQ) over at Kandahar Airfield. That takes about 40 minutes after which we have about 30 minutes to prepare for our morning brief. The Afghan police and army officers provide an overview of the events of the past 24 hrs. The mentors are developing the briefing skills of the Afghan officers, but there is also a challenge in literacy. Most of the staff are fairly senior and so can read and write Dari or Pashto, but there are some who are less strong. Our predecessors established literacy classes for the Afghans, a practice we will continue. After the briefing the routine business of the day begins. Every day brings new issues from construction priorities to finding a source for whiteboards to getting the phones to work. At lunch the Afghan officers leave to eat at the Police facility while we return to FOB Lindsay for our meal. After lunch the normal routine continues interrupted by visits from police or army dignitaries or scheduled meetings. The Afghan day ends at about 1600 hrs after which the duty personnel are the only ones on site. The mentors, less the night shift crew, return to FOB Lindsay. I usually have meeting at RC(S) HQ in the afternoon or early evening. At the end of the day, or in the afternoon if I’m lucky, I get a chance to do some PT at the gym. They have a good set-up here with a cardio gym as well as a weight room. My day ends with a bit of reading, either for work or leisure, with lights out around 2200 hrs.

Two days have different schedules: Friday and Sunday. Friday is the Muslim holy day so all Afghans, except the duty staff, have the day off. We have the morning off and go to work after lunch. A similar routine is in effect on Sunday, except the Afghans are all at work. We go in as usual but RC(S) doesn’t start till later in the morning on Sundays to allow staff to attend services.

So that’s the routine here for now. I am starting to get used to being armed all the time – I carry my pistol all the time and most times I have my rifle as well. Occasionally I am lulled to sleep by the distant sound of mortar or artillery fire, and the jets taking off from Kandahar Airfield three or four kilometres away are almost background noise now.

It's the dust you notice first.

The first thing you notice when you exit the aircraft is the dust. A fine powdery dust is everywhere at Kandahar Airfield. The thousands of people and vehicles on the base generate the dust that is palpable in the air. Although I have yet to get the ability to post photos here, the first one I took on arrival shows the dust reflected in the flash of the camera. Bu first, about arriving...

We did indeed get out of Cyprus on a C-17 on 22 October. It was an uneventful 6-hour flight that got us into Kandahar at about a quarter to midnight. We unloaded our bags and were led about in the dark to our quarters. Very nice brick two-story buildings with air conditioning. I had a room mate who I attempted not to disturb. It turns out he is a British Army Airborne Signals Sergeant who was very surprised to be sharing a room with a Colonel ("that would never happen in the British Army" he remarked). A fitful sleep was followed the next morning by briefings and in-clearance. Kandahar Airfield is a big military city. There are neighborhoods: the British sector, the Canadian sector, etc. as well as dining facilities that cater to the particular eating habits of the various nationalities. So if you want pork-fried bread for breakfast, you should head for the British dining facility!

There is a certain amount of fumbling about as you clear in to the base. You have to draw your plates for the frag vest, weapons, ammunition etc. I did have time to visit Tim Hortons though. The demand for doughnuts has become so great that there is a limit to one box per customer and they stop serving them at 1100 hrs. It was a bit unreal sitting out at night with a large double-double listening to F-16s taking off.

Our group has not taken over yet so there is some waiting around to do. While waiting I have met many friends from Canada in various jobs here - it is a small Army after all. I have yet to get my wireless internet established so I am still using the internet cafes on base, once I do get the wireless I'll be able to post some pictures. That's all for now.

On my way and almost there

This is the first entry in my Afghanistan blog, but I have yet to get to Afghanistan. After a couple of weeks of farewells from family and friends I boarded the Airbus for the flight to Baden-Baden Germany. We had been told that we would spend one night there before heading on to Dubai and then Kandahar. As it turned out, none of that happened. One thing you learn after 30 years in the military is patience. Our stay in Baden-Baden was extended by a day. The extra day allowed a few of us to take a side trip to Strasbourg in France. I have never been there and the charms of Baden-Baden soon pale if you are not very rich and keen on either spas or casinos. So a train trip to France was organized and three of our group set off. Strasbourg is a beautiful city that hasn’t quite sorted out if it’s German or French. There is a lot of German architecture and good beer (it is the home of Kronenbourg – one of the two biggest brewery businesses in France) yet everyone speaks French. We walked around town for several hours and toured the cathedral. We also had a taste of street democracy as we stumbled upon a protest against the pension reforms proposed by President Sarkozy. Our suspicions were raised by the groups of policemen in riot gear we began to see massing in the side streets. While in the town museum we heard the crowd march by on its way to one of the main squares in Strasbourg – Place Kleber. It was a very peaceful crowd with none of the violence you may have seen on the TV news – a tribute, I believe to the orderly Germanic nature of the average Strasbougeoisie. After the demonstration we headed for the train station where the impact of the other part of the day’s protest was felt. The national rail system in France was on strike. The SNCF was running a t about 50% capacity and we joined the throngs of commuters waiting to see if their trains would run. It turns out our train, booked on a German line, would depart on schedule so we had time to watch the spectacle of the French police blowing up an abandoned bag in the train station. It all happened very non-chalantly as the police moved people back about 2 minutes before the detonation. A smallish boom then rang out and five minutes later all were on their way. Two things struck me: the first was that if the same event had happened at Union Station in Toronto the entire city would have shut down. The second was that it was odd that my first IED was in France! (Although the package turned out to be a bunch of clothes and some baguettes).

We departed Baden-Baden in the morning and received news that the recent diplomatic kerfuffle between the UAE and Canada would impact our itinerary. It appears that our scheduled stop at Camp Mirage in the UAE would be cancelled and we would be disembarking in Cyprus. Originally we were supposed to stop there and drop a few passengers. Now the plan was for us all to stay in Cyprus until a flight could be arranged directly into Kandahar. Another thing you learn in military is flexibility. So we were booked into a hotel in Paphos for two nights and possibly more. This hotel is normally used as the decompression site for our soldiers returning from Afghanistan. They get counselling and get to talk about their experiences with their peers before returning home. It has shown to help reduce the incidence of post-traumatic stress disorder. We, on the way in, had merely to wait. The Hotel Azia is a very nice spot. Very popular with British and Scandinavian tourists it was relatively empty when we arrived. I searched my memory for any words of Greek that I might know to speak to the waiter at our restaurant. Turns out the only one I could recall was “expelliamus” which I proceeded to use to greet our server loudly. After several attempts at communication one of the British tourists seated nearby reminded me that “expelliamus” is actually from the Harry Potter books. After a great meal of swordfish and Cypriot beer we toddled off to bed.

The next day, as we waited for news from Canada, Kandahar, or the airport, we got a chance to relax at this very nice resort hotel. A morning run along the waterfront was followed by a lazy afternoon reading by the pool. I am halfway through the “Girls with the…” trilogy. Late this afternoon we learned that we will fly out tomorrow as the C-17 is on its way to Cyprus.

If all this sounds a little less like “Dave goes to War” and more like “Dave is on another holiday in Europe” it feels that way for me too. I can’t imagine the Canadian troops on their way to the Second World War stopping off for two days on the beach. The break was appreciated, however, as that last few days before departure are stressful. It also is a good way to get over jet-lag: to get over an 8.5 hour time difference, just take 5 days to get there!

With any luck and the good offices of the Canadian Air Force, my next entry will be from Afghanistan. Yassas!