While other foreigners remained cloistered in their compounds — some wistfully so, restricted by the rigid precautions of their employers — my new friends didn’t find Afghanistan intrinsically scary. They were dismayed by the increased wreckage, poverty and violence, but not afraid of the people. One night, when it seemed that every man in the city was on the dusty streets to shop the brightly lighted stalls, we had a flat tire. The tire blew out next to a stand selling watermelons, the hacked-open fruit red and glistening in the headlights. Crowds of curious men stopped to stare. I was certain we’d meet our death that night. My friends were just as certain that it was no big deal.
Later there were two terrible bombings, including one of a bus filled with young police recruits that killed at least 24 people. Some of the dead were civilians, but many were brave young men willing to defend the public order for the princely sum of about $70 per month. It was after that bombing that I decided to cut my visit short and made plans to go home.
http://newageislam.com/watching-tv-in-kabul/islamic-society/d/267
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10:54 PM
Moderate Islamist here
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