The Kabul Arrival

The cockpit had announced two minutes until landing. As if rehearsed, fingers cross in domino fashion and heads pivoted from side to side gauging the distance from the end of the wings to the mountain’s edge. The 360° view was stunning...snow-capped mountains with glacier fed streams carving through the lower dry and barren ranges.
A sigh of relief…we have landed in Kabul.

We were shuffled through customs by a vivacious, scrawny Afghan who took immediately to Dasha, my fellow colleague, as they fluttered away in Russian. With papers waving, suitcases flying, and passports angrily shoved back following approval we made our way to the roadside. Military trucks streamed by, apparently escorting an esteemed Afghan political figure, and we were once again delayed. Two gates more, and countless gusts of dusts, we were pleasantly greeted by Zia, our driver to the compound.

The cross-section of jet-lag and disbelief creates a bit of a murk on memory. Consequently, recalling my first hours in Kabul parallels that of viewing dusty, old, slide reels. Somewhere along the reel is a carpet store on Chicken Street. Others in the compound had some last minute shopping to do, so for a bit of Kabul-orientation I joined the outing. The hospitality was overflowing, evidenced by green tea, raisons, and nuts quickly catered to our carpet-viewing chair. (As a security aside, we only visit markets which ANSO (Afghanistan NGO Safety Office) deems safe for foreigners.)

Five carpets and ten scarves later, we made our way back into our compound-bound vehicle to be greeted by a courtyard biriyani dinner with members of the Ministry of Health. Though the conversations remain recalled like reels, many mentioned the days of the Taliban, and consequently their relatively extended stint in Pakistan.

Exhausted, and yet thrilled, thus finished my first day in Kabul.