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09/26/2003: "Kandahar Chronicles #16 - 24/09/2003"

An opportunity for a night out is always welcome and despite the circumstances tonight was no different. My Log Assistant came into my office giggling something about our night driver, a land cruiser and a photocopy shop. It took a while for him to compose himself but then I got the story. Apparently, after making some copies for the medical department near a central roundabout in town, our driver emerged from the shop to find a couple armed police loitering around his vehicle. He was parked in a very recently established and unmarked no parking zone. They demanded that one of the police ride with him to the police station. He agreed to this as long as the cop left his rifle with his partner as no weapons are allowed inside our vehicles. So, after much discussion off they went. On route he called Jaweed on the VHF and so it came to me.



I set off, with Jaweed behind the wheel, through the dusty chaos of Kandahar at night. He swerved through traffic with a combination of blind faith and absolute indifference and we arrived at the central police station. I jumped out and strolled in past the somewhat curious looking guards who didn’t seem to know whether to challenge me or shake my hand. I got through and caught the attention of an older man well dressed in what looked like an expensive Saville Road suit. Armed and uniformed police gave me a quick scan as I shook his hand. He asked if he could help so I explained who we were and what we did and that our Toyota ambulance was needed the next morning. Bit of a fib. He promptly ordered one of the uniforms to bring a pen and paper and scribbled something furiously in right to left Pashtu script.

Thanking him and armed with the mystery note I found Jaweed outside the gate and we headed to the far side of town to the traffic police HQ. Another fifteen minutes of near misses and conversation about his day and we found the night driver, Mr Omer, eating freshly roasted corn beside an old Baba outside the front gates. He gave us the quick run down and in we went. We were taken to a man sitting cross legged outside on a carpet and offered a Pepsi. He was obviously important as well judging by the amount of Kalashnikov armed toughs that hovered around him. I showed him the note and the effect was instant. He hollered at a wiry youth who ran off into the night and offered me a chai as well. With Jaweed translating we chatted about radios and how cold the Pepsi was until a flustered man with an enormous grey beard came in. It turned out he was the chief of the traffic division. He grew noticeably anxious when he read the note and sent an underling off to bring the night driver who was watching the other cruiser.

Two senior officials sweating over a parking ticket, not bad. I was starting to get curious about the contents of the note. There had been no mentions of bribes or delaying tactics in this whole operation. I could see he was uncomfortable and to help him save face was very apologetic about the whole thing. He pulled himself together and with his best schoolmaster tone informed me that I would have to write a letter to the department promising my drivers would not park outside the photocopy shop again. Odd but no problem. I asked for note as I thanked both senior men but the bearded chap shook his head with disapproval at such a request and pocketed it. Well, at least we were free to go without any dramas. I asked Jaweed, between clutching the dashboard and pressing my feet through the carpet, if he knew the well dressed man. He didn’t he said, but it was often men like that which make things happen in the Aghanistan.