"Kandahar Chronicles is the ongoing story of the day-to-day life of an MSF (Médecins Sans Frontières) Field Logistician based in Kandahar Afghanistan. You can email the author your questions and comments here: carlos@citizenlab.org

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02/23/2004: "Kandahar Chronicles #74 - 21/02/2004"

I'll never drink again. Most of the NGO expat community was over last night for my goodbye bash and I didn't get to sleep until three a.m. We had organized loads of food, drinks and the barbeque from ICRC. We set up the cushions in the centre of the house compound, spread a few candles around and evrybody settled in while I ran the grill. Marinated chicken and steaks like hockey pucks. There were about fifteen people all together from Italy, UK, Serbia, Bosnia, Germany, Canada, Nepal, USA, Norway, Sweden, Holland and Switzerland. It was nice and relaxing, not the usual MSF dance scene we were famous for in the past. However, this being Kandahar, curfew crept up and people started to drift off in twos and threes. Email addresses were swapped, promises made to stay in touch, "Take care, this place will get crazy again. Who knows, the aid world is a small one, we'll probably meet in some other dusty war zone." Then they were gone. After months of working in deserts, exchanging theories about window shaking explosions and sharing cool drinks, another Kandahar chapter has closed.

That left the five of us, an equal number of well fed cats and a mess of tins and over flowing ashtrays. I knew I would be washing all the dishes the next day so I just sat jamming on the guitar with Hamil. He's written some nice songs during his time here while my attempt, American Taliban and a joint venture, Yellow Desert, need more work. Tins crushed into boxes, bones crunched and forgotten, a cold barbeque and soon it was just the two of us left. We talked until it was too cold to stay outside and then went off to our beds. I had a smoke on the roof and was treated to a series of distant blasts coming from the base. This was predictably followed by the symphany of dogs. Dogs are another familiar sound here but unlike other cities they are rarely seen. Disembodied howls puntuated by the echoed crack of high explosive. In another hour or so the Mullahs would call the first prayer of the day, but I would miss it.

Replies: 1 Comment

you done good....

asfandyar said @ 02/24/2004 01:16 AM EST

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