Read The Afghan Queen: A True Story of an American Woman in Afghanistan Online
Authors: Paul Meinhardt
The Afghan Queen: A True Story of an American Woman in Afghanistan (30 page)
Not that any of this was any great surprise. I had learned that we were all part of the great game of trading information. Sometimes I thought that all the merchants, traders, business, and embassy people are in the great game first, and other pursuits second.
On one of our road trips with Kim, she spoke openly of the great game, adding, “We might as well be open about it. That’s why we’re really here. All we want is information. Is there oil or not? And, does it really matter?
“I mean, really do you think our leaders care more about oil or just maintaining the power balance? I believe the balance of power, equilibrium, and global stability are their primary concerns. What do you think?”
At that, Kit burst out laughing, “OK, there’s no denying that, but we are truly friends also. We like each other and there is much information we can safely share. Kim, you’re absolutely right. Global stability is what everyone wants.”
After a few days, I registered Kirk at the American School. Here also he was popular and loved it. The students were mostly embassy kids, but there were some other European and Afghan children also. I was delighted, since he had had a difficult time socializing back in the States. I was thinking that perhaps he should remain in Kabul, but then again, I didn’t believe that would work in the long run.
Early one morning a lovely woman American Embassy staffer took Kirk horseback riding. He met me for breakfast and then dragged me to an American Embassy students’ league baseball game. While Noor and I spoke with some of the embassy people, Kirk talked to the embassy kids, especially the young ‘lovelies’ from the American school.
My son was enjoying his popularity among the American School students, especially the girls. He took his guitar with him much of the time and was delighted to play when asked. Guitar music seemed a common language among all the people we encountered. Something about the way Kirk played
Blackbird
made that song a particular favorite.
This was baseball season, but they played basketball, soccer which they called
football
, and also cricket, a favorite with British Commonwealth people such as the Australians, Indians, and Pakistanis. Of course
football
was the great international favorite.
Kirk brought me over to meet some of his classmates. I was mostly interested in what they were wearing. The common fashion seemed to be jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. This seemed to be the extent of American fashion influence throughout the Middle East. They favored the heavy Afghan socks and hats, and the socks were worn especially for protection when playing
football.
After the baseball game, some of the girls took Kirk to an American “Teen-center.” They spent time there dancing, singing, practicing plays for school and playing games, mostly ping-pong. One of the girls Kirk got friendly with was captain of a
football
team, that had won a game that day, so she was the center of attention along with Kirk and his guitar.
The American school and all schools in Kabul hold class from Sunday to Thursday, with Friday and Saturday off. Since Friday is the Muslim Sabbath and Sunday has been kind of a “downer” day, the Muslim school week works well for us.
The American kids favor
football
and few like cricket. They say it’s too slow, complicated and boring. I asked if there was any interest in American football, but there was little interest among the kids. They did say that the American Embassy staffers sometimes played touch football, but not often.
Strolling through a nearby bazaar, we found an embroidery stall, with beautiful embroidered silk hangings and cloth. I purchased some of these along with turquoise and lapis beads.
Kirk complained about carrying my purchases and began nagging: “Why do I have to tag along with you?” I explained repeatedly that if he wants a career in this business, he must pay attention to what I buy and what to look for.
I keep explaining that I want him to have fun, and he does every day, but he must spend time learning my business as the basis for any enterprise he might develop later on. On the whole, he’s been pretty good about all this—that is to say he has some genuine interest in my business. But occasionally he gets cranky when I’m too demanding. I think that’s normal.
Kirk spent much of his spare time hanging out at the Teen Center when not with me and my business group. He was happy with his popularity with the girls and even some of the guys. “It’s my guitar playing they like the most, I think, but when we talk they ask lots of questions, some about my family and relatives, but mostly about you, Mom.”
THE GREAT GAME - FALL, 1979
Our little group drove to Istalif, an ancient town about 20 miles northwest of Kabul. It’s famous for its glazed pottery and this is what we came to see. Mike and his wife were visiting family as they were both from this town.
Mike’s family had business interests in Istalif pottery and wanted me to see if any of the small decorative pottery would appeal to my clientele. The smaller blue turquoise ceramics were definitely appealing. While the cost was reasonable, shipping was my main concern, and it was difficult to visualize these lovely ceramics arriving intact.
They showed me the Styrofoam form fit packing, and I ordered a dozen pieces to see the initial reception in the States. I picked out some bowls and pitchers. They paid for special handling, insurance, and shipping. Seeing the shipping-labeling arrangements made me think that this could work, but we would see.
Istalif ceramics
Thinking that the turquoise ceramics would be an attractive addition to my displays and shows, I was less concerned about selling them than displaying them. In any case, I believed the museums would find that the ceramics added a fine touch to their Islamic art exhibits.
Mike arranged for a dinner at his cousin’s here in Istalif. He said that Kit and Kim would also be at the dinner. This did not surprise me in the least. Those two “observers” have been like ‘white on rice,’ studying the Afghans, the health clinics, foreign visitors, but mostly each other.
This is my first experience with professional “observers.” Like me, they constantly take copious notes and photos. Gathering information is what we are all about. Admittedly, I have a journalist inclination, perhaps newspaper and magazine articles, even a book.
Mainly I gather information for my business, buying and selling, making friends in both business-family and political circles. Speaking of which, I’ve gotten quite friendly with the Australian nurse and the Chinese U.N. observer.
So we all gather information, I for business and my two women friends are constantly sniffing around for information concerning what? Well it’s best we don’t go there again. While my time in Afghanistan is purely business, I’m also part of the ‘Great Game,’ there’s no avoiding it.
The Great Game is all about information. We gather it, trade it, buy it and sell it. Even my son at the American school, at the teen-center, at embassy recreations, at film and information centers; even teens chasing each other; it’s all part of the Great Game. In my years in Afghanistan I have never heard the words “spook” or “spy” used.
Today my son returned from the American information center after seeing a Disney film. He experienced the disappointment of seeing a girl he liked go off with her boyfriend.
Kirk returned to the hotel to help Noor paint a huge sign. The sign has a large picture of Neptune with a trident and in English: “Neptune’s Inn, Food, Lodging, Water Beds and Garden.”
Neptune’s Inn is almost complete, except for installing six more water beds. Kirk’s first installation filled a water bed with water before setting an electric heating pad under it. Now he follows a checklist before each step and all the water beds are properly installed.
The huge sign had to be completely redone as human depictions such as Neptune are discouraged by Islamic custom. Noor’s two hajji uncles advised him to redo the sign without Neptune. My wise-ass son remarked that Neptune is not human, but a god.
The hajjis laughed good-naturedly and hugged Kirk saying, “There is but one God and that is Allah, and Mohammed is His messenger, blessed be his name.” Remarkably, my son was respectful and thanked the hajjis for the lesson. Often he’s snotty about such things, but I warned him repeatedly to show the greatest respect for anything to do with Islam.
Now the sign has a large trident with, “Neptune’s Inn, Good Food, Lodging, Water Beds, Camping, Garden and Parking.” It took Kirk and five guys to lift the sign to an eight-foot high platform above the hotel entrance.
My son wrote something in his journal that he wants to share with the world:
Chicken Street is a long market place with lots of shops along the way, sort of a bazaar really. When Mom checked-out the copper-ware, brass pots, clothing, carpets and other things of interest, she thought the prices were too costly, maybe that’s why the crowds are at the bazaars and not on Chicken Street.
Most tourists were scared of Kabul when the fighting, really just a small riot, was in Mazar-a-Sharif, a few hundred kilometers away. That’s starting to affect business in Kabul. Now the government is dividing the huge estates among poor farmers. Mom says, “It’s about time.”
TV is only a year old and the picture is piss-poor. All they show on TV is news in Pashtun which I can’t understand. Lately there’s ear-splitting music from East Gabib, wherever the hell that is. I keep asking people where is East Gabib, but no one seems to know.
The TV was blaring in the lobby when I came down for breakfast and I made a bee-line for the café. Mom and another woman were sipping coffee when I joined them. Mom introduced me to Rosy as I stood by the table. Rosy, all beautiful six feet six of her, stood to shake hands. I felt like a midget next to her.
“Your mom and I were in high school together. I’m now on the American Embassy staff, to advertise American women’s basketball, I think. But not really, I’m officially the Cultural Attaché,” said Rosy.
We sat down and I ordered breakfast. I asked, “Excuse me for asking, but what does a cultural attaché do?” She replied, “These days I’m supposed to keep an eye on your mother and you, to keep you out of trouble.” We all burst out laughing.
Rosy continued, “Seriously, my field of study is Middle East tribal art and I’m employed to implement U.S. support for Afghan tribal art, that is, when I’m not shooting baskets. By the way we have a basketball game at eleven and need a tenth player. Lela volunteered you. If you’re willing I’ll buy you lunch at the embassy and introduce you to some cute girls, what do you say?”
Well, that was an offer I couldn’t refuse and it turned out to be one of my best days in Kabul.
I wrote Paul an air-gram about these events. I emphasized my part in the Great Game and asked him what he thought of all this. Ten days later I got a wordy air-gram from Paul. His writing philosophy is ‘Why use one sentence when a paragraph will serve?’ It was so wonderful and tediously typical of him that I am compelled to include the full text:
My dearest love, my morning and evening star, I miss you so much, my right hand aches, and I have many wonderful dreams in which you have a starring role.
Your information about the Great Game is more significant than you may realize, at least to me. It relates to my interest in ‘energy transfer systems.’ Some researchers actually use that term, the Great Game, in reference to cosmic information transfer.
The Great Cosmic Game refers to the perpetual recycling of all energy-code-information in the Cosmos. Many in the scientific community believe that the Cosmos consists of energy in a multitude of geometries and forms.
I suggest that when your group plays the Great Game, you exchange energy in the form of information. People can’t help it. We are programed, by our genetic code, to transmit-exchange-transfer energy-information as spoken words, facial expressions, body gestures, written text, pictures, music—all of which are forms of electromagnetic vibrations, radiating waves of energy.
My favorite energy source is a woman’s smile, especially yours. When you smile at me, I experience a surge of energy coursing through my mind and body. I believe photons of light from your eyes to mine switch on nerve impulses and hormones, providing a surge of energy, sexual and otherwise.
The Great Cosmic Game is how we participate in Mother Nature’s energy game. While you folks confine your understanding to a quest for the hidden knowledge underlying business and political action, you are, in fact, playing the Great Cosmic Game.
We are all players and essential parts in the cosmic energy game. In the Information sciences, words such as: energy, code, data, information, knowledge, intelligence and program are all forms of energy. Quite literally, knowledge is power or energy.
All forms of energy contain an underlying code or program, something like a computer program. It is written, “In the beginning was the word,” suggesting that in the beginning was the code, the program. I believe that all forms of energy possess an underlying code.
The Cosmos seems to have an underlying geometric “curvature” code. The Earth “spins” on its axis, “revolves” around the sun in an “elliptical” “orbit.” Our solar system makes an elliptical “circuit” “around” our “spiral” Milky Way galaxy. Our galaxy does a circuit around our system of galaxies, which in turn circuits the Cosmos.
I placed quotation marks around words indicating cosmic geometry. The fact that most galaxies are “spiral” and “hexagonal,” “pentagonal,” geometries is part of our genetic double “helix” DNA—all of which underlie our human star shape.
Is it an accident that the human body has two arms, two legs and a head, five appendages, and there are five digits on our arms and legs, as well as five sense organs on our head, two ears, two eyes and one mouth-nose for taste-smell?
Wheels are nested within “wheels,” ellipses are networked within “ellipses.” There is a basic code at the root of all these energy systems. All curved energy motion begins with Pi, the circumference of a “circle” divided by its diameter. But many other codes are involved such as Phi the Golden Ratio for “spirals” and most all cosmic energy geometry.
The human body is a massive assembly of 100 trillion cells. Each cell contains about 25,000 genes. Each gene is a set of chemical codes, programs for transferring energy between and within cells. Within all the cells are chemical molecules and atoms. Within atoms are subatomic particles, such as electrons, protons, neutrons and quarks.
All these energy geometries are in perpetual “curved” motion, because curved motion accelerates-speeds particles, renewing its energy, like a car wheel revolving to renew battery energy. Giving rise to subatomic particles are energy “strings” that are so small it would take a trillion-trilliontrillion strings to measure one meter.
It is said that “Life begins on the sun.” And, for people who can see no further than the sun, this is true. But, radio telescopes in orbit will “see” much of the Cosmos. Formations of energy will be found that also play the Great Cosmic Game.