ARRIVAL

The 747 touched down at 4:15 AM, January 1, 1977. It was eerie. This was a landlocked country, and I felt like I had just been locked in. All volunteers would stay at various houses the first night. We didn't know where or with whom. I ended up with Jonathan and Michael. Both were a little younger than myself. Jon was handsome, had longish hair, smoked Marlboro reds, and played quitar. Michael wore glasses and was business-like. Both had a good sense of humor.

I had not eaten red meat or even chicken for about a year, but this first night in Kabul ended that. I ate chicken. Then I ate some spinach and I got an even bigger surprise. I chomped down on a hard object with my new gold bridge/crown that had cost me about a thousand dollars.

I spit out the large pebble. I yelled at the servant who was our cook this first night, and with the Farsi that I had learned in D.C., I asked, "What is this called in Farsi?" The trembling Afghan said "sang". "O.K. No more sang!", I said. He nodded heavily a few times that he understood. Strange, but I had never liked spinach until I lived in Afghanistan and ate their ghee-laden spinach. The Afghan ghee is made from the lamb's tail!