EDUCATIONAL DISCIPLINE

We volunteers were required to make a visit to a provincial Afghan school. My visit was to a school in Jalalabad. Jalalabad was where fruit trees grew. It was an oasis only 3 hours from Kabul. The bus ride on the high, tortuous and narrow mountain road was frightening. I was happy when the bus stopped for prayers.

At the school in Jalalabad I walked into a crowded classroom. There were a few long benches and one blackboard. I was waiting for some instruction to begin. It was very quiet. Suddenly, the classroom emptied. I followed the crowd of students to the center of the schoolyard. A crowd of students surrounded one boy. Another student began hitting this boy on the back with a branch. It lasted for less than a minute, then the crowd returned to the classroom. I asked what had just transpired, and was told that the student had spoken in class. I had not heard anyone, but apparently the teacher had. Discipline!

While walking in Jalalabad I met a great-grandson of a famous Afghan governor. This great-grandson invited me to his house for tea. On our way to his house a child was crossing the road. The great-grandson tried to avoid hitting the child, but didn't. He accelerated when I protested that he had just hit a child. I looked back, and saw that the child had gotten up from the ground, apparently only grazed by the contact. The great-grandson pointed out that the child was not badly injured, and that if he had stopped he would have been in serious trouble. When we arrived at his house, he opened two large metal doors, and drove the Volkswagen beetle inside.

It was a very large estate, the largest I had ever seen while in Kabul. It had lush foliage and many fruit trees.

Tea was brought. After tea, the great-grandson brought out a huge kite in the shape of an American eagle, and he got it aloft in no time. He pointed out the "glass" string. He said proudly that his kite had never lost. I watched as the eagle flew higher and higher into the sky. Another kite was flying nearby. The great-grandson said, "Watch this". He quickly moved the string on his American eagle, and then he deftly sliced the string on the other kite. He still had never lost.

THE HOLE

One winter evening I walked out to my backyard to take out my trash. The ground was covered with snow and I had forgotten about THE HOLE. THE HOLE was over a cess pool to my house. All the human waste from my house (and wherever...and WHENEVER...else) had accumulated in THE HOLE. The liquid was now at ground level. As I took a step over THE HOLE my left leg went in. With my right leg, I was able to hop out just in time. My left Italian hiking boot had gotten totally immersed. I quickly returned to my house and took off the boot. I began pouring pinesol over it, and I kept imagining what might have been if I had stepped with both feet into THE HOLE. It was not a pleasant thought. I started a fire, became warm and cozy, and forgot about THE HOLE experience.

THE CAR CHASE

I hired a taxi to take me to a Thanksgiving party. I thought it was in Kart-e-Char, the part of Kabul where I first lived, and close to the University of Kabul.

I usually rode my bicycle to get to Kabul University, and I got around fine, but at night I was totally lost.

My taxi driver had been driving for about five minutes. I told him to stop at one particular house and I would ask for directions. I saw a large American car in the garage, and I hoped that Americans lived in the house, but before I could find out I had to pay my taxi driver. He wanted more than we had agreed on, and so I paid a higher amount. But he wanted even more afghanis. I told him to forget it, and I walked to the house and knocked. A man (an American!) greeted me and asked what I needed. I told him my problem. He said, "Don't worry about him, just come with us. We're on our way to the movies." His wife and son were walking down the stairs, joined by a friend of the family, a minister.

The husband directed me through a door and into the garage, and told me to get into the large car. We were on our way, but so was the taxi driver, right on our tail. Finally, we stopped and paid the taxi driver even more afghanis, but it was still not enough for the taxi driver! The husband sped off, and the taxi driver followed. It was now a car chase.

The minister in the back seat was praying. The little boy said, “This is just like in the movies." I was getting nervous. I was sorry that I had gotten an innocent family involved.

We finally arrived back in Shar-i-Naw where I lived. The big car stopped in front of the United States Information Service building where the movie was being shown. I told my friends that I would get out before they parked and handle the situation. I thanked them, apologized, and got out of their large luxury car.

The taxi driver stopped his car and got out. He started yelling at me, and I said in Farsi that he was crazy. This was the wrong thing to say. Before I knew it he was running after me.

I had on oversized Italian hiking boots and my usual three or four pairs of socks on. I kept just ahead of the taxi driver, turned a corner, and ducked into the entrance of a German restaurant that was on the third floor. I ran up the stairs and into the restaurant.

I sat down. I waited. For about five minutes I kept my eyes glued to the curtained entrance door. Ten minutes. Nobody entered. I bought some cigarettes. I started smoking again. I had quit two weeks earlier. As I was lighting up I knocked over the salt shaker when a couple entered. But it was not the taxi driver. He apparently had given up on finding me.

I stayed in the restaurant for two hours. I finally mustered up the mettle to leave. I cautiously looked up and down the streets, and found another taxi driver. This time I knew exactly where I was going: to my own house. I got out of the taxi a few blocks away from my house, and lo-and-behold, I walked right into the Thanksgiving party. I stayed long enough to tell a couple playing pool what had just happened. I wanted to go home and relax.

THE WEDDING

At the wedding banquet people stood or sat along the walls of a large room. People just stared at the food on a table that was at least thirty feet in length. Touryalai warned me that he would walk over to get a plate of food for me. At some given signal (I don't know to this day what that signal was), people ran to the table and grabbed for their food. It was a frightening and mad dash that looked like a brawl. Touryalai returned to me, smiling, holding out my plate of food and said, "Now you know why I went to get your food."

MY LIFE AS AN ACTOR

Jon and I decided to become actors for a short while. 

 I was performing the part of Francisco in Shakespeare's The Tempest.

 I forget now who Jon was.

 The Peace Corps Director, Mr. Baldino, was in it too. 

 We practiced on the grounds of the British Embassy with some very good actors from England and France, and we rehearsed only for a short time.

 But it was fun.

 I felt like a real actor.

 I remember one night we had dinner, followed by desert, coffee, and cocktails. 

 This was the life!

The evening of our play performance we were asked to lay off the liquor, but I was so nervous that I kept tippling the bottle, and before I knew it I had imbibed one bottle of wine and half a bottle of Sherry.

I was very tipsy.

It was, after all, a drowning scene. 

My fifteen seconds of fame had arrived, and I elocuted (or executed!) my lines on the outdoor concrete stage, then quickly exited. 

But on my way through the archway my right hand clipped a standing and burning torch, and the burning torch was now falling to the ground. 

I caught it just in time!

I could have ruined the whole production and my entire career as an aspiring actor.