A voice came over the loudspeaker and spoke in Dahri, or some other language, for what seemed to be an eternity, then in English “Welcome to Kabul and Good Luck”. That phrase summed up everything I had been told to expect. It was November 17th 2006 as our plane descended into the Afghan valley. The airport seemed to be a reflection of the country, a worn down building with luggage conveyor belts that didn’t work, men trying to help you with your bags for a dollar, and children trying to sell you something.

We met our contacts, hopped into the SUV’s, and made our way through the city. As we drove we noticed so many buildings that had been riddled with bullets and large artillery. We asked the obvious question,” Did we (Americans) do that?” “No, neither did the Russians. They did it to themselves in the time between the Russian withdrawal and the rise of the Taliban.” We continued down dilapidated roads along dried out river beds passing along our way caravans of carts and Afghan people walking along the roadside. (more…)