By now I was pickled and more than a little bloated. I had eaten my fill and now felt ‘fat and happy’, which is an old saying of a great friend of mine, Geoff Long, from my home town of Frankston, Victoria. However, the time was now around 6.45 pm and it was very dark outside. The plates and the uneaten morsels of food were removed by the ‘scary men’ acting as waiters and we all smiled at each other contentedly. The talk now was only in Dari and as I didn’t understand it at this time, it was a bit boring and I was feeling somewhat sleepy, though I needed a wee. I asked for the toilet and was duly shown the outside. Toilets are nightmares in Afghanistan as anyone who has travelled deep into the outback areas of similar countries can attest. The stench and the practice of squatting is not something I have ever gotten used to, even though I have served in similar conditions for many years and continue to do so. But, I ventured into the WC and was at least successful, if not comfortable.
After my little ‘toilet adventure’, I thought I’d have a quick walk around the compound to help let my stomach settle and perhaps work off a few of those first 5,000 or so calories. As I walked down beside the river that I had heard clearly from the main building, it was dark and I realised the compound had no eastern walls, or perimeter fencing, for the most of it, as the river made this boundary itself. I guess after 15 minutes by myself, two armed men quickly came out of the darkness and startled me. They came up quickly in the darkness and began talking rapidly to me in Pashto as neither of them spoke English. They were guards for the compound and kept indicating for me, through gruff sign language, to go back to the main building. I kind of took this as being a bit overzealous, but as they seemed quite agitated, I duly walked back with them. At the main rear door, Kefayatullah and one of his men were standing and looking out towards me as I returned into the light of the porch. Kefayatullah appeared somewhat nervous and told me quietly and off to the side that I had to stay indoors. Once inside I asked him why, and he explained that there were a significant number of Salafists in this village area and more close by. As you may be aware, Salafists are known to be highly fanatical and religiously intolerant groups of people, often from outside Afghanistan. They had been responsible for the killings of many internationals in the past two or three years. On that note from Kefayatullah, I very well stayed indoors!
By now I was starting to feel tired and sleepy, as again we all sat in the central dining area on the floor. I was almost ready to ask where I would be sleeping, when in came the scary looking guys again, together with more plates of chicken, rice, salad, fruit, goat meat and more rice. “Ummm, what’s going on,” I asked with some in trepidation and the simple answer from Kefayatullah was, “Dinner!” Unbeknownst to me the earlier feast I had gorged upon was the belated lunch and now, only about two hours later, we were expected to eat again. I told Kefayatullah that I was totally full and couldn’t eat another thing. But once he explained the rituals of local custom, I was somewhat forced to sit back down and again eat. To be honest, I did remember Kefayatullah telling me before we ate ‘not to fill myself up too much’ (sic), but I obviously hadn’t listened. So now I had to feign hunger as my stomach was almost ready to burst. I did eat a little bit of meat and a little bit of salad to be polite, but no bread or rice could again enter my mouth. Of course, others at the dinner kept encouraging me to eat and I had to bluff my way through the affair. What an effort! Then, after these plates and trays had almost been cleared and the chai was being served, I realised that I had to take another serious look inside the fearsome toilet. My stomach was overextended and I needed to release its burden. Oh dear, it was not a happy time out there is the putrid, dark and cold toilet. My stomach ached from the over-consumption and I started to feel quite ill. But, eventually I made it back after several deep rumbling and echoing burps … and a lot more.
Back inside the main building I was soon shown my bedroom for the night and nobody seemed to notice, or be interested in my rock hard and swollen tummy. With very little delay I soon stripped down and lumbered into bed. My first thoughts were of a very difficult night of potential stomach problems, though the excitement of actually being inside Afghanistan and now fundamentally on my own as an Australian Army officer, quickly absorbed my mind and soon I had drifted off to sleep.
Surprisingly, that night I actually had a blissful sleep. I’m not a good sleeper at any time and with a gooey tummy, I was sure I would be up half the night visiting that horrible toilet. But not so, and in fact I had a great sleep, wrapped in a Persian blanket on a thick bed of carpets, on the floor in a small room by myself. Most of the others were in the larger rooms collectively where the snoring was dreadful, although no-one seemed to mind.
I woke up early the following morning, at 5 am or so, thankfully feeling good in the stomach. After a broad stretch and a yawn, followed by a brisk walk outside to clean my face and scrub my teeth in the river nearby, it was inside for yet another feed - this time on eggs, rice, bread and more rice.
I guess you’re now starting to see, like I was, that the Afghans eat mainly rice. Well, when they can, they do. But the giant flat bread, naan, and black chai are really the primary ingredients when items are short. I’ll admit I can live on tea and naan and almost did too, many months later, which is described in another chapter to come.
ooOoo
The rest of the mission went fine, and I was always thinking I must have looked like a small child running through a toy shop as I was completely overwhelmed by the sight of all this mostly functional military equipment and machinery. The trip was also inter-dispersed with several interesting moments, like when I was asked to fire the AK-47 rifle by one of our local guards. These types of events became quite common during my following five years in the country. It often started with me innocently asking questions about the weapons hardiness and how often they needed to clean them, etc., as in the army we were always told that the AK-47, often referred to as the Kalashnikov rifle, was an extremely resilient weapon and needed very little care. Well, that certainly was true and continues even today. The AK-47 and the huge variety of copies that are manufactured around the world continue to be the working man’s choice of firearm for combat. You can own an AK-47 for twenty years and never really need to pull it apart and clean it. Firing the beast basically clears out any dust, or rust, and the silly thing just keeps firing. Born out of the early 1950s and designed by Mikhail Kalashnikov, hence the name of the weapon and the initials (i.e. Avtomat Kalashnikova), it has become the most popular rifle in conflict. It is extremely cheap to manufacture, because of its simplicity in materials and design, and requires very little training to fire. With an effective range of over 300 metres due to its basic iron sights, it is also short in length and therefore effective for urban terrain fighting. Although much heavier than modern combat rifles and not generally suited to fixing electro-imaging sights and bright torch lights and other accessories, for the basic fighter, it remains highly effective. So, when asked to fire the Kalashnikov, I eagerly accepted and shot many rounds at nearby trees, large boulders and other objects. The local guards all watched me intently as they thought I’d have no idea about firearms. It was my army training that had taught me to receive the weapon, check safety was on, take of the magazine, cock the weapon to expel any rounds from the chamber, then release the working parts, replace the magazine, cock the weapon, set the firing distance on the sights and then check the backdrop of my target, select my aiming point and then actually hit the target. It was simple and rehearsed through years in the army, but to these local former mujahideen, my actions were inspiring. The four with me at this original time just goggled at me as again I cleared the weapon, and handed it back to its owner is a safe condition. Looking over my target area as I left, I saw the guards all pointing and talking about my shooting and weapon handling. It was a little bit of an ego