An Ode to Air-Conditioning

My first five weeks here, our air conditioning did not work.  I don’t mean it didn’t work as in..it didn’t get cool enough or it blew out warm air. I mean it just didn’t work. We couldn’t turn it on; we had no airflow.  As I understand it, the air conditioning hadn’t worked in nearly a year. 

At first it wasn’t too terrible, the temps never broke 90 during the day and the evenings cooled down into the 60s.  Of course, I was still adjusting to being here and probably could have slept outside at high noon if I needed.  However, as time went on and my body adjusted, the temperatures rose. The days got hotter which meant the nights took longer to cool and our room turned into a steam oven. The only relief we got was by keeping our window open. That presented its own set of problems.

First, there is a cement factory at the end of our street.  It’s loud and they work all night.  So our symphony of sleep now included the blissful sounds of forklifts and dump trucks beeping as they back up or make absolutely any kind of movement.  This sound even found its way into my dreams as a never-ending distress beacon or alarm clock.

Second, it’s actually bright on this base.  In order to get the full effect of cooler temps in our room, we kept our blinds open.  There’s a street light right outside our window.  And when that’s not on, the sun’s up. The sun rises here BEFORE 5AM!!  It took me awhile not to wake in sudden fear as I realized I overslept and missed work only to realize I still have 2 hours of sleep.  I so enjoy the morning heart attacks, really I do.

Third, it’s dusty here.  That makes the wind an untrusted ally in the quest to keep cool.  On one hand, the breeze is great when we get it. On the other, I actually got dusty as I slept. So did everything in our room.  Where’s Molly Maid when you need them?  Me and most of my roommates work at least 12 hours a day, every day.  It takes about a little more than an hour each day to get dressed and undressed with all the luxuries of showering and human maintenance.  There’s usually a half-hour or so devoted to laundry..be it putting it away, dropping it off or picking it up.  A half-hour bullshitting with  our cohabitants and an hour or two of trying to relax.  Best-case scenario, we have 10 hours to sleep, eat and run any errands we may have.  It’s rarely a best-case scenario day.  I don’t want to spend my time wiping down every horizontal surface in my room; but I also don’t want to live in filth.  Decisions, decisions.

So, my roommates and neighbors (the room next-door had no A/C either) launched a campaign to get someone to pay attention to our plight.  3 Colonels and a GS13 got involved.  The star of the show however, was my very own LT Fingers.  She called and emailed almost daily.  She spoke to anyone who listened.  The company in charge of such “trivial” matters as air conditioning is KBR.  They have a huge contract and have their fingers in a lot of pies here in the Middle East.  Surprisingly enough, our comfort is not high on their priority list. I’m thinking “big picture” here.  Well, the good LT took them head on and badgered them until they knew her by voice.  She is my hero.  She finally got a reaction.

I can only imagine the conversations in that office.  “Bob, it’s that damn lady again bitching about sweating while she sleeps.  What the hell is wrong with her? You think she’d appreciate having a sauna in her room” “Well Jim, let’s use some Afghan ingenuity and get the locals to fix it.  That will teach her.”  They both laugh that evil genius sitcom laugh as the scene fades to black.

It all started a week ago….some men came in the room while our two night-shift workers were sound asleep and half-naked.  The hotter it gets, the more they strip in their sleep.  Makes perfect sense, right? What doesn’t make sense is that random men walked into our room without the common courtesy of a knock.  However, they apparently looked at the ceiling and said something that my roommates discerned as having to do with the air conditioner.  Given the importance of the topic, my roommates wouldn’t have cared if these men had seen them naked.

The next day, Fingers got an email saying our A/C would be fixed that week. This was a joyous occasion and one she shared in our staff meeting.  Not everyone saw the relevance of that information to our staff meeting, but they all had nice, cool rooms.

Two days after that; success!  I had to stop by the room in the middle of the day and saw little men in KBR suits outside our building in the general area of our room.  As I neared the building, I noticed our window was missing.  Well, at least the actual window portion of it anyways.  Instead, we had plywood where the window used to be.  Huh, interesting.

Then, I walked in the building. As I entered the hallway, one of the little KBR men stopped and asked me if I was in that room. I said yes and he said something about coming back.  Okay, great. 

As I opened the door to my room, I felt cool air hit my face.  Not being used to the sensation, my eyes immediately shut in a knee-jerk reaction.  What was this refreshing breeze?  Was it, could it be, am I dreaming….AIR?!

When I opened my eyes, I saw the best engineering that KBR could muster.  They boarded up our window, cut a hole for an air hose and built a wooden trapeze.  On the top of this trapeze-like structure was bolted a portable unit of some sort.  Or at least I thought it was portable.  That doesn’t really matter though…what does is that we had air-conditioning. Hallelujah! I immediately called Fingers and beckoned her from the office.  She had to bask in the crowning glory of our trapeze unit.

As I took it all in, I immediately thought of those “Look honey, I done fixed it,” emails. You know the ones I’m talking about.  It started to sink in..we had a hand-made, wooden parallel bar in our room. I get gym equipment mixed up in my mind..being a paragon of physical fitness and all.  Right about then, I realized I had goose bumps; real ones from cold air.  The AC was on and their seemed to be two settings; on or off.  On was arctic and off brought back the tropics…especially with our new plywood window.  Then, I realized we are screwed if there’s a fire.  That’s a real possibility given that I do live in a dangerous country filled with dangerous people who hate Americans.

As I left that day and headed back to work, I took a closer look at the outside of the window and realized; our portable unit wasn’t portable at all.  They have a main unit on the ground outside the window..hence the hole with the hose running through it.  This thing is about the size of the AC unit on my 1600 square-foot house and our room might be 100 square-feet big.  I would love to see the bill. I just want to know how much it cost for KBR to be rid of my good roommate, Finger.

A week has passed with our new air-conditioner and I will not complain a bit. I have learned to appreciate living in the Arctic.  It’s even dark in here all-day.  Of course, we now all consistently oversleep and I have to give myself a pep-talk every time I enter the room after showering but it’s all worth it.  I can sleep at night… I just happen to be swaddled in blankets and wearing sweats.

I know it's not rotated, but you get the idea.

Driving in Downtown

There are so many new experiences that I could share but having recently finished driving training, I thought I would share this one.  Driving training here is 7 days long. There is no classroom instruction and no final exam.  You spend 2 days in the passenger seat as the TC (tactical commander) and then 5 days as the driver.  You drive here with the MOVECON guys, or combat taxis, as I have heard them call themselves. It's these guys job to get people safely and efficienty around the greater Kabul area.  Sounds like a pretty nice gig, until you live it.

The nicest part of driving with these guys is their vehicles.  For my training, I got to ride around in a big, black Suburban.  All of the vehicles we drive off base are fully armored with bullet-proof windows.  These things are beasts and boy are they heavy but they are also very comfortable.  It would be a great ride..except for the windows that don't open, the IBA (individual body armor) and helmet you wear..and oh yeah; the loaded rifle and pistol sitting right next to you.

Leaving the base is kind of a freeing experience; outside the wire...new sights to see, new things to learn, music to listen to...the power of driving an armored SUV.  And as soon as you get outside the wire, you want to get back inside it.  Kabul is a bustling city like any other.  Except, this bustling city is still working on things like sewage systems, trash pickup and oh yeah; traffic rules.

I don't know what sadness hits you first; it may be the children picking through the trash dumps on the side of the street, maybe it's the smell of the place as you pass what used to be a flowing creek or river or the herd of goats and cows or maybe it's the falling apart homes and businesses along the sides of the streets.  The sights and sounds create a sort of sensory overload on a regular basis.  There is always a donkey or horse pulling a cart somewhere nearby, a man, woman or child pumping water from the town well, a kid waving at you or throwing a rock at your vehicle, a parent walking a child across the street and there's usually at least one civillian carrying an AK.  Seeing this town firsthand is a constant rotation between laughter at some cute, human moment, disbelief in some "you can't make this shit up" sort of way and fear that you are going to hit someone or be hit.

And then there's the actual foot and vehicle traffic.  I mention the foot traffic because there are people EVERYWHERE; they are along rural roads and highways alike.  There are men, women and children running about and darting in front of everything that moves.  The streets do not have cross-walks and I have seen only one working stoplight. In Italy, if you want to cross a busy street as a pedestrian, you have to commit.  Don't look at anyone, take a breath and just step off the curb.  Cars will stop if you don't make eye contact with the driver.  These people live off the same principal but they don't completely own it...so you end up moving one way to avoid hitting someone only to have them turn back into your path.  And then there's the kids...they are just everywhere and they really have no fear.  Where are there parents?  I personally would put an electric collar on my kids and set it to the edges of the sidewalk.  They try to step off and they get zapped.  It may sound cruel but given the alternative, I think it might just be a great parenting skill these people could pick up.

Next, we get to the cars. I don't even know where to start.  I continually remind myself that only a few years ago, most people didn't have the luxury of  owning a car.  I think I remember reading that Kabul's population of drivers has more than doubled since  Taliban rule ended.  I don't think these people actually learned how to drive their cars; I think if you have the money to purchase one that seems to be good enough for driving.  I really don't know if there's a speed limit in this country and it concerns me.  Most people don't go too terribly fast for the roads they are on until you consider the aforementioned pedestrians.  Oh, and I forgot to mention the bicycles. 

Bike riders here are worse than pedestrians; because those two wheels and metal frame makes them so much safer. These people like to cut into traffic, go against it on the F*IN HIGHWAY (an issue there..but another story for another time ... and definitely not in print) and generally pretend like they are invincible.  It freaking kills me.  I don't mind that there are so many bikes on the road but being on two wheels does not give you the right to act like an idiot. Oh wait, the guys with four wheels act just as retarded.

So, back to cars...Kabul's streets are filled with traffic circles. In MOVECON, I learned that when you enter a circle, you always enter at the six with the clock laid out in front of you. If you are taking a right, you exit at the 3, if you are taking a left, you exit at the 9.  Well, at some of the bigger circles, instead of entering at the six and going aroudn to the 9, it's apparently so much more fun to just take a left into the oncoming traffic.  WTF, man? W..T....F?  Who does that shit?  Even the Italians have more sense than that...and they drive however they want.  Talk about pucker factor...every time I have to encounter or maneuver through that, I want to curl up in a ball and cry for my mommy.  If I make it through, I typically feel like I should be awarded an Olympic medal or some such accolade of equal prestige. 

As each trip draws to a close, I realize the real freedom is getting back on base.  Yes, the perimeter may seem confining; yes, driving may remind me of being home and yes, I may enjoy listening to the radio but none of it bests the freedom of not worrying of who I will hit and when.  So, while it may be necessary and even nice to get out and about once in awhile, I will remember that walking on base is a freedom that comes with a lot less risk...and a lot less body armor.

The First Days

So, we finally land in Kabul and they let us get off the plane.  The first thing I notice is the wonderfully cooler air.  Immediately, I prefer this place to Kuwait or Kandahar.  They load us on a bus and, after our luggage is unloaded and the pallets moved, they drive us to the terminal.  Before we even unload the bus, I see my good friend Butler with 3 Sailors unloading the pallet and I realize they are looking for my bags.  I hurry off the bus and yell for him.  The smile on his face told me he was happier to see me than I was to see him...and I was pretty happy to see my friend.  However, my arrival reminded him of his impending departure I think.  The guys grab my luggage and load it in a truck.  I even had welcoming presents from Butler. He immediately handed me my new IJC patch, a tupperware filled with random useful stuff and a wallet for all the IDs I will soon need. Consider it my guest amenity if you will.  This is real VIP treatment and my travelling partners, the rest of Morgan's Zeroes, finally realize how important I really am.  After a few quick "goodbyes" and "good lucks," Butler and I leave the terminal.  He tells the Sailors to drive to my barracks and we will walk.  That's when I realize I am actually stationed at the airport. I had a different idea in my mind but we walked off the flight line and onto the compound.  Butler gave me a quick overview as we walked and we passed my future workspace.

At the barracks, the guys were already taking my stuff in and Lt Finger met us and showed me to my room.  Before heading into the female berthing, Butler asked me how long I needed.  Keep in mind, I had been travelling for 11 days, wearing the same cammies for 3 and sweating profusely the entire time.  With a straight face, he asks if I want to meet him in 30 minutes.  Yeah, he was excited to see me.  I gently remind him I need to shower and for my efforts, get an hour and a half.  The good Lt showed me my lockers, let me pick a bed and already even had one with sheets and a pillow on her.  Yeah; we'll get along famously.  I dump my stuff, find clean clothes and hop in the shower.  Ahhhh, relief.  I'm "home" now but have no time to get used to it. Butler wants to begin turnover.

He takes me to the office and the handshaking and "nice to meet you" part of turnover begins.  Fortunately, no one had anything terribly important to say.  I think they all remembered what it was like their first day and knew I would remember nothing we talked about.  After a quick tour, Butler asks me if I'm hungry.  Considering that the only meal I had consisted of the few raviolis I was able to spear with my knife, the answer was "yes." 

He took me to the Turkish restaurant for dinner. I had a nice kabob.  Sadly, mealtime included a fly invasion that ruined the ambience of the whole place.  I'm not an expert, but i think the missing screen or glass on the front door might have been their entry point into the place.  Butler had a checklist to review and all sorts of official looking paperwork.  He gave me a rundown of the crew and my new officemates as well as a history of his experiences during deployment.  It was great to have a friend and familiar face on my first day and I am so glad I got replace him.  All the emails, phone calls and letters really prepared me for the coming days.

We went back to the office where I had packages waiting for me already!  I had one from my good friend Jennifer and two from my mother.  Jennifer's package included flashlights and caribiners which helped make me an instant hit in the office.  It also included a little momento to remind me of some of our finer moments at the occasional watering hole.  My mother had sent forward some of the items I had left for her as well as chocolates, cup O' noodles, crackers and assorted snacks. I thought, "my new office mates HAVE to like me now, I showed up with cool gear and food on my first day."  It was nice to have pieces of home and care packages waiting on me.  It was a great harbinger of mail to come!

At about 9 that night, I finally tell Butler I have to go to bed.  We make arrangements to meet for breakfast the next morning.  I won't bore you with detail of my dining experience..that's a later topic.  Let's just say that the food really is as bad as everyone told me it would be. 

My first few days really were a blur. I met a lot of folks, learned a lot of information and forgot even more.  I got my emails set up, checked in to the various offices on base, started to unpack but never quite finished and before I knew it, Butler was leaving.  I think I may have pushed him out of the office at some point.  This job has been his project for the last seven months and I could see the passion and concern he has for it.  Somehow, I think that will start to fade in the coming weeks and months as he gets closer to home and returns to his life.  I only hope that in 7 months, I have put the same effort into this job as he did. I hope that I will have been as good to my relief as he has been to me.  I guess really, I hope I will have been as good period.