| The first part of a long, thoroughly researched and well-written analysis by Wajahat S. Khan for The Friday Times, which weekly gives us the charming "Nuggets From the Urdu Press". |
Intro: At Peace with War?
If countries were books, then airports would be their covers. Till the tarmac, Kabul's airport compares in size and dreariness levels with Quetta's. But once inside the terminal, elements of the decade-long war machine begin to glint and grind. The premise of Afghanistan's long conflict and the promise of a lingering peace reveal themselves simultaneously. At war with itself and others, Afghanistan greets its visitors not as an uncomplicated country.
| Total and immediate evacuation at the minute the clock strikes 2014 is not an option... '2014 is a goal, not a deadline' |
Unclear is whether the Afghans are perfectly comfortable with perpetual bellicosity or seething under occupation. One sees the hoarding for a hotel that promises blast-resistant windows and doors - always a good sign of adaptable hospitality, or hospitable adaptability. Also lurking is the prodigal son, a returned-from-Dubai immigrant lugging two flat-screen TVs, trimmed by his snazzy sunglasses and white imitation-snakeskin shoes. Most of the other passengers on the Safi Air flight are NGO types, but there are a few soldier/spy variants, though in civvies but still sporting their West Point and Annapolis rings. The police guards are randomly placed, shabbily uniformed and ill tempered. The transport C-130 spin-offs on the tarmac have their own coterie of better looking and fear inspiring protectors: armed contractors with blond manes, desert tans tans and angry tattoos that match their weaponry. The immigration officer is not amused by my Pak passport, but he's not interested to investigate much. Outside, kids are exchanging dollars and dinars out of hand-carried display cases. Some US Army, in battle fatigues but not wearing armour, are hanging by a Humvee smoking as they wait for a pick up, probably a buddy from their unit. I'm trying to capture everything, suppressing the panic of my lost luggage that a Safi staffer, in fractured Urdu, has promised will be on the next flight, when I make first contact |