On my fifth full day here, I left our little gated community for the second time. I’m a bit apprehensive. Not because I’m going to the Presidential Palace, but because I’m doing so without my weapon or body armor. I mean the guy at Bagram said I’m in a war zone, right? To compound matters, the entire embassy is on lockdown due to some intelligence saying an attack might happen today. We had to get special permission for the trip and this permission was only granted because the meeting was with the Afghan National Security Council.
Yep, you read that correctly – a lowly Major attending another country’s National Security Council meeting. I couldn’t even get in the same zip code as the US equivalent of this meeting. Anyway, I met the State Department guy and jumped into an armored Landcruiser (what a nice touch). He’s briefing me on what to expect and who the players are so I’m not paying attention to where we’re going, but intuitively recognize it’s a short drive.
We arrive at the gate and armed guards are everywhere. Rather than traditional camouflage uniforms, however, they’re wearing a black and gray, funky pattern that doesn’t blend into anything I’ve seen in this country so far – or anywhere else for that matter. Although I think Arnold Swartzennegger (Ahhh-nold) wore something like this is the Predator movie. Anyway, the guy comes out and, apparently, I’m on the list and good to go, but my State Department escort isn’t. He’s talking about how I may have to go in by myself and I’m thinking: “Dude, I’m still exhaling stateside oxygen and you want me to go in alone? I don’t even know which building it’s in.”
Well, luckily everything got figured out and we both got in. The Presidential Palace is a number of buildings, some of which were built in the late 1800s, jumbled together around a relatively nice looking courtyard. There were a few trees and some grass, but it had nothing on the US Embassy. I wondered why it was called a Palace, as I didn’t see anything palatial, just old buildings. Of course, I didn’t get to see where Karzai lives, so maybe that was it.
After going through the initial security cordon, we encounter the inspection area. I’m told that these guys have been trained by our very our diplomatic security corps (the guys that guard Secretary Hillary Clinton and all her folks) and are really good at what they do. Well, they were very professional and extremely thorough. As I emptied every single thing from my pockets and received a pat-down that would make TSA envious, I was impressed with the level of security. I did have to leave my cell phone and blackberry, but was allowed to take everything else in. Once through the pat-down area, we walked through the courtyard to the National Security Building where I met a number of folks whose names I cannot remember. There were representatives from President Karzai’s office, the Afghan National Army, the National Police, Supreme Court, US embassy, UK embassy, NATO, etc. You get the picture (I’m staying away from names just in case someone might have an issue with such disclosure).
As we sit down and the meeting comes to order, I notice that the Afghans all have their cell phones. WTF? I have to leave mine outside? Oh well, it’s their meeting and their rules. Plus, it’s nice to shake off the tether every once in a while. I’m at this meeting because we’re expecting a progress report on judicial sector issues from the provinces. Having read up on the issues from previous meetings (see what a good JAG I am) I fully understood the issues and was eagerly awaiting new information to take back to my boss. I was disappointed. Although only allotted 35 minutes in the meeting, participants spent roughly an hour rehashing the same old issues and complaining about the current state of affairs.
Implementation of the rule of law throughout the country is impeded by three issues: security, low salary, and insufficient legislation to delineate lines of authority and assurance of prosecutorial independence. Well, thanks for the news flash, cowboy. I may have so little time in-country that I still have issues finding the chow hall, but I do know about these three issues. About halfway through this rehash, two guys bring in trays of cups with what I assume is tea. WooHoo! I’m suddenly parched as I gained an addiction to hot tea while in England and loved the tea time with the Iraqis while I was in Kirkuk.
After tea was handed out to the main participants, I was handed a small cup and saucer. The cup was thinly cast, fine china with an elegant floral pattern. Beside the cup was a small block of something with Dari writing, so I had no idea what it was. Inside the cup was not what appeared to be tea. It was a translucent, highlighter yellow liquid. I looked around and saw that some folks had already unwrapped their little stick things and were sipping their highlighter tea. As there was no spoon, and I hadn’t seen anyone do anything with the stick I unwrapped it and took a bite. It was really good, sort of like pure sugar cane taffy with less consistency. The “tea” tastes bland, not bad just bland so I thought that maybe the other folks had put the stick in their “tea.” I put the other half in the cup while the guy next to me gave me a puzzled look. “I’m a newbie,” I thought, “Give me a break.” I had no idea whether I was doing this correctly or not, but I certainly didn’t want to offend our Afghan hosts, so I wanted to make sure I consumed whatever they brought. Well, I think the guy next to me was on to something because the stick thing never fully dissolved. It did add some sweetness to my drink, so I think I came out ahead.
After the judicial portion of the meeting was over, I put down my notebook and relaxed a bit to take in the scene. Around a long, highly polished, oak table sat the movers and shakers in Afghan politics and national security. The only way it could get bigger was if the President and Ministers themselves met. Beautiful paintings of rural Afghanistan adorned the walls. Fine china held “tea” symbolizing the inherent aristocratic nature of the meeting (maybe they got that from the Brits back in the “Great Game” days). And there it was -- sitting in the center of the table, just beyond the reach of the representative from the office of the Afghan President -- an advertisement for a Toyota Siena. Now this struck me as odd not because it was a Japanese car instead of an American car (you know, the main country footing the bill for the Afghan experiment in democracy), but its mere presence at a meeting of this magnitude. I did not see the other side, but presume it to have been a calendar -- the kind you see on the desk of an automobile salesman. “Well,” I thought, “there are quite a few Toyota Hilux (i.e. Tacoma) trucks used by the Afghan government, perhaps the calendars come free with a purchase.”
Anyway, after an extremely squared away Afghan Army General finished his briefing, the meeting adjourned and I walked outside with the State Department representative as he telephoned the embassy to come pick us up. He told me we would walk down the road toward the checkpoint for pickup. As we closed in on the checkpoint I asked if the traffic circle (roundabout for my British friends) beyond the checkpoint was in the security zone. He said it was not. Looking down at the absence of my body armor and weapon, I said that I’d rather not stand on the street. “Why,” he asked. “Well, you’re in civilian attire so you can blend in, but my uniform makes me a pretty distinctive target.” He agreed to wait inside the wire and said nothing else until the car came. Once in the car, the driver drove to the other side of the roundabout and entered a checkpoint into the green zone. “Damn,” I thought, “why didn’t this guy tell me I was actually in a pretty safe area?” Yeah, I felt like a wuss after that. I bet he went back to his office and laughed it up with his buddies about that. Fair enough. :-)
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