This place is full of extreme people. We went in convoy to a meeting, hauling an
ex-Marine as a guardian. He was dressed for
war; dress slacks, but with Army boots, armor, pistol, long gun, plenty of magazines
and a gaze that could kill. Once at the
Ministry, the rest of us stripped off the armor, adjusted our coats and ties, as
he just stared. “I don’t trust these
sons-o-bitches” he belted out and proceeded to walk to the meeting hall ready
for war, oddly with his coat jacket on a hangar clipped to his body armor. Not a hello or a smile from him to any of the
Police about the HQ. Pretty sad.
We recently had dinner with a few Afghan businessmen who had been
linguists with Special Forces in the early 2000’s (deep in the heavy action), and
when asked what they wished all of us would know, they all said pretty much the
same thing: “You came here searching for enemies instead of trying to find
friends”. Who knows how things might be
today?
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