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Confection

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  1. Confection

    Road Rage

    By Confection,

    You say matatu, I say FUCK YOU GET OUT OF MY WAY!
     
    I never thought I would put this into words: Afghans are not the worst drivers in the world. That honor belongs to Ethiopians. While in Kabul drivers had to contend with crowded streets, one traffic light and men on bicycles and drove like fucking lunatics, Ethiopians have paved roads, traffic lights and traffic police and are still unable to get their heads out of their asses to drive down the road without 1) venturing into my lane or 2) pulling out in front of me without looking. Plus they are slow. Now I have stated before that Ethiopians are officially the slowest people on earth, but, overall, this does not concern me at the bread store, at the restaurant, or at the gym; but it bothers the hell out of me on the road. Added to the ignorant people in regular cars are the minibuses (matatus? Marshrutki?) of which there must be at least 500,000 in Addis alone. These little beat up junk buckets are blue and white, ill-maintained focal points for my scorn. They pick up people every ten feet, not pulling off the road to do so, and pull out into traffic without any forewarning. Plus, most do not have break lights. Just today, one pulled in front of me while I was hauling ass down Djibouti Street (that’s Mazoria 22 for all y’all old school folk), so I laid on the horn for at least 20 seconds, after which, someone in a passing car yelled, “slow down!” to which I replied, “your mother!”
     
    Sadly, people are always telling white-girl-in-red-car to slow down. Often, when I am in first gear. Lord, people.
     
    But let us not forget the Ethiopian PEDESTRIANS. I think the years of famine have stunted the cerebral growth of these people. They walk in the street, they stand in the street, they run out in front of my car while it’s in the street, they see how close they can get (someone actually told me these pedestrians try to get as close as possible to speeding cars for “luck”!). Sometimes, I am ashamed to admit, I will speed up when I see these people. While attempting to run down pedestrians is simply fun for me and my mom in the parking lot of our local Tennessee Wal-Mart, such actions are cathartic rush for white-girl-in-red-car in Addis Ababa.
     
    And don’t even get me started on the donkey herds roaming the public roads.
     
    Alas, I think I am becoming notorious. There are only so many times white-girl-in-red-car can ram vehicles who pull out in front of her on purpose on Djibouti street without attracting some vigilante justice.
     
    I think I need to switch cars.
  2. Confection

    As If

    By Confection,

    (from the BBC)
     
    US targets Ethiopia for sanctions
     
    Correspondents say Ethiopia has come in for increased criticism over its human rights record since the violent crackdown on post poll protests in 2005; opposition leaders imprisoned as a consequence have subsequently been released.
     
    And since Ethiopia's went into Somalia last December to help the transitional government- a rebellion in its eastern Ogaden region which borders Somalia has escalated.
     
    'Correct wrongdoings'
     
    The US representatives approved the Ethiopian Democracy and Accountability Act on Tuesday, which puts Ethiopian government officials at risk of being denied entry visas over human rights violations.
     
    It also threatens to withhold military aid of at least $1.5m
     
    Mr Payne said the bill was bipartisan and secured unanimous approval.
     
    "It's something that's been discussed ever since the killing of civilians, gunned down in the streets of Addis [Ababa] almost two years ago," the Democratic Congressman told the BBC's Network Africa.
     
    "There was a feeling that Ethiopia, being an ally of the United States, should have an opportunity to correct some of the wrongdoings, and that has not happened.
     
    "Two years later people are still being imprisoned. There's still problems in the Ogaden region. People are having food kept away from them. That's why we finally said we need to move forward with it."
     
    Samuel Assefa, Ethiopia's ambassador to the US, called the bill "irresponsible" and said it would hamper efforts to improve things.
     
    "The legislation also would undermine regional stability in the Horn of Africa by jeopardising vital security cooperation between the United States and Ethiopia," he said in a statement, Reuters news agency reports.
     
    The BBC's Elizabeth Blunt in Addis Ababa says as Ethiopia is such a strong ally of the US in the Horn of Africa, it is unlikely that President George Bush's administratation will be sympathetic to the bill.
  3. Confection

    Panjwayi

    By Confection,

    Man, shit. I posted this then learned about an IED explosion in Wardak province that hit the vehicle of an organization that does humanitarian medical aid. A doctor, two nurses and the driver were killed. Remote controlled IED--hit the car head on and only the transmission is left. In Wardak? What the fuck is going on?
     
    Usually it is only the military that is targeted, I guess that is all changing now. Gee, you might wonder why people are getting so pissed off:
     
     
     
     
     
    mounts over civilian deaths in Afghanistan
    1 hour, 1 minute ago
     
    KANDAHAR, Afghanistan (AFP) - Villagers have insisted that dozens of civilians were killed in a coalition strike in Afghanistan, as rights groups voiced concern about mounting civilian casualties in days of fighting.
     
     
    The governor of southern Kandahar province, Asadullah Khalid, said Monday that at least 16 civilians were killed early Monday in an air and ground strike in the province's Panjwayi district.
     
    But a teacher in nearby Tulakhan village told AFP by telephone that he saw the bodies of 40 civilians, including children, and that about 50 others had been wounded.
     
    The US-coalition said up to 80 suspected Taliban had died in the raid targeting Azizi village in Panjwayi, adding it was investigating claims of civilian casualties.
     
    The teacher, named Abdullah, said he had assisted in burying 28 people and saw the bodies of 12 others being returned to their home village from other areas.
     
    Eight houses in his village were destroyed in the bombing, several damaged and scores of animals were killed, he said from the area, which was still off-limits to journalists.
     
    Other residents told AFP at the main hospital in Kandahar city on Monday that they had seen scores of dead and wounded.
     
    An elderly man, Attah Mohammad, said he had lost 24 members of his family, including some children.
     
    The strike was the latest incident in nearly a week that has seen some of the heaviest fighting in Afghanistan since the Taliban were removed in 2001 -- clashes that have left around 300 people dead, most of them rebels.
     
    The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and the United Nations expressed concern about reports of civilians being caught up in the violence.
     
    The ICRC urged "the parties to exercise constant care in the conduct of military operations," describing the situation in the south as "worsening".
     
    "At all times they must take all feasible precautions to protect civilians against the effects of any attacks," it said.
     
    A UN spokesman in Kabul said Monday that "it is clearly important that everything possible is done to ensure the safety of civilians, as well as ensuring safety for UN and other humanitarian workers."
     
    The insecurity was hampering the world body's work in the south, spokesman Adrian Edwards told reporters, but noted there were no plans to evacuate the area.
     
    The coalition said it had targeted only compounds harbouring "extremists".
     
    It said Monday it had called in warplanes after troops who were trying to capture insurgents in the area came under fire, while the governor said some of the militants had hidden in local people's houses.
     
    There have been several major battles with insurgents during the past week, including a clash in Panjwayi last Wednesday and Thursday which Khalid said left 100 Taliban dead and netted some senior Taliban commanders.
     
    The fighting has also claimed the lives of about 50 Afghans, besides those killed in the latest coalition raid, most of them from the fledgling police and army.
     
    Five foreign nationals have been killed: two French special forces soldiers, a Canadian female soldier, an American soldier and one US civilian killed in a suicide bombing in the western city of Herat on Thursday.
  4. Confection
    Whenever I read a story like this, I feel like I have been kicked in the chest.
     
    I have been out of Afghanistan now for over four months. Still, I can't tear myself away from the stories--stories so fucking bewildering they make me want to cry. Why would anyone gun down schoolgirls?
     
    I think about the time I went to a school opening in the same province where these two little girls were killed. My organization had built a primary school for boys and one for girls and a few colleagues and I were invited for the ceremony. Dozens of little girls lined the walk as we approached the school--handing us flowers, singing and shaking our hands. They were all wearing the traditional green headscarves and maroon dresses with gold trim. After we toured the new school, one of the girls read a poem she had written and the teachers provided us with sugar coated almonds, raisins and green tea even though it was Ramadan and all of the Muslims were fasting--not eating or drinking until sundown.
     
    Two months later, a rocket hit the school at night. No one was hurt and there was minimal damage, but it was a warning.
     
    I guess things are getting worse.
     
    Stories like this also remind me of the Afghans who really meant a lot to me--the civil engineer I worked with who broke down crying when he heard I was leaving for Ethiopia and told me, "I have three daughters. The youngest, she is like you. I always encourage her to be like you." The Afghans who called when the riots happened to make sure I was OK, the friends who offered to take us into hiding. I also think about Sharif, a driver at my work. Sharif did not speak English, but taking me and my husband home one day my husband noticed a Zemfira tape in his car.
     
    "Ti gavareesh pa-ruskii?" ("you speak Russian?"), my husband asked, using the informal "you" which always pisses me off. "Da", he replied--a friendship was born.
     
    Sharif went to university in Leningrad and finished his degree in history in 1987--two years before the Soviets were run out of Afghanistan by the Mujahadeen. He had five daughters, a real misfortune for an Afghan father. Since I was the only expatriate Sharif could communicate with (the only one who spoke Russian), he often asked me what was going on within the organization--the hirings, firings and other gossip and he told me what was going on in Afghanistan--the corrupt police, the bombings, the rumors.
     
    Before my husband and I left Afghanistan for good Sharif invited us over to his house for dinner. He lived in the "unplanned" area of the city where people squatted on public land in mud houses. He lived on the side of TV hill, on the third floor of a lopsided building with no running water and no sewer (wastewater ran down a trench in the center of the dirt road). We met all of his beautiful daughters, including the smallest, Arazu, who was five. Sitting there drinking tea with Sharif and his family, I could tell how much he loved his daughters.
     
    They brought out dozens of dishes from their small kitchen in a genuine display of hospitality. After dinner, Sharif's daughters presented me with some jewlery they had made for me and Sharif brought out his photos.
     
    The pictures broke my heart. Here was Sharif--twenty years ago with more hair--in Sochi, with his college friends (big Soviet women lounging in bikinis in the background, obviously scandalous for an Afghan). Here was Sharif in Red Square, in front of Lenin's tomb, in his obshezhetye (dorm) with his friends from Pakistan, China and Kenya. Here was Sharif, so full of hope, thinking that the world was ahead of him with no idea what was going to happen a few years down the road.
     
    Now he is a driver earning $125 a month and supporting his wife and five girls.
     
    When I hear terrible things about Afghanistan, I think about people like Sharif. I think about people who just want to raise their children and celebrate their weddings, to play with their grandchildren and sit around with friends and drink tea. I think about how the bombings have killed the family members of friends. I think about the little girls who sang songs for the foreigners when they got their new school. I think about Sharif sitting in the window of his small, two-room house, holding his little Arazu.
  5. Confection

    Strange Rumors

    By Confection,

    I just heard something strange from an Afghan guy I work with and a co-worker who speaks Dari corroborated that she had heard the same thing.
     
    Apparently, the American forces are supplying the Taliban. The guy I talked to said with food, but my co-worker said munitions. Also, there are stories about Afghans fighting the Taliban who capture Taliban fighters, turn them over to ISAF (the International Security Assistance Force) and then capture the same guys fighting for the Taliban weeks later at which point the Taliban tell their captors, "you guys are stupid--the Americans are supporting us too!"
     
    This could all be bullshit. But why would the Americans be supporting the Taliban? Is it a tactic of spreading these rumors among Afghans so that they will not support Americans and NATO/ISAF troops? I wonder.
  6. Confection

    Applications

    By Confection,

    In addition to writing proposals, reviewing proposals, developing assessments, creating presentations, drinking coffee and reading Perez Hilton, one of the most tedious, but relatively amusing tasks that I have is reviewing job applications. Now, the first vetting isn't something I do regularly, and would only usually do it if I were filling my own position; however, serving as Project Manager for the project I totally made up I feel like I need to have greater control on how this whole thing kicks off.
     
    So, ladies and gentlemen, without further adieu, I give you excerpts from applications:
     
    Makes what swell?
     
    “I have done my second research paper had a title of ‘Hot romance movie and its impact on the swell of HIV/AIDS’”
     
    &*#@! I hate ampersands.
     
    “I have a Bachelor degree in STATISTICS as MAJOR and COMPUTER SCIENCE as a MINOR from ADDIS ABABA UNIVERSITY. Therefore, I have very interested and best hood in working in the vacant position, which I am applying for being competitive & successful in the position. Attached here with, I enclosed all my documents that witness about me.”
     
    Alright—at least three applicants talked about “exerting [their] efforts” (not in my office you don't):
     
    “I would be glad and most powerful if you give me a chance of employment so as to exert my effort with dedication & honesty.”
     
    “…to exert my effort with dedication and honest.”
     
     
    At least it is better than being a “steamed” organization:
    “I am writing this letter of application to request for an open position in your estimated organization…”
     
    Fill in the blank, we aren’t picky:
     
    “I am interested to work as (in pen) Monitoring Officer in your school/college /organization…”
     
    Finally, the respect I deserve:
     
    “Dear: Sir/Madam
    I have the honour to inform your Excellency that I am very interested to employ in the position of Monitoring Officer…”
  7. Confection

    A Public Apology

    By Confection,

    To the Diners at the Mac Restaurant, White Sands Beach, Koh Chang, Trat Province, Thailand:
     
    I am writing to apologize for the involuntary act I perpetrated at 8:30pm, Thursday, June 22, 2006. If I had been given a choice, I would not have projectile vomited without notice in front of at least twenty individuals who were enjoying their dinners, facing the sea, when I walked across their field of vision, yakked, and then kept on going without pause. Yes, it was rude; but I maintain that I had no control at that point and I thought that I was safe to walk the few hundred meters back to my bungalow as I had vomited less than 90 seconds earlier behind a palm tree at the Lagoon restaurant (adjacent to the Mac).
     
    No, I was not drunk. I had consumed less than half of a (small) Singha that evening. Also, I had not overeaten, as I had only taken two bites of my red curry vegetables before the obscene event took place (which was done just to appease my husband who was offended that I ordered food which I had no intention of eating). I blame the amount of sun I had been exposed to that day; while living in Afghanistan I rarely have the chance to run around bare-assed naked all the time, everywhere, so my body was not able to process the copious amounts of Vitamin D in my system.
     
    In sum, I am sorry for ruining your meals. I hope this incident was not the worst of your vacation.
     
    Sincerely,
     
    Confection
     
    P.S. Confidential to the lady who said “revolting” as I shuffled past: fuck off.
  8. Confection

    New Airline Regulations

    By Confection,

    Yes, the restrictions on liquids are relaxed, but how does this affect my Duty Free purchases?!?!?
     
    Ugh, I hate flying to America. I hope they shake me the fuck down like they did in Frankfurt a year ago. Trying to prove that you work in Afghanistan and are not a terrorist is not as easy as it sounds. I was forced to bust out my employer-issued ID with the photo of me looking angelic (and Iranian) in my chador. The old American ladies working the counter finally let me through, but the Azeri American who worked for the State Department (!!!) was not so lucky. Ah, profiling. It really doesn't matter what passport you hold or where you work, they can keep you from your flight if you are not the right color.
     
    So this will be my 22nd time crossing the Atlantic. Crying babies, farting Indians, Xanax and red wine are par for course. I hope this will all be reflected on my frequent flyer miles.
  9. Confection
    I now have an answer as to why I have been unable to eat since my husband went to West Africa: a peptic ulcer.
     
    I awoke Monday with chest pains. Nonetheless, I got ready and (being the Pionerka that I am) went into the office at 8:30. By 10:00, I was doubled over in pain and thought it was a panic attack. My boss instructed one of my Ethiopian counterparts to take me to St. Gabriel’s hospital, less than 2 kilometers from the office and a block from my house. We entered the hospital and explained to the people behind the registration desk that I was having chest pains; they regarded these symptoms with the same urgency they would give an ingrown toenail.
     
    I paid my 60 birr registration fee and was instructed to go and wait in the “waiting area” which consists of a narrow hallway leading to the cafeteria with several worn leather seats and which smells of fried fish and bleach. I sat down and turned my attention to one of the overhead TVs, inexplicably tuned to CNN rather than ETV. After 15 minutes Tamrat (my Ethiopian coworker) told me to go to the nurses’ station where they took my blood pressure and weight and again treated my chest pains nonchalantly. I was given a card with the number 22 on it and instructed to return to the waiting area/hallway.
     
    For two hours I waited among 50 coughing, sneezing Ethiopians to see the doctor. Finally, when it was my turn, the doctor asked me about my symptoms and listened to my chest. When Tamrat left to ask the office about payment, the doctor decided to ask me a series of personal, probing questions Ethiopians can’t help but ask when confronted with a captive ferangi (white person): Are you a worker or a volunteer? How long have you been married? Do you have children? Why have you been married seven years and do not have children? Where is your husband? What is he doing there?
     
    I felt like standing up on his desk and screaming: THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. FOR YOUR INFORMATION AND FOR THE INFORMATION OF EVERYONE IN THE COUNTRY, I DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN BECAUSE I CANNOT STAND THEM. I WOULD RATHER LOSE A LIMB THAN LACTATE. I AM ONLY ENDURING THIS ON THE OFF CHANCE YOU ARE GOING TO PRESCRIBE ME SOME VALIUM.
     
    After what seemed like an eternity, Tamrat returned and explained to the doctor in Amharic that my employer would pay because I didn’t have any cash. The doctor took out a photocopied sheet of paper and wrote, “lab”, “EKG” and “observation”. I told him there was no way in HELL I was going to stay overnight, that I would rather die of a heart attack. He scratched out the last word and sent me on my way.
     
    The first thing they wanted to do was the “labs”. I walked into the laboratory which smelled like urine and the technician grabbed two vials. I stood up and walked out. There is not a chance in hell that I would let a public hospital in East Africa stick me with a needle.
     
    The next day, I slept in and went to work about 11:00 thinking that the symptoms would pass. By 3:00 I was about to die: pains were coming every five minutes. I rallied my strength and drove myself to a private clinic near my office. The Israeli doctors gave me an exam, diagnosis, prescription and completed insurance forms and sent me on my way in less than an hour.
     
    A few days after beginning treatment and I am still hardly able to eat and experience excessive pain when I do. An American co-worker had the dickheaded comment, “well, if you wanted to lose weight this would be the way to do it”. It has been the week for dickheaded comments.
     
    So if you, by chance, find yourself in Addis Ababa with a health problem DO NOT go to St. Gabriel’s hospital, especially if you have a potentially life-threatening and time sensitive health problem. Ethiopians are the slowest people in the world and never treat anything as urgent. Consider yourself warned.
  10. Confection

    Got my order

    By Confection,

    After being carried from the Midwest to South Central (Asia), I nearly lost my order when Schwig's housekeeper threw it in the trash. Luckily it was salvaged before garbage pick-up.
     
    But it made it. I ordered large bottles of Queen of Sheba, Lady MacBeth, Persephone, Lolita and Embalming Fluid. There were also about 7 imps thrown in for free. I got Embalming Fluid smell unsniffed, but it turned out well: a little piney-limey on first application, but then it dried down to Body Shoppe's grapeseed soap. Not bad.
     
    However, the imps I am not to sure about: it seems that many of them seem like 1980's Coty imposters (Emeraude, anyone?). Perhaps the new scents are retro, but they do not seem as innovative as the ones rolled out two years ago when there seemed not to be such a frenzy to put out new scents.
     
    Not to offend, but this is my opinion. That's why I keep ordering the old standbys over and over.
  11. Confection

    Danger?

    By Confection,

    I just heard that there were two bombings this morning. Rather than being concerned, here I am still working on a project design. I was thinking the other day how I have totally become desensitized to what is happening around me. I rationalize that the bombings are only targeting the military or the government, not me. It is a strange strategy of acceptance and I wonder if it will change once I leave. I really hope so.
     
    (I totally work with those two guys in the last panel!)
  12. Confection
    There is a reason why you never hear the words “dentist” and “Africa” in the same sentence. There are few places in the world where you would be better off letting that rotten root fester than actually seeking professional help and pretty much the whole continent (except for South Africa and one hospital in Nairobi) qualifies.
     
    Let me start from the beginning: about a month and a half ago, I was lying on the couch one Sunday night, watching Dr. Phil, drinking a St. Georges and eating popcorn when I broke the back off one of my lower front teeth (which was cracked during a raspberry verenyi incident in 2004) by biting down on a kernel. Since I had been medevaced back to my cute little Tennessean dentist, Dr. Gregory, less than a month before for an abscessed tooth, I had little choice but to suck it up and visit a dentist in town.
     
    During the said abscessed tooth episode, which involved a lot of swelling, pain and visits to the dickhead South Asian dentist Dr. Raina (yeah, that’s right, I used your real name) who withheld information about treatment options, I was advised by an American working for a Christian aid agency about a Chinese dentist on Bole Road who did good work. Crumpled in my chair during the food security workshop from the pain, I decided I had nothing to lose by visiting Dr. Ling. Although she could do nothing to help me with my abscessed tooth except pull it (since a root canal had already been done) or “make a little window” to clean the roots by drilling into my jaw, she decided it was in everyone’s best interest to send me back to Dr. Gregory and promptly filled out my insurance paperwork (which Dr. Dickhead Raina refused to do).
     
    This episode solidified the bond between me and Dr. Ling. Inside I swore that if any other dental problem arose I would go to her.
     
    Back to the broken tooth—in August I went to see Dr. Ling who drilled down my two front teeth to little nubs before I knew what was happening or was able to ask for anesthesia. She then made impressions of my teeth, put in temporary (but nice looking) caps, and informed me that my new ceramic teeth would be back from China in a month. Those teeth came in last week and were installed. They looked good, but were a little too big. Dr. Ling told me to wait a week and see if I still thought they were too big and she would sand them down. That visit took place today.
     
    This morning I got up, threw on some jeans and got in the car to Bole. By 9:00 Dr. Ling had ground down the teeth and I was on my way. Looking in the rearview mirror, I realized a mistake had been made—there was a considerable gap between where my top and bottom teeth met in front. I thought about it for a while, got ready and went into the office. By 11:00 I was distraught. Here I had fucked up the only front teeth I would ever have-- I went back to Dr. Ling. She was reassuring, we would fix it, she told me. The next hour was the worst, and nearly the most painful, of my life.
     
    I have a high pain threshold: I have suffered peptic ulcers, burst ovarian cysts, and dry sockets and taken them all like a Pionerka. Something about this visit today made me squeal like a five year old. It took Dr. Ling about 35 minutes to drill the teeth, crack the ceramic, reassure me, shoot me up with anesthesia, and do some more drilling. I screamed, I cried, I squirmed, I bled. I was ashamed of myself for acting like such a big baby. I was mad because I was having this done in East Africa instead of East Tennessee. After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Ling took impressions and put in temporary caps. I decided there was no way I could work for the rest of the day and packed it up to come home. Here at my dining room table, four hours later, my jaw and teeth are still aching. The pain and the humiliation of the whole day ranks only behind the riots in 2006 and losing my job three years ago. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Never see a dentist in Africa, NEVER.
     
    Nothing left to do but light up a sheesha and have some wine.
  13. Confection

    Why I can't blog

    By Confection,

    Ethiopia has the lowest number of cell phone subscribers in Africa.
     
    The country where my husband is has the lowest number of internet subscribers. While what is wrong with Liberia might be easily explained by years of war that decimated the infrastructure, Ethiopia (besides a few skirmishes with Eritrea) has not seen the conflict on the scale of say, Sierra Leone. No, the situation in Abyssinia comes down to three letters: ETC. Ethiopia Telecom will not allow competition--all of the telecommunications systems go through the government. This is why it took four months for my employer to take pity on me and give me the "consultant" SIM card (the whole time I was in country there were none available and ETC refused to issue new ones) and why, as I write now, I am on a slow dial-up.
     
    The government shut down Skype, blogspot.com, and streaming video seems at least three decades away.
     
    Last week the internet, cell phones and land lines shut down for the whole day. My Ethiopian colleagues thought Somalia had invaded. After living in Afghanistan, I believed them.
     
    So, as you all know, Somalia did not invade. However, after this post I this blog might be shut down.
  14. Confection

    When Monkeys Attack

    By Confection,

    The Culprit
     
    Here I was, Saturday morning, minding my own business, when I spotted something gray in my front yard. Thinking it was another cat trying to pop a squat in my marigolds, I ran outside. It was a monkey. I saw the first couple of monkeys two weeks ago. They were walking along the front wall of my yard, not bothering anything.
     
    I live in the capital of Ethiopia. I live in the city. I am truly puzzled as to how these primates are making their way into my yard. Moreover, I am pissed off that the little motherfuckers are eating my flowers.
     
    I used to like monkeys--buy pyjamas with monkeys on them, subscribe to Monkey Wire news alerts, enjoy looking at them in zoos--but when they start destroying my property by pulling up plants whose seeds my husband brought from China, well, a monkey ass is going to get a hammer thrown at it.
     
    It's on.
  15. Confection
    I love MSG. I think that people who decry its use are stupid and ill-informed. I worked in a Chinese restaurant throughout high school and college, and bloated customers would saunter in and order entrees with NO MSG and then order fried rice. "But the fried rice has MSG", I'd explain; they didn't care, "a little wouldn't hurt".
     
    To this day, all I can say in Mandarin is "bu no wei jin"--no MSG.
     
    At long last, I AM VINDICATED. Today's NYT has an article about MSG:
     
    March 5, 2008
    Yes, MSG, the Secret Behind the Savor
    By JULIA MOSKIN
    IN 1968 a Chinese-American physician wrote a rather lighthearted letter to The New England Journal of Medicine. He had experienced numbness, palpitations and weakness after eating in Chinese restaurants in the United States, and wondered whether the monosodium glutamate used by cooks here (and then rarely used by cooks in China) might be to blame.
     
    The consequences for the restaurant business, the food industry and American consumers were immediate and enormous. MSG, a common flavor enhancer and preservative used since the 1950s, was tagged as a toxin, removed from commercial baby food and generally driven underground by a new movement toward natural, whole foods.
     
    Even now, after “Chinese restaurant syndrome” has been thoroughly debunked (virtually all studies since then confirm that monosodium glutamate in normal concentrations has no effect on the overwhelming majority of people), the ingredient has a stigma that will not go away.
     
     
    Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go boot up for my daily dose of MSG.
  16. Confection
    The good news: I am leaving Afghanistan (Praise be to Allah).
     
    The bad news: I am going here.
     
    How come war gotta be declared less than ten days after I get my new job?
     
    So over the next few weeks, I am going to wrap up my time here in Afghanistan and wrap up this blog with all the things I meant to mention about this country, but haven't yet.
  17. Confection
    There is a place for proselytizing (arguably). Kabul, Afghanistan is not it.
     
     
    That whistling sound you will hear will be rockets heading for the Kabul Olympic Stadium:
     
     
     
    Potential For Riots/Demonstrations - Kabul. Institute of Asian Culture and Development (IACD) intend to despatch up to 2,000 South Korean nationals who have already been granted visas to enter Afghanistan. At least 60+ are already in country and the remainder are expected over the next week.
     
    Their aim is to hold Christian religious gatherings, the first at the Kabul Olympic stadium followed by a 5 km 'peace march' through Kabul on or around 5 Aug 06. They then plan to extend their religious activities to Mazar, Herat, Kandahar and Bamyan 7 Aug onwards. The IACD will initially be 'camping out' at the Kabul Olympic stadium.
     
    • Most security and NGO actors are taking the threat from these marches as potentially extremely serious as they could easily trigger a violent backlash from elements of the local community.
     
     
     

  18. Confection
    This is the account that one of my co-workers wrote who stayed behind the day of the riots. Damn, this makes my stomach turn and just makes me mad all over again.
     
     
     
    HRD Manager, account of the Monday, May 29, 2006 (Jawza 8, 1385) incident.
     
    The demonstration that I found out about only a few minutes earlier was becoming more intensified by 11:00 am which is why we decided to send the international staff home.
     
    To find out exactly what was happening, I took a rented car to Taimany where I faced a group of angry demonstrators on the 7th street. I returned to the office and asked Shah Mohammad to evacuate the office completely. Shoaib, Driver, and I accompanied the last two international staff to the International Guesthouse. On our way back to the office, we were caught in the middle of the demonstration in front of the Attorney General’s office. I asked Shoaib to take the car back to the guesthouse and I walked along the demonstrators to the office, pretending to be one of them. The demonstrators dismantled the security box in front of the Attorney General’s office and set it on fire in the middle of the road.
     
    When I came back to the office, I found that a small number of the staff had not left the office, including two female staff, from Admin and an income generation staff and her children (later I found out the two kindergarten teachers and a handful of kids were hiding in the kindergarten). I asked Ramazan, our Admin Assistant, who had also remained behind, to take them to a safe location. He took them through Kolola Pushta to a safe place before returning to the office.
     
    I, along with 14 other staff, stayed at the office during the looting and the fire. Those who had stayed behind did not to hesitate to protect the office. Their courageous actions saved much of the organization’s properties, assets and the entire adjacent building, about 50 rooms, along with furniture and equipments. They rescued more than 20 vehicles, 6 large generators, approximately 90 computers, 55 printers, 9 stores (containers) 2 of which were storage of fuel, oils and vehicle’s spare parts etc. The credit of having all the remaining stuff in our office goes to these people.
     
     
    We locked all the entrance doors to the office. The crowd was approaching from two sides: Kolola Pushta and Qala-I- Fathullah. I was in front of the transport gate which was locked from inside. I watch as their leader pointed to buildings to be attacked. They damaged the security box in front of WFP office (located next to the office). Next, they tried to attack our gate but the transport gate was too strong for them to break down so they moved on to join the crowd coming from Qala-i– Fathullah toward Shar-I- Naw, all the while breaking our windows around the corner. As this was happening, I managed to move to the other end of the building, in front of the mosque, watching them move away. When they cleared our building, I went back to the office and assured my colleagues that the mob was gone.
     
    At 12:30 the mob returned from Shar-I- Naw, and broke the wooden gates located in north side of the main office. Over 100 people raided the office in looting what they could and destroying the rest. Later, one of my colleagues told me that a gunman was standing next to the finance department, his head wrapped in a handkerchief. I soon realized that, even though we were doing our best, we could not resist them because they were a handful of people with guns among the crowd. I did not want to risk any of our colleagues’ lives. I though that they were a group of thieves, who would leave after they took what they wanted. I never thought that they would finish their action by setting the office on fire.
     
    I could hear the flames but was not able to see them. I kept looking all around to see where it was coming from. And suddenly there it was, all powerful and engulfing everything in its path. The steel bars on the windows, meant for protection, had now become an obstacle against salvaging equipments.
     
    The fire was soon raging out of control and no matter how hard we tried we could not put it out. The staff was looking to me for guidance, but I was concerned for their safety. I had to tell them to back away. Watching the office burn was like watching my own home burn and not be able to do anything about it. This will be one of the worst memories that I will carry through life; the office bunt as I looked on helplessly.
     
    While we were fighting the fire, one of the looters was stealing a laptop and a DVD player but was not able to go through the main gate which was on fire. Assuming we too were looters, he asked us for help over the western wall. We gave him a hand and more before we locked him up in the transport department.
     
    Another young looter who was throwing items to his gang from the kindergarten roof , was apprehended by one of our colleagues and joined the other looter at our makeshift jail.
     
    Three invaders entered the car park and tried to steal a Corolla when Yama, our Mechanic, ran after them and told to get out of the car. They found the car first and that there are plenty more for him to choose from. At this point Yama reached in through the open window and pulled out of the driver. A group of our staff joined him and rescued the car. Yama ceased another car-thief who told him that he was a staff member. He joined the rest at the transport department.
     
    Nasim, the Head of IT and Communication, did his best to save the finance department’s server from, but despite his heroic act that brought him to a few feet from the fire, he was not able to save the server.
     
    Nasim was fighting the fire off from the generators and three guards were fighting the fire away from the next building. I sent the cars out of the office, we carried the damaged cars away from the wall of the burned building and succeeded to pull out one the generators but we couldn’t take out the second one.
     
    To prevent the spread of the fire to the next building we pulled out all the cloths and furniture from the office’s shop. I asked the staff to take out all remaining materials out of the office. We took out 14 laptops, 2 satellite phones, 1 IT Server, radio sets and computers and put them all in a car which driver Hanif took to Mr. Ebadi’s house who is an employee of the Parwan office; we sent 8 cars to Shir’s house.
     
    I asked Ehsan and Satar, a Guard, to keep a watch from the Kindergarten’s roof and I went outside to stand by the mosque next to the office. I watched as a small group of looters returned back from Haji Yaqoob square and broke into the reception. I followed them and with the help of a group of our staff ceased them. Our staff continued their heroic acts and after throwing the mob out of the reception and removed a couch that they had set on the fire. It was timely act that protected the second building and offices from the fire.
     
    The Fire Department refused to get involved without protection. So we all watched as our dear home burnt.
     
    1. Shir, Driver; took 8 vehicles and some other stuff to his house, resisted the looters on the street and retuned them back to THE OFFICE in good condition.
    2. Yama, Assistant Mechanic, beside saving a laptop and a VCD player that he took from the looters, he saved 3 vehicles by taking them out of the office.
    3. Humayon, Guard; despite his disability, he acted bravely.
    4. Ihsanullah, managed to grab a camera from a looter and take pictures of the office while burning.
    5. Shafi, Guard, he acted bravely
    6. Satar, Guard, he acted bravely and he was very active and became very tired in that day
    7. Abdul Wahab, Guard; he acted bravely.
    8. Khoja Sayed Jan, he acted bravely by pushing back the rioters from reception.
    9. Baseer, Mechanic, took coaster van full of shop stuff and some other things for safe keeping
    10. Shoaib driver; he acted bravely
    11. Fazel Guard he acted bravely
    12. Nasim, Head of IT and Communications, did his best to save properties and collected about 13 laptops, sat phones, radio sets and a few desktops and put them in a car and took to Mr. Ebadi’s house, we received it back in good condition
    13. Wahab Mechanic; he acted bravely and saved a vehicle by taking it for safe keeping during the riot
    14. Ramazan; he took Samira, Misha and Ferozan with her children from the office to their houses in very bad condition. Also he assisted others in pushing back the rioters from reception.
     
    1. Sayed Khalil
    2. Fazel Haq
    3. Musharaf driver
    4. Hanif driver
    5. Abdul Sabor
    6. Karim,
    7. Hafiz
    8. Eng Sulaiman
  19. Confection
    Dear Oprah,
     
    I will preface this letter by saying that I appreciate your attention to what is going on in Afghanistan and I understand that you would like to squeeze every last drop of tear-jerking sympathy from the American people over 9/11 to increase your ratings. After all, you are a businesswoman; I appreciate that.
     
    But the purpose of this letter is to inform you of what your staff has been doing to my staff over the past week. Approximately five days ago someone from Harpo contacted one of my employees--who happens to speak Persian--and asked her to go out and videotape some Afghan widows for a "surprise" story for some 9/11 widows who support said Afghan widows. My employee, being a nice person (although somewhat of a milquetoast at times), kindly agreed and loaded up her video camera and one of our public relations staff and went out into one of the futher districts of the capital to get the "story" for your show.
     
    After four hours of sitting in the sun and prodding these poor, bashful Afghan widows to talk about how they feel about the donation these 9/11 widows gave to them, my employee returned with the tape. We had no problem doing the filming, although it took away from our busy schedules, because it is good publicity for our organization.
     
    However, once we finished taping, your staff realized that it would take too long to DHL the tape, so sending over a satellite feed was the only option--but NO--your staff would not pony up the grand for the uplink. Instead, Harpo asked one of the handful of expatriate staff members of this organization (who supports about 1000 Afghan staff) to take time out of her day to transcribe what the widows said. Your staff had to find out what the widows said first to see if it was "worth" the $1000 to send via satellite!
     
    After the tape was transcribed and your staff read the text, they proposed that my employee fly to fucking PAKISTAN to feed the tape because it would be "cheaper"! I am sorry, Oprah, but we have JOBS that involve helping the poor of Afghanistan to live in dignity and are not your lackeys who can drop everything and fly to Pakistan so you can get your story.
     
    But, no matter: you will get your tape. I almost broke BOTH my legs getting to the Embassy to hand the tape off to some guy going to Washington tonight (Musharaff had the roads blocked so I had to hustle). So the tape will be there by the time you tape on the 12th. You can thank me later. I just hope that the donors for our other $25 million worth of projects do not drop our funding for getting our reports in late.
     
    Sincerely,
     
    Confection
     
    P.S. I expect to be reimbursed for the postage.
  20. Confection

    When Monkeys Attack

    By Confection,

    The Culprit
     
    Here I was, Saturday morning, minding my own business, when I spotted something gray in my front yard. Thinking it was another cat trying to pop a squat in my marigolds, I ran outside. It was a monkey. I saw the first couple of monkeys two weeks ago. They were walking along the front wall of my yard, not bothering anything.
     
    I live in the capital of Ethiopia. I live in the city. I am truly puzzled as to how these primates are making their way into my yard. Moreover, I am pissed off that the little motherfuckers are eating my flowers.
     
    I used to like monkeys--buy pyjamas with monkeys on them, subscribe to Monkey Wire news alerts, enjoying looking at them in zoos--but when they start destroying my property by pulling up plants whose seeds my husband brought from China, well, a monkey ass is going to get a hammer thrown at it.
     
    It's on.
  21. Confection

    Floods

    By Confection,

    The excerpt below is from CNN. In Ethiopia we have had thousands of people stranded on high ground surrounded by water with crocodiles and poisoned snakes over the past two weeks. The US is only pledging 100K to help the people affected by the disaster, which is bullshit. I give money to MSF whenever there is a similar crisis--I suggest you do too.
     
     
     
    AMURIA DISTRICT, Uganda (AP) -- Aid agencies were appealing for millions of dollars Friday to help more than 1 million Africans affected by deadly floods that have swept across the continent.
     
    The United States planned to send $100,000 for Uganda -- one of the hardest hit countries -- and Europe announced more than $15 million in aid for flood victims across 17 countries. The floods have killed at least 200 people and displaced hundreds of thousands since the summer in central and eastern Africa.
     
    "If we don't get food people will die in this place," Francis Aruo, 28, told The Associated Press in eastern Uganda, one of the hardest-hit regions of Africa. "All our crops are rotten."
     
    The United Nations asked for $43 million for Uganda, where 50 people have died. Theophane Nikyema, U.N. Humanitarian coordinator for Uganda, said the money will help address the "devastation left behind by the rising tide of water."
     
    The European Commission is planning to send $15.45 million in humanitarian aid to help flood victims, said Louis Michel, the European Commissioner for Development and Humanitarian Aid. The United States was sending $100,000 for Uganda, said Steven Browning, the country's U.S. ambassador.
     
    In Uganda's Amuria District, which was put under a state of emergency this week, more than 500 people were taking shelter in a seven-room schoolhouse, which was meant to open for a new term last week.
     
    "It's a struggle for accommodations," said Gilbert Omeke, the school's head teacher. "Some people are fighting for space. I have designated one classroom for expectant mothers and the elderly but so many more don't find space."
     
    UNICEF was distributing basic disease-prevention kits, including plastic sheeting and water purification tablets, but medical officials said illnesses were spreading.
     
    Florence Asega, a nurse at the closest health clinic to the school, some three miles away, said children were increasingly suffering from malaria and diarrhea.
     
    "In the cramped, wet conditions coughs and infections spread quickly," she added.
     
    In nearby Katakwi District, latrines were overflowing and hundreds of mud huts had collapsed. The nearest World Food Program distribution site was nearly four miles away, through waist-high floodwater.
     
    Aruo has made the journey twice so far, returning with 65 pounds of maize, groundnuts and cooking oil for his wife and three children.
     
    "It's a very tedious journey because it is water the whole way, the food is very heavy and some people have to leave some behind because they can't carry it," he said.
  22. Confection
    A two hour flight and I am in another universe. Stepping off the plane, I remembered the first time I ever arrived at the Almaty International Airport: June 15, 1999, 4:30am. Getting off the flight from Istanbul, still hung over from my “last night in America” drinking binge with my college friend Dan, I had no idea what I was about to get myself into. I didn’t realize that the two years I had pledged to spend in Kazakhstan would turn into five, that less than 24 hours before I had met my future husband in the elevator of a twenty-storey hotel blocks from the Sears Tower, or that what I was about to do would change the course of my life.
     
    Back in 2006, I am jumping over deported Koreans (see post below) to be first off the bus to Passport Control (I am an expert at this) and then on to baggage claim. Aigul is there to meet us with her new 17-year-old girlfriend. My husband and I hop into her Neva and drive to the city. I was only there last year, but so much has changed. There are new apartment blocks on literally every corner, supermarkets are almost outnumbering the mom-and-pop shops and there are very few kiosks. Soviet and Russian cars are predominated by Lexuses, Hondas and Toyotas; Kazakhstanis are doing well. I couldn’t help but think about how far this sparsely populated country had come since the fall of the Soviet Union and since the first time I came seven years ago.
     
    Seven years ago the hotel rooms had communal toilets and hot water for only two hours a day; there were only two supermarkets in town, Rossei and Ramstore; nobody wore deodorant and the only types of buildings were the constructivist Soviet-era blocks. All of the changes—the stylish young people, lack of beggars, consistent electricity and water, availability of every consumer product imaginable—made me think about Afghanistan. I wish that I could travel back in time to that moment in the early 1980’s when the CIA decided to intervene to make Afghanistan “the Soviet Union’s Vietnam”. I wish that I could somehow have convinced the US government to stop arming the Mujahadeen and fomenting the insurgency. Then I think about how things might have been. When the Soviets occupied Kabul there were tramvais. The thought of a tramvai (trolley) on the streets of Kabul, where cars can now barely go, blows my mind. They built apartment blocks, the set up infrastructure; there were hospitals, schools, electricity. I am by no means excusing the horrible atrocities that the Soviets committed against the Afghan people (land mines shaped like dolls, for example), but maybe, just maybe, all of the problems the world is facing with terrorism could have been mitigated if the Soviets had stayed.
     
    I realize that there are a lot of ramifications from this line of thinking--the war in Afghanistan clearly had implications for the fall of the Soviet Union—but looking at a place like Kazakhstan, and more appropriately, Tajikistan, makes me wonder what might have happened. There is something to be said for authoritative development.
  23. Confection
    Yes, indeed: Fuck the World.
     
    I have been really pissy today with due cause: some of the stuff which was not stolen in the riots has since gone missing although we packed it up and brought it to the new house ourselves. My brand spanking new mandolin (no Shaker pie any time soon), brand new frying pan and knives. All imported from the US, of course. Fucking brilliant that I got my shipment from the states exactly four days before the riots. Allowing me time to unpack everything and lay it out in neat little rows for hoodlum Spandi kids to get their grubby mits on after they busted through my front door.
     
    Adding to the irritation is work. There is a certain foreigner with whom I work who is about to find out what time it is. Maybe I am placing all of my frustration on her, but other people I work with are corroborating my assumptions and it is not long before there will be a mutiny. She (being in a position of authority higher than me) hired her friend for a senior expatriate position, takes the credit for every time I bust my ass and turn out something extraordinary, alienates the Afghan staff and talks shit about them when they are not around, and has personally attacked me. What can I do?
     
    So, fuck the world. At least this anger is fueling three mile runs after work.
  24. Confection
    It always starts innocently enough.
     
    Last Sunday my husband, cat and I were enjoying a sunny day in the yard. I was slightly hungover from the five gin and tonics I had consumed during the course of our Thanksgiving dinner and subsequent Thanksgiving trip to the Platinum nightclub the night before and thought that lying around in the hammock would be a good way to recover. We had only been outside for about ten minutes when my husband yelled, “sweetie, look!” and I turned around to see this on the wall behind me:
     
     

     
     
     
     
     
     
    Alright, it was actually more like this:
     

     
    Who knows how long the evil primate had been surveilling us. It had something furry and long-dead in its hand, which it threw down on the ground and came after us, its teeth bared. We sprung up and ran towards the porch and the front door. (A girl I went to high school with died from monkey poo--I shit you not and no pun intended.) Thinking quickly, my husband grabbed Snega (our cat) and threw it at the rabid monkey, but it was not deterred. It came closer and my husband picked one a metal chair over his head ready to knock the living monkey shit out of it. It scampered up one of the porch columns to a monkey friend waiting on the roof (a coordinated attack).
     
    After the narrow escape we went over to examine the dead furry thing. It was a baby monkey. Abush, our guard, picked the carcass up with a stick and flung it at the monkey who then jumped over the neighbors’ fence.
     
    So, what was learned from this experience?
    1. Monkeys will rip your face off without notice or provocation;
    2. Monkeys are sneaky little bastards and surprisingly quiet;
    3. Chucking white cats at monkeys will not save you (however, cats of other colors have not been field tested and may prove effective);
    4. If you are hungover from drinking too much gin the night before you are better off staying in bed.
     
    Ah, the excitement of living in Africa…
  25. Confection

    North and South

    By Confection,

    Caliente!
     
    The husband and I were reluctantly stuck in Dubai for Christmas Eve and Christmas on our way back to Afghanistan because the Kabul airport was closed due to snow. My husband was recuperating from a nasty bout of food poisoning brought on by some questionable pork fried rice consumed in Thailand, but we decided to venture out to the Diera City Center mall anyway. (Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I fucking HATE Dubai. There is nothing to do but troll the malls while trying to suppress the DTs brought on by the lack of alcohol, save for the $8 cans of Heineken at the overpriced hotels).
     
    Bored, with nothing but a spirit-free hotel room or more mall, we decided to go see a movie. I chose Babel, not because the hottest man in the world is in it, but because I supposed it would be a thought-provoking drama about bridging cultural differences between the “developed” North and “underdeveloped” South. Boy, was I wrong.
     
    Now, I saw the toned-down “Arab version” which left out a lot of nudity, but kept in the scene where the 12-year-old Moroccan boy beats off to his 10-year-old sister and where the estranged couple reunites over a bed pan, and what was the relevance of the deaf Japanese girl trying to have her dentist molest her? It just seemed way too long, too sexualized and too—vapid. The movie just reinforced streotypes. There was no real look at issues, no examination of why the North African police beat suspects or why Americans automatically assume that any act of violence in a Muslim country is assumed to be terrorism, it was just three hours of filler with no point.
     
    (However, I do have a point.)
     
    As we left the theater, I asked my husband, “what did we learn from this?” He replied, “never to let you pick a movie again?” No. The lesson is: brown people get fucked, while white people with the right passports will get their stupid asses saved in any situation.
     
    And being in the Dubai airport brought this all home. While my husband and I could hop in a cab and head to the Sheraton for the night, the Afghans waiting on the same flight had to sleep on the concrete floor of the airport. They had no visas, no money, no food, no family in UAE to help them. The airline (Kam Air, you fucking bitches!) only gave these 150-plus Afghans food coupons on the THIRD DAY after the flight was cancelled. Most of them were being deported for being in the Emirates illegally.
     
    When will the media really look at how the rest of the world lives? When will films examine all the things that we white, privileged folk take for granted? Probably not soon, and Hollywood has just shown us that. While critics rave about the “serious drama” about “real issues” in movies like Babel, I just roll my eyes.
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