27. Jalalabad Trip

I have just returned from an amazing trip to Jalalabad. When I first found out that I would be visiting this city, I was filled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, I was so excited to finally be able to see the city that my mother always spoke about. All her childhood memories were filled with stories of the winters she spent in this warm village with lush green fields around. But on the other hand, I couldn't ignore this little voice in my head reminding me of all the horror stories I've recently heard about how dangerous the road to Jalalabad is and how things are so volatile there. I chose to push this voice to the back of my mind and boarded yet another bus with my entire crew. At one point, I remember hearing stories of people being on the road for 6 to 8 hours, treking over dangerous terrain and dodging gun battles on the way. To make things worse, some of my co-workers told me that kidnappings on this road were very common. But in the spirit of all my other decisions in this country I decided if something were to happen to me, it was meant to happen. We grabbed some lunch and headed off through the most breathtaking landscape I have ever seen. Majestic mountains surrounded us on both sides as we drove alongside the river. I tried to snap some pictures along the way, but no camera in the world could capture the magnificence of the scenery. For some reason, seeing the extreme natural beauty of this country brings me so much more closer to my spiritual side. I have taken enough Geology courses to know how these natural formations occur but I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the fact that only God could design this. 

As we approached Jalalabad, I could already see lush green fields on both sides of the road. I could see groups of men and children tending to their fields. I looked to the side of the road and saw a sign that said "Jalalabad -- 5 km". I couldn't believe we had already made it. We hadn't even been on the road for a full 3 hours. Where was all the rugged terrain and gun battles I had been warned about? We had traveled on the smoothest road I've seen in Afghanistan. The only time we ran into anything remotely worrisome was when two cars collided with each other and a massive crowd gathered around us to witness the argument going on between the two drivers. As we turned into Jalalabad, I noticed the streets were filled with people walking slowly with a look on their faces that only people who have no worries in life have. Children's laughter filled the air and fruit stands lined both sides of the lane. 

The door to our bus suddenly flew open and a couple of our crew members jumped out quickly. I asked what was going on and our security guard, Omid, announced that they were going to buy sugar cane. I looked over and saw stand after stand of sugar cane. I had heard a lot about this delicacy but had never had the chance to taste it. When Qais, our producer, returned with a huge bag of cut up sugar cane, everyone on the bus grabbed for it. I couldn't believe how enthusiastic everyone was to have some. Walid, our photographer, offered Trudi and I some and we each grabbed a couple of pieces. It was very rough. As I bit into it, I realized I might be doing something wrong because my teeth got stuck in it. I looked over at Walid and he explained that I should just chew at it until the juices start flowing. I did as instructed and my mouth was immediately filled with the sweetest juice I had ever tasted. Although I have a major sweet tooth, this juice was a bit too sweet for me. I looked around the bus and saw how everyone was enjoying it and so I didn't want to be rude by announcing that I wasn't overly in love with it. I looked over at Trudi who was still struggling with her piece. I couldn't help but laugh at her. She always tells me that she feels like the "purple caterpillar" because she is the only obviously western looking member of our team. And at this moment she was as purple as I have ever seen her. 

I couldn't help but notice the clean paved roads and the lack of congestion on the streets. The air quality was amazing. And everywhere I looked I was surrounded by green fields. I hadn't seen any greenery in so long that it was just breathtaking. The people on the streets looked so happy and peaceful. As much as I was happy for them, my heart was breaking for Kabul. With its congestion, dust, rubble, destruction, air filled with fumes and smog, its no wonder that none of its citizens have the same peaceful look on their faces. We pulled into the driveway of Spinghar Hotel and I was pleasantly surprised to see how beautiful the gardens outside it looked. They were immaculately landscaped and we were surrounded by orange blossoms. I immediately opened the bus window and took a deep breath. The fragrance of the orange blossoms was overwhelming. As we stepped off the bus, I couldn't help but notice how pleasant the outside of the hotel looked. From my view point, it looked like luxury compared to our accommodations on our last trip to Mazar. But as I went inside and looked at the rooms they were offering us, I realized that I was wrong. The rooms were cold and dark and we all had to share a bathroom. Trudi suggested that the two of us go to a guesthouse down the road called The Taj. She had stayed there in her previous visit and said it was much more comfortable. I decided to take Walid with us because I was nervous about two women being alone in this foreign town. As we approached our guesthouse, I realized it was just another one of those ugly Pakistani "poppy mansions". But inside, was as close to 5 star as were were going to get. The rooms were clean and warm and we each had our own private functioning bathroom. I couldn't have asked for more. We each took a bit of a nap and woke up around 7 PM. The car came and picked us up and drove us to meet the rest of the group at a restaurant near Pul BeSood. There were so many neon lights flashing and trees around that it sort of resembled the boardwalk in Santa Cruz. There was a massive river running alongside it where fresh fish was caught and cooked right there for us. We were given a private room where a table cloth was placed on the floor in front of us and we all gathered around it to eat, traditional style. We had the best chicken and fish that I have ever tasted. 

After dinner we traveled back to the Spinghar hotel for a briefing session on tomorrow's shoot. Unfortunately, we still didn't have all our approvals so all our plans were tentative. The next morning, I woke up around 8 AM and still had no definite confirmation on our production schedule, so I decided to take a walk out to the fields behind our hotel. I took Walid with me. He is our staff photographer. I have grown really fond of him and the way he explains things to me. We had a nice leisurely walk where we were greeted by the people working in the fields. They would stop and explain what they were doing and what they were growing. They were just as fascinated by me as I was by them. The men had such strong features, the children laughed and played with no worries, the women helped out in their own way but kept in the shadows. Some of the farmers gave us some carrots from their fields. They live a simple yet happy life. I couldn't get over the fact that it was so peaceful and serene...so opposite of what I had heard in the past. There was no sign of war or destruction. It seemed as if these people had lived this life for hundreds of years...undisturbed and unaffected by the modernization that has taken over the world. The weather was nice and warm. It seemed like it was the first time since my arrival in Afghanistan where I was only wearing one layer of clothes. The warmth of the sun was intoxicating and just made everything around me look more beautiful. 

As we were walking back from the fields, Walid stopped by a field of leaves and told me that people from Panjshir eat this type of leaf, which is called "Shaftal", or clover, in English. Since a branch of my family is from Panjshir, I figured this is as close as I was going to get to my roots, so I popped one in my mouth without considering that it hadn't been washed and started chewing. It was actually quite good. But as I swallowed, I realized that I'd be paying for this later. Which I did. I was sick for the rest of the day and all through the night. 

Later that day, since we still couldn't shoot, Farhad, our driver asked if we wanted to take a drive through town. A group of us got in the car and we headed out. We drove through the bustling city center and out through some more fields. We ended up at a mosque where we were in the company of real live Taliban. Trudi was hiding down low on her seat because it was a bit unnerving but honestly I found it quite exciting. I have always had a fascination with these men and I couldn't believe I was there amongst them. Aside from some dirty looks, peering in through out car window and circling us with 4 deep on their motorbikes, they didn't bother us at all. The guys in our group went inside the mosque and prayed. We took off immediately after they returned. On our way back, I saw a group of women and children hitch hiking on the side of the road. They had bags of wood on their head that they had collected to make a fire. I asked the guys how they were going to get home if no one gave them a ride. They told me that they would end up having to walk. As much as I tried, I couldn't get that out of my head. So I asked our driver Farhad to turn around. We couldn't give them a lift because we had no room, but I gave them enough money to catch a taxi and get some food. They prayed for me and we took off. I know it wasn't much but I just couldn't stand the thought of them being stranded, hungry, and alone in the dark. 

When we got back to the "city center", we were making our way down the one and only main road that Jalabad has when a group of about 200 men (old and young) started running toward our car with very little warning.  As with all such experiences where one thinks they are about to experience a near death experience, everything slowed down and turned into a slow motion visual of us being charged by this mob.  I looked down to see Trudi curled up in the foot of the seat, hiding.  Just as I was about to start my traditional ritual of asking for forgiveness for all my sins, customary to all near death experiences, I saw the crowd rush past us and down the main thoroughfare.  Our driver, who also looked more grayish then he had a few minutes ago, turned the radio on just in time to hear the broadcaster announce the breaking news that the Afghanistan Cricket team had succeed in beating UAE in the Cricket Finals and after beating Ireland, Scotland, the USA and this last team, had secured its place in the World Cup. Within minutes, the streets of Jalalabad was filled with the sounds of celebratory cheering and chants of  "Afghanistan - Zinda Bad" (Long Live Afghanistan). It was an amazing (and a little unsettling) experience to be a part of. It's fascinating how sports can unite a country and give it so much to cheer about. 

Earlier, that day, as were hanging out at the Spinghar Hotel, Trudi and I decided to take a walk around the grounds. We saw two old women sitting in a garden toward the back of the property. There were children playing in the field around them as they chatted and sipped tea. I asked Trudi if she wanted to go and join them. She of course said yes. So we walked over. I asked them if it was OK to join them. They graciously offered us seats on their carpet. We had such a pleasant afternoon sitting and talking to them. They had some interesting stories to share with us about their lives in Jalalabad and all they had seen in their lifetimes. They were the nicest people I had ever met. They reminded me of my grandmother and her friends. Their lives were so simple and they were genuinely happy to be where they were. They had no worries. They had no desire to leave their village and go abroad. They told me there is nowhere better in this world that their own Jalalabad. It was so uplifting to see how connected they were with their land. At that point, I could honestly say that I agreed with them 100%. 

The next day, we arrived at the location of our shoot. Words cannot describe the beauty of this place. I felt like I was in a movie. We were surrounded by majestic mountains. Everywhere I turned, it was just endless scenes of nature and beauty. We watched as the guys set up and engaged in a rock throwing competition. As we waited for the ANA (Afghan National Army) to arrive and watched the guys play this silly game, I mentioned to Trudi, "This has got to be the only place in the world, when given the choice to hang out with two pretty ladies or rock throwing, the guys choose rock throwing." The shoot went very well, except for the fact that the ANA helicopters never made it. We decided to finish up the next day. 

That night we all went to bed early and woke up fresh the next morning. As we arrived back on location, I couldn't help but notice how windy it had gotten all of a sudden. We had heard that there was a snow storm in Kabul so figured it was the wind from that storm that had engulfed us. When the Helicopters finally arrived, I seemed to have miscalculated how close to me they would land so I ended up getting caught in its tidal wave of sand. I was OK until I felt my feet lift off the ground. Then I began to panic. I turned my head which was a bad move as all the sand entered my eyes, my mouth, my ears, my hair. Living in Afghanistan, I often thinking about the different ways I might meet my death, but death by being sucked into the propellers of a helicopter was not one of them.  Just as I was about to submit to the idea of meeting my death in this most unglamorous manner, Omid, my guardian angel security guard appeared out of nowhere and grabbed hold of me and pulled me back down to the ground. When the propellers of the helicopters turned off, we made our way down, just to be greeted by Trudi laughing at me. I was so distraught, but honestly, if I was in her place, I would be laughing too. I know I won't be able to live down this story for a while. 

We finished the shooting and managed to capture some amazing footage. Trudi and Walid decided to return to Kabul in the Helicopters but I stayed behind. On our way out of Jalalabad, we stopped in the town of Daronta which is known for its fresh water fish and ordered some for lunch to take with us. To say this fish was delicious just doesn't do it justice. It was probably the tastiest fish I have ever had in my life. It just melted in my mouth. I decided its worth it to just come back to Jalalabad on a day trip to have fish. That's how good it was. We made it back to Kabul in under 3 hours and were greeting by the freezing chill. I already miss the warmth of Jalalabad. The hospitality of the people and the peacefulness of the land is something that will stay with me for as long as I live. 

The Bus - Road trip to Jalalabad

Sorobi - The Road to Jalalabad...doesn't look very dangerous to me.

Mahi Par - on the outskirts of Kabul.

Poor Donkey - What welcomed us to Jalalabad.  

Dinner Time - Getting ready for a traditional style meal of Chicken and Fresh Fish just caught from the River outside.

The fields behind my guesthouse - heaven on earth.

Children start working in the fields at a really young age...but you could still see their child like mischief at work.

So much green.  

Donkey, hard at work. - this is a picture perfect scene.

More children in the fields.

The Carrot Farm

The best gift is that which comes from the earth.

Sunbathing - Afghan-style.

The billboards we made for this project were already up in Jalalabad.  So nice to see our work up like this.


The near death experience.

Rock throwing competition.

My favorite driver. 

Our Director - hard at work.

Getting some shade under the Production Umbrella.

Couldn't resist this photo op with our photographer. 
The landscape behind us was breathtaking.

Imagine praying here...with God's best work surrounding you.

The man with all the power.  He brought us the Army.

Our producer - who looks like he is 12. He's not.  Really.

The boys having fun.

On Day 3 - The wind from Kabul's storm had reached Jalalabad. 

We had to manually remove the tire tread the Humvey's left behind after every take. 

Hard at work.  Really.

Chillin' in Jbad

He was perched on the Dolley to add extra weight. Again, not 12.

The final shot - the Afghan National Army

Me in a Tank (or whatever this thing is called)

Caught in the sand storm as the Helicopter landed.
This went on to become quite a famous photo at my expense. 

 

Goodbye Jalalabad - Trudi and Walid taking off for Kabul.