Forgiving Rashid Kruschev
There are many reasons one will hit the ground in sheer terror in Afghanistan. Gun shots, rocket fire, Kuchi dogs, Taliban utility vehicles, would-be kidnappers or in my friend Rashid Kruschev’s case, throwing a magnesium "flare" into your outdoor toilet and blowing it sky high.
Foreigners here live under the constant threat that Someone Is Trying To Kill You. This is usually an external threat from any one of the numerous enclaves of Islamic militants, criminals, drug gangs, mullahs or just general shitheads that plague the landscape of this dustbowl. We live under security rules not dissimilar from a prison-slash-convent and must, at all times, lock our doors, cover our heads, stay off the streets and keep the bunker full of water, fuel, tinned food and vodka.
It is therefore, rather strange, to go to expat party only to be blown up by fellow expat. Rashid, Rashid, Rashid… what were you thinking?
So there we are, mud toilet blown sky high, all windows blown out, an angry mob gathering in the street, police, army and UN protection unit all converging on a scene that should have by rights been a pant-filling experience. Thankfully for some of us, the deafening explosion was more cause for amusement that animosity. That said, Rashid has kissed a few friends goodbye over this one who insist he is an Arse. Dear friends, please forgive our young friend. He was only trying to brighten up an otherwise dull party. He didn’t mean to cause an explosion the size of a Russian rocket or raise an enraged mob outside the front gates.
Sadly, in true karmic retribution, the magnesium flare-cum-bomb incident has now bitten Rashid on his bum. After a Loya Jirga with his neighbours, he has been banned from throwing any more parties. It seems they have been long discontent with his fiestas and the bomb incident the final straw to break the donkey’s back, so to speak. Interestingly, upon examination, it wasn’t actually the bomb that they objected to. Rather it was the “sound of women’s laughter” that they so loathed and therefore demanded that he henceforth cease from all forms of social entertainment.
In this country, there is only one thing worse than war, bombs, drugs, guns and violence. There is only one thing that is so loathsome to society, so solely responsible for the destruction of values and morals, and that, dear reader, is the light giggle of a girl.
[Despite its absurdity, I dare not laugh about this one for fear my head will end up being roasted on kabob stick somewhere down Butcher’s Lane.]
Foreigners here live under the constant threat that Someone Is Trying To Kill You. This is usually an external threat from any one of the numerous enclaves of Islamic militants, criminals, drug gangs, mullahs or just general shitheads that plague the landscape of this dustbowl. We live under security rules not dissimilar from a prison-slash-convent and must, at all times, lock our doors, cover our heads, stay off the streets and keep the bunker full of water, fuel, tinned food and vodka.
It is therefore, rather strange, to go to expat party only to be blown up by fellow expat. Rashid, Rashid, Rashid… what were you thinking?
So there we are, mud toilet blown sky high, all windows blown out, an angry mob gathering in the street, police, army and UN protection unit all converging on a scene that should have by rights been a pant-filling experience. Thankfully for some of us, the deafening explosion was more cause for amusement that animosity. That said, Rashid has kissed a few friends goodbye over this one who insist he is an Arse. Dear friends, please forgive our young friend. He was only trying to brighten up an otherwise dull party. He didn’t mean to cause an explosion the size of a Russian rocket or raise an enraged mob outside the front gates.
Sadly, in true karmic retribution, the magnesium flare-cum-bomb incident has now bitten Rashid on his bum. After a Loya Jirga with his neighbours, he has been banned from throwing any more parties. It seems they have been long discontent with his fiestas and the bomb incident the final straw to break the donkey’s back, so to speak. Interestingly, upon examination, it wasn’t actually the bomb that they objected to. Rather it was the “sound of women’s laughter” that they so loathed and therefore demanded that he henceforth cease from all forms of social entertainment.
In this country, there is only one thing worse than war, bombs, drugs, guns and violence. There is only one thing that is so loathsome to society, so solely responsible for the destruction of values and morals, and that, dear reader, is the light giggle of a girl.
[Despite its absurdity, I dare not laugh about this one for fear my head will end up being roasted on kabob stick somewhere down Butcher’s Lane.]
posted by Emira Shafiqa at 12:42 pm
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