Leaving Kabul

Gee it’s good to be back home,
Home is where I wanna be.

Great lines from Simon and Garfunkle. I’m not quite home yet, but I have completed hopefully the most difficult leg of the journey – checking in and getting through customs in Kabul. We were late departing for the airport as my colleague was delayed returning from souvenir shopping because the roads of Kabul were simply closed to allow someone important to get to the airport. Traffic stood still for 30 minutes throughout the city so that the important one could travel on the roads without the risk of an incident. (No one here ever talks about security or refers directly to the actual risks). Just before we arrived at the airport building we were shepparded off the main road into a cul-de-sac by military officer with a large gun.

Our driver is a local employee of my company, but speaks little English so could not explain to us what was happening. The airport was still out of sight, but we pulled up at an abandoned bombed out building next to which there was a bright white adapted freight container, but I could not tell what was going on inside. The next thing I new, the driver jumped out of the car and started dragging my luggage over to the container. I quickly jumped out and followed only to have to open up my suitcase for a very cursory search – the kind of search that they have put in place because it was requested by a certain foreign government, but which has no impact whatsoever on security. After wrinkling the first layer of my carefully packed suitcase, they waved me on and the driver helped me bring my luggage back to the car. My colleague, who took this opportunity to organize his luggage, was not even searched.

As we pulled out of the cul-de-sac and attempted to rejoin the road to the airport another gun stopped us and told us we could not proceed. We watched the driver debate the officer while UN vehicles and even taxis drove by. I guess that if you are not a known entity, they do not want to let your vehicle anywhere near a good target like the airport. Finally the driver must have appealed to the officer’s good nature (or ego) because he waved us on.

After collecting our bags from the car and paying the exit tax ($10) we had to wait at the entrance into the airport building as the guards held up an arm blocking the path of every expat, while letting all Afghanis enter the building. When an American in front of me complained, he was told that they were all going to Heart (in the NW of Afghanistan). Surprisingly, when we were finally allowed in there was a long line of Afghanis in the line for Dubai. I think it was their way to pay back the expats a little.

My colleague was then pulled out of line to have his bags searched by customs. The customs officer whispered in his ear, “give me five dollar”. He refused and waited patiently while the officer dug through his things. Finally we got up to the counter to check in. They ask us to identify our names on a printout. As we went through the pages of the list and did not find our names, our concern increased. Finally the airline attendant just waved us through and handed us boarding passes. Our luggage was tossed onto a conveyer belt, without being tagged!

Immigration was comparatively straight forward, but then we needed to go through metal detectors which were not working (either because there is no electricity and the airport is running on generator, or because they just don’t work). They were patting people down and searching their bags by hand. I was taken into a private tiny dark dingy room with dust-stained walls to be patted down by a woman. Women’s privacy is carefully guarded here.

Finally I made it into the waiting room which has no heat, and only half of the room is lit by florescent light, with the other half in total darkness. I am waiting to board an Ariana Airlines flight. The nickname for Ariana is inshallah airlines – roughly translated as God’s Will Airlines.