24 SEPTEMBER 2007 – WAR AND PEACE

24 SEP 2007 – War and Peace

As I write this, there is a sense of peace in the air. I’m sitting on my patio, the sun has started to set, and the last bit of evening breeze has brought with it the evening outing of the kites. From my where I sit, at least a dozen kites made of brightly colored tissue paper and thin wood dowels can seen at various altitudes, spinning and diving. Some are engaged in a battle – an event involving string covered in fine bits of glass, the idea, to slice through the opponents string and send his kite floating to the ground like a leaf. Others are so high that at first glance it looks like a bird taking its chances with an airplane on its way in or out of Kabul International – but with further examination the bird doesn’t move, and I think it will probably take the better part of an hour to bring it back down to earth. The rapid fluttering of tissue paper as the kites catch the wind and the steady hum of the house generator five floors below are the only sounds I hear.

The breeze is warm, and of course with it comes the dust. Not a lot tonight, but enough to make the white keys of my iBook turn a grimy brown and give each keystroke the texture of super fine sandpaper. Nothing a little window cleaner and a Q-Tip can’t take care of though. A recent BBQ left behind a plastic outdoor table and a couple of chairs – after a few days nobody had claimed them so I took it upon myself to move them to my patio.

The peace and quiet. The aerial display. The warm breeze. The occasional mosquito. All of which might sound like a tropical vacation; and if I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it is…

A low-flying Russian Mi-8 helicopter quickly snaps me out of my tropical daydream, followed closely by a second. It usually means there is some kind of VIP movement, be it Karzai, or whoever. A couple weeks ago they flew low-level orbits around the city while the president of Iran was in town, before then it was the peace jirga with Pakistan. The green camouflage paint scheme tells me it’s military. So much for the sense of peace – I guess this is a war zone after all.

The warm breeze this evening is a nice surprise. The nights have been growing cooler and the days have gotten shorter over the past couple of weeks, and early morning rides to the airport have recently included a lightweight jacket, compliments of AirServ.

Kabul is nestled 5,800 feet above sea level in a basin at the foot of the Hindu Kush mountain range. The pollution is at times choking – cars, busses, and trucks that should have been scraped years ago continue to chug along, many spewing out clouds of black diesel exhaust. Mountains on nearly all sides keep the pollution and dust contained, compounding the problem. The wind only seems to circulate it all, spinning it around like a big washing machine. The pollution, uncontrollable traffic, poverty, just about all the things that make up any given big city, Kabul has in spades. Most flights to various locations are simply a drop-off or pick-up, and rarely does time present itself to leave the airport. But every once in awhile we have some downtime, and it’s the downtime that makes the daily Kabul grind a little easier to cope with.

A couple weeks ago I had several hours to visit Bamyan, and more specifically, the site where the Taliban destroyed the Buddha statues. Signs warning visitors not to enter and watch for falling rock are ignored and for $6 the guard unlocked the gate and allowed us to go explore inside the mountain – filled with tunnels, rooms, and steep stairways – all carved into the mountain by monks.

Originally there were two standing Buddhas, one at 55 meters, the other at 39 meters. The Japanese government and others have been working on preserving the site and began an excavation to try and find the lost “sleeping” Buddha. The actual location of the buried statue is still unknown or, if it has been found, has been kept hush-hush for fear that it would be destroyed if the area ever again fell under control of the Taliban. Some believe there could be up to seven Buddhas total – one for every day of the week. The story behind their destruction is an interesting one – that the Taliban was originally opposed to the destruction, citing possible tourist income. But at some point they changed their mind and began the month-long barrage of dynamite and tank artillery and eventually knocked them down. I was told several possible theories on why they were destroyed: the worshiping of un-Islamic idols, the greater international concern for statues then the Afghan people, retaliation for economic sanctions, even that it was ordered by Osama Bin Laden. Everyone has his or her opinion.

Trips to Bayman, Mazar-I-Sharif, Fizabad, and Herat each have their unique qualities that make the trips special. Photographs do not do the scenery, landscape, and people justice and I’ve realized that capturing the spirit of Afghanistan on camera is a near impossible task – not that I have any intention to stop trying. Despite the unique qualities – one common characteristic has caught my attention: the kites.

The Taliban had outlawed kite flying, claiming it “promoted truancy,” and I suppose it might, as my parents could certainly attest to the direct correlation of building model airplanes and my lack of stellar grades. But as I look down into the yards and neighborhood below me, there are easily as many adults flying the fragile kites as there are children.

The flying is about the same as it has been. Both KingAir’s are operational and I’ve been keeping reasonably busy. New threats however have raised eyebrows – specifically the Taliban’s acquisition of Vietnam era Soviet made SA-7’s, rumored to have been smuggled in from Iran and possibly China. The SA-7 is a shoulder-mounted surface-to-air missile that has taken several shots at military aircraft the past few months; the likelihood of the Taliban firing on a civilian target is still under debate. So in addition to recent suicide bombings and kidnappings here in Kabul, the air threat is the latest in events forcing me to ask myself, what am I doing here? Why am I STILL here? And most important, how much more of this am I willing to take?

Security briefs come from all directions but all generally agree things will get worse in Kabul before they get better, and there already seems to be some evidence of that. The why’s and how’s are some of the questions I am going to spend some time trying to answer when I return to the US in early October to visit my family in Minneapolis and Oregon – unfortunately no San Diego stop this time. The hope is to take a step back, decompress, and look at the situation from another angle. The plan right now is to return to Kabul, but that may change as AirServ is aware of my concerns and may be sending me to Africa to finish my contract in Entebbe, Uganda.

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For those of you that don’t know, I don’t write these blog entries all in one sitting. A little bit here, a little bit there, and eventually I come up with something I feel someone might like to read. This one in particular I actually began on August 21st. Today is September 26th. So between finding the right words and simple laziness, each entry takes time.

Today is one of those days where we have some downtime, this time in Kunduz, just south of the Tajikistan border. Eight hours worth of downtime infact, and for the first time I decided to bring my laptop on a trip in lieu of a book. Mainly because I wanted to get the latest entry posted before I have to answer another e-mail wondering if I’m still alive.

We left a chilly Kabul this morning at 7am and arrived at Kunduz a little less then an hour later. The sound of machine gun fire in the distance was an attention-getter, but as it turned out it was the Afghan National Army running drills. Our UN contact Kamal, dressed in a white suit with dark pinstripes, picked us up in an armored UN Toyota pick-up truck, and from the airport we ventured into town for a little sightseeing. Kunduz doesn’t have a lot in the way of much to look at – the majority of the town was all but destroyed and rebuilding has only taken place in the past couple of years. Kamal took us to the local market via a paved, two-lane road with farmland on both sides. When we arrived, the busy hustle and bustle of everyday commerce was underway and in full swing. Women in blue burkas, children close in tow, shopped the clothing stores and the produce stands. The men were more concentrated around the masonry, brick, and general building supplies area. The shops are setup like small districts, where you can find all the clothing shops in one area, fruits and vegetables in another, meats and home improvement in another, and so on. Covered alleys held in the aromas of the goods on display – at times quite foul, other times quite pleasant.

Sometimes I find myself a little shy to pull out my camera and take photos. Americans can legally extend the right to privacy to the public arena and often do not appreciate having their photo taken by a stranger, and heaven forbid you take a photo of a child; you could wind up in jail. In Afghanistan I have found the opposite to be true – people love to have their photo taken, especially the children. This morning at the market I took a photo of a young boy and his face immediately lit up with a big grin when I showed him the image of himself on the small LCD display. He then pulled over a friend and said something I didn’t understand; a man next to us said the boy asked if I would take another with the both of them. Of course I did, and again the boys lit up with delight at seeing an image of themselves taken just seconds before.

Moments later I was surrounded by kids and adults, all wanting their photo taken and to see what they looked like on the small digital screen. The attention didn’t bother me at all, but it seemed to bother Kamal, and he pulled me away with a firm grasp and announced, “we must go now!” He shoo’d the group away and I reluctantly followed. I wondered with that suit of his, his job, two cell phones constantly ringing, and a perpetual walking dance in a futile effort to keep his shoes clean, if he felt in someway superior to his local Kunduz neighbors, was embarrassed, or concerned for my safety.

After about an hour Kamal was ready to head back, which was fine. I’m sure his UN job description has no mention of tour guide, so I didn’t really mind. On the way back to the UN guest house, he pointed out the Governor’s mansion, his high school, and a telecommunications company – all of which he was very proud of.

UN guest houses, while aesthetically different from place to place, all contain the same basic elements: a couple of horribly uncomfortable beds, a table or two, and a TV – which may or may not be connected to a satellite. And so here I sit, at a green, square, plastic table, big enough for one plastic chair on each end, my laptop keeping my attention and iTunes doing its thing. A fuzzy South African channel on the television is showing something about great white sharks, but neither one of us are really watching it. Deo, the other pilot, is making use of one of the lumpy beds, but his only complaint so far has been that of a pesky housefly.

And such is my life.

So these little day-trips have become something to look forward to. As I mentioned, they make the daily Kabul grind considerably easier to deal with. The kindness, generosity, and hospitality of the Afghan people – to see the real Afghanistan, one that hasn’t been watered-down or glorified by the media, or obscured by a foggy military agenda has been something to cherish. And why the questions I need to answer and the decisions I need to make when I’m back in the States are so difficult.

Until next time,
~dj

photos on flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/djhorton/sets/72157602146098341/

22 JULY 2007 – BRUNCH WITH BOB

22 July 2007 – Brunch with Bob

Ever since I left my little apartment in Banker’s Hill I’ve been listening to a popular San Diego radio station over the Internet, for no other reason then it’s nice to hear a familiar voice on a regular basis. My favorite show being Brunch With Bob & Friends- a weekly program on Sunday mornings (Sunday nights here) that plays three hours of classic and rare tracks by Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and several others. Just as if I was sitting at home or in my car, I get some commercials now and then, a traffic report, weather and surf reports, and other local San Diego blah-d-blah. Something has changed though in recent weeks – it seems the novelty has turned into a longing, and borderline sadness. As it turns out, I miss home.

But it’s more then just voices on the radio.

For a while now I’ve been struggling with what to write for my next post because in all honesty, much of what’s on my mind isn’t exactly positive. And as I previously wrote, I knew keeping a positive attitude might be a challenge. I was right, it is – but not for the reasons I thought.

The biggest challenge by far has been coming to grips with the “post-conflict” mission here in Afghanistan. It could be called a lot of different things, and many of the buzzwords: humanity, development, and progress seem to depend on the glasses one looks through. I have found it easy to get frustrated and annoyed with organizations like the UN, USAID, and others. Growing up in San Diego all one needs to do is get in a car and drive 40 minutes south to find lousy roads, little infrastructure, children digging through trash and begging for money, and a corrupt government – and as far as I know, the UN and USAID have no presence in Mexico. This of course begs the question of what exactly are the people of these organizations doing here, other then driving around in brand new Land Cruisers and being extremely well paid. I’ve had many long and deep conversations about this with people far wiser than I and have been reminded that often the day-to-day achievements are difficult to identify – that more is going on then meets the eye, and in the end, good things will happen. I hope this is true. But I still have to wonder: if every white UN SUV suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a donkey-drawn cart (like many of the locals use), how many people would stick around?

The beginning of July brought with it the arduous task of moving to our new compound – Afghan style. Let’s just say it’s been one of the more entertaining things I’ve gotten to experience since I’ve been here. The landlord did his best to get various remodeling projects finished and the house cleaned before we arrived. Neither happened.

Major construction was still going on as we moved in. Walls were being torn out to expand rooms and plumbing leaks and faulty outlets were still being fixed. The electrician and plumber is a 19-year-old nephew of the landlord; and anytime there’s a problem it requires a chisel, a mallet, or a jackhammer and sometimes all three as the house is made completely of brick. As a result dust came from all directions: inside, outside, and every-which-way. I learned that some phrases just don’t translate well (if at all) into Dari – phrases such as, “why did you install a 220V outlet IN my shower?” and, “yes, that is a lovely new hanging closet you built for my room – except it’s not deep enough for a hangar because there’s only 7” from the back wall to the door.” That kind of thing. I’m not sure if the blank stare I would get was a lack of understanding or quiet loathing.

For several days open boxes and furniture were everywhere, and because the movers didn’t label anything they had no idea where it went after it got to the new house. And in all honesty it wasn’t really that big of a deal – after all, we were moving and some disorganization was to be expected. We packed up most of our personal belongings ourselves, the only exception were the clothes hanging in my closet – I asked for a clean box or plastic bag to keep my work clothes as clean as possible. “No problem!” they said, “we’ll take care of it for you Mr. DJ!” Two mornings later I was scheduled to fly and went and found the last boxes I knew had clothes in them. All new clean computer-sized boxes sealed with packing tape. Cracked open the first box – success, it was mine… only to find that someone had decided to pack a bunch of cleaning products (including a toilet scrubber) with my clothes. Kinda gross, but okay, not the end of the world. More aggravating however was the open container of the Afghan equivalent of “Comet” also tossed in. The box apparently flipped over several times on its 10-minute journey from the old house to the new, resulting in my nice clean clothes being covered in white a granulated powdered soap shit with blue “active enzymes” all over the place. As I write this all I can do is smile and shake my head – but at the time I didn’t find it all that amusing.

I did manage to score the penthouse suite – by far the largest room of the complex located on the top floor with windows on three of four walls and my very own patio. The downside is the five flights of stairs I have to climb each day, but it’s worth it. Construction standards aren’t, well… standard. The foundation wasn’t level when they poured the concrete so neither is the first floor, or any of the subsequent floors built on top of it, resulting in hallways with “ramps” and small toe-grabbing lips in the floor to try and level out the living areas. The height of any given doorway seems to be largely dependent on the height person that built the door – if the builder was 6 feet tall then the door is about 6’2”. If the builder was 5’7”, then it’s about 5’9”. Several of the taller residents have taken blows to the dome as they’ve learned the hard way which are the shorter doors.

Another interesting piece of cultural difference is the rental agreement. When a house is rented, the renters pretty much inherit, and are responsible for, any problems that might come up. Plumbing or electrical problem and it’s the renter’s responsibility to fix it. So you can imagine the incentive the landlord has to hire a “real” plumber or “real” electrician to do the job right when the house was first built, hence the 19-year-old jack-of-all-trades nephew. Camel hair versus Teflon tape is the leak-stopper of choice, which only works about half the time regardless of how much you use. My suggestion was if we were to pay for new plumbing then we should get to take it with us when our lease is up. Yes – we’ve had a lot of plumbing problems. The previous renter used the house as an illegal brothel and nothing was ever fixed.

But the good news is the place is coming along. Most of the plumbing and electrical problems have been addressed, the dust is gone, the a/c units and curtains have been installed – it’s starting to feel like a home.

Work has been more or less the same. I’ve been officially signed off as captain and now bear the responsibilities associated with such a title. We currently have only one flyable airplane as the other is down with an inoperative yaw dampener, limiting the airplane to 17,000 feet and making it more or less useless here in Afghanistan. We now have five pilots, four Americans and one from South Africa. The South African will be leaving in a couple of weeks leaving us with just four and I imagine things will pick up once the other airplane is operational again. Also recently arrived is a Bell 212 helicopter, its two crew members, mechanic and one support staff, so the house is already starting to fill up.

The dog-days of the Afghan summer have arrived and are in full swing. The hot, clear days of Kandahar has been replaced with even hotter days and visibilities of about a half a mile due to blowing dust. Kandahar has both a GPS and ILS approach which helps, and both times this week we ended up flying the approach to minimums. Good times. The engines however don’t seem to appreciate it much as any attempt to open the ice veins to try and keep out some of the dust and the oil temperature climbs dramatically – a nasty little side-effect when the outside air temperature is so high. So our options are to melt the engines from the oil temp or sandblast the innards. Gotta hand it to Pratt & Whitney though, the PT6 is one helluva engine to consistently take the abuse we seem to feed it, and so far, haven’t had any problems.

And while Kandahar has its dust, Kabul has its wind. Afternoon wind picks up dramatically straight out of the north, and the only runway at Kabul is East/West. Admittedly it took a few tries, but we’ve all gotten pretty good at putting the airplane down nice and soft in a 30 knot sustained direct crosswind, gusting to 40+.

I recently finished a book that many of you recommended – The Kite Runner by Khaled Housseini, a fictional story of two boys growing up in Kabul. A sad story, but well written and an easy read. A couple of noteworthy parallels – the boys lived in Wazir Akbar Khan and the author writes of them climbing a hill near their house and looking down on the airport below. The house we moved from sat at the base of the only hill in Wazir Akbar Khan, at the top of which is a perfect view of the airport. The pomegranate trees he writes of, if they ever existed, are gone but a cemetery is still up there. On the plateau of the hill now are several abandoned military vehicles and an Olympic-sized swimming pool the Russians built years ago, complete with diving boards. When the Taliban took back control they used the diving boards for hangings and are no longer usable as most of the steps are missing, but the pool is still supposedly usable. I haven’t been up there recently but one of the neighborhood kids was very excited that it had recently been filled up, or at least that’s what I got out of his broken English. Our new house is in the Shar-e-naw district, also mentioned in the book, about a half-mile from the old house.

I’ve gotten to know one of our cooks pretty well; his name is Farhad and is 24 years old but could easily pass for about 34 – pretty common for the region as the sun has a tendency to take its toll on the skin. We’ve had long talks about the pre-American invasion and life under Taliban rule; take all the horrible things you’ve heard about the Taliban and multiply it by about a hundred, and you’ll just begin to scratch the surface. Public executions in the most brutal of methods, rape, kidnapping, ethnic cleansing and a multitude of other human rights abuses were the norm, and to talk to a person who lived through this only a few years ago literally puts a person to the black and white article in the New York Times. Like with Steve in Uganda, we’ve also talked about life in America and some of the differences, my favorite of which is why I haven’t taken a wife and had several children. I tell him my mom would also like an answer to that one.

But in all seriousness, after my chats with Farhad and others, I’ve learned the people have gotten screwed for a very time. Take any Bob Marley song about oppression, struggle, liberation, and freedom and it can easily be applied to the people of Afghanistan. Like the Brunch with Bob Voice Gnome boasts, “music that grows more relevant, more liberating, everyday.” Nothing could be truer here.

I hope this finds everyone well and I’ll do my best to provide updates a little more often. Even the people I live with give me crap for not posting in awhile and I see them everyday. But rest assured, I am safe and in good form. The bad-guys are, for the most part, behaving themselves here in Kabul and aside from the occasional earthquake and the scheduled detonation of land mines, things are relatively calm.

Until next time,

~dj

very random photos at www.flickr.com/photos/djhorton

31 MAY 2007 – “WELL COME TO AFGHANISTAN”

First off, I’d like to offer a warning to those of you about to read this, especially my Mom, Grandma, and anyone else that has a tendency to worry (which I know is just about everybody): I’m going to try and do my best to paint the picture as I see it. Unfortunately the picture may not be a pretty one, because as you know, Afghanistan is a war zone. It’s scary and it’s dangerous. I hate the thought of people worrying but I know it’s inevitable. I do hope you take comfort though, in the thought that I’m here as a promoter of peace and humanity. There is hope for this country – it won’t happen in the next year while I’m here, and my not even happen in my lifetime. But we have to try and we have to start somewhere…

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31 May 2007 – “Well Come to Afghanistan”

I am absolutely, positively, under no circumstances, without a doubt – not in Kansas anymore.

Dave and I made it to Kabul without incident aboard the Kam Air flight. We waited at customs for about 20 minutes and filled out the entry form titled “WELL COME TO AFGHANISTAN” (hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?). After an evil stare-down from an aged and leather-skinned Afghani customs official in a military uniform and a fresh new stamp in my passport, I was on my way.

We were met at the airport by Jon, the program chief pilot from Atlanta, and Akhtar, one of the Air Serv drivers. The drive to the house is maybe four or five miles and took about 15 minutes. Several of the other pilots and some of the administrative staff were there to greet us when we arrived. Dave and I were shown to our respective rooms and I began both the mental and physical process of getting settled. The house is large – three levels contain the 14 bedrooms, each with its own bathroom and air conditioner. It has two kitchens, two satellite TV’s, wireless internet, pool table, and an above ground inflatable pool on the roof. In the basement are the administrative offices, laundry area, and weight room. There is tile throughout and the ceilings are accented with crown molding and are probably 15 feet high. It looks like it could be a hotel. Within the first five minutes of arriving I was issued a flak jacket, “you’re probably not going to need this, but keep it in your room – just in case.”

The house is fully staffed with cooks, cleaners, and people to do our laundry – daily. I’m not used to someone, much less several people, waiting on me like this so it’s taking some time to get used to. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all provided and out side of those times the kitchen is well stocked and has a “help yourself” policy. Most of the Air Serv programs you end up losing weight – this one, not so much. Aljazeera television is in the building directly behind our house and they broadcast live from their roof all the time. Unfortunately the cameras are pointed in the opposite direction from our place so my 15 minutes will have to wait.

But as nice as the house is, we’re moving out at the end of June. Our lease is up and the landlord decided to nearly double the rent. I haven’t seen the new place yet but I’m told it’s a little more “homey.” The bright side of course is a legitimate excuse for a house-warming party.

For the most part Kabul is what you might expect. The weather is hot, windy, dry, very dusty, and mountains surround the area – many of which are still covered in snow. The seasonal battle of winter and summer is coming to an end – the days are getting drier and warmer and fewer and fewer clouds hide the sun. Afternoon thunderstorms are still fairly common, but soon there won’t be a drop of moisture until November and the temperature will climb to 110+ in Kabul and 120+ in some of the lower areas. One thing I did not expect though was how green Kabul is – there are green leafy trees everywhere throughout the city. Time difference check: 11.5 hours for the people on the left, 9.5 for the people in the middle.

I’ve been here a little over a week and the initial culture shock has begun to wear off. Getting acclimated has been an interesting, even fun process that’s been aided by tours and soaking up the knowledge of the other pilots and foreigners. I’ve gotten to checkout some of the ex-pat hangouts – restaurants, bars, and there are even a few nice swimming pools. Ex-pats come from nearly every country in Europe, Russia, Australia, and of course America; making for an interesting social scene. A few ex-pat stores provide the basics, from toothpaste to bulletproof vests but are generally ill equipped – one thing that’s in surprisingly short supply is sunscreen and lip balm, kind of a bummer.

Like in Uganda, we have drivers that take us wherever we want to go – a good thing, as the traffic is a general free-for-all and as near as I can tell, totally out of control. Traffic is just as likely to be slowed by a stalled vehicle as it is to be slowed by a flock of sheep crossing the road. There are no lanes to speak of and drivers honk their horns all the time, at everything, for any reason, and sometimes I think they honk just for the sake of honking. Cars and trucks get within inches of each other but I have yet to see an accident. Come to find out that getting into a traffic accident is a criminal offense and is a guaranteed trip to jail. I didn’t find out if they take you to the hospital first if the accident is severe enough.

When I was first asked if I was willing to go to Afghanistan, my first thought was, “well, you don’t hear much about Afghanistan in the news anymore, it’s all about Iraq. Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Shows you what I get for thinking. For whatever reason, the American media has stopped reporting on the situation here, but make no mistake, there is still most definitely a “situation” here. Most of the violence is in the southern region – Kandahar for example, which, according to our UN liaison at the airport, has been averaging three bombings per day. The area of Kabul where I’m staying is called Wazir Akber Khan and is generally considered more secure; although I heard my first ka-boom a few days ago, and when I went to the roof to check things out I could see smoke and dust rising a few blocks away. I don’t know what it was exactly – and I’d rather not think about it. Never underestimate the power of denial.

At times I feel as if I’ve been dropped into any given Hollywood movie about the Middle East. Azan, the Islamic call to prayer, pours into the streets from the mosques several times daily, and more then once I’ve walked into a room to find a housekeeper on his knees on a brightly colored rug praying. Local women of course wear burqas, and depending on how traditional the woman is depends on how much she chooses to cover herself. Destroyed vehicles are a common scene – everything from burned out taxi’s to armored personnel carriers that have been reduced to twisted scraps of metal. Military equipment, some surplus, some scrap, are common at several of the airports, all rusting and rotting away. Daily UN briefing reports summarize the latest suicide bombings, armed robbery, and kidnappings throughout the country. Eventually however reality catches up with me and I realize this is no movie. There are no cameras, no 2nd takes, and no one to yell, “that’s a wrap!” when it’s time to pack up the devastation and return the place to “normal.”

Poverty is rampant. What infrastructure there was has been completely destroyed by war. Children can be seen rummaging through garbage. Men with one leg on crutches, probably a landmine victim, are common. There is a general distrust of everyone. It’s as about as depressing and horrible and sad as anything I’ve ever experienced. Keeping an open mind and trying to remain positive may prove to be a challenge.

Changing gears, a little more shop-talk…

It has been over two months since I’ve driven a KingAir and last week I took my first flight to Kandahar and back. It felt great to get back on the saddle again. The airplane is nicely equipped with an EFIS and an FMS (for the non-pilots, a lot of nice electronic gadgets) and both planes are in reasonable shape considering the operating conditions, but in all honesty, could use some work. The typical corporate-style seating has been removed and 9 small forward-facing seats have been installed. I was under the impression both airplanes were painted white with no makings on them at all, but the UN logo and UNOPS logo are plainly visible. I was a little nervous about this at first, but without a doubt I’m far more nervous sitting in a UN vehicle (which doesn’t happen very often), stuck in traffic on Jalalabad Road (which happens all the time).

The contracts for the two current captains are up and they’re both leaving at the beginning of July, so the push is on to get Dave and I up to speed within the next month. Dave is the first priority as he has been with the company longer and I’m a close second. The first officers are guys from South Africa, here to build multi-engine turbine time and are typically on a six-week rotation. They’re not exactly thrilled with Dave and I showing up as we’re all of a sudden taking their flights, but they don’t seem to be upset with us specifically. But then again, I don’t speak Afrikaans.

The scenery is breathtaking. Snow capped mountains, lakes, sand dunes… it’s all here. One of the neatest places I’ve been into is Bamyan, a gravel strip tucked away in a valley, yet still sitting at 8,300 feet above sea level. We didn’t have time to go explore but it’s high on my to-do list. This is one of the places where the Taliban destroyed Buddhist statues a few years ago.

About 45 minutes north of Kabul is Fizabad, another neat little town at the western edge of the Hindukush mountain range. It’s got a 6,500′ man-made corrugated steel runway that feels like it could vibrate the fillings out of your teeth. East from Fizabad the minimum en-route altitude exceeds 25,000 feet, and as you get closer to China, a grim yet eye-catching notice printed on the chart reads: WARNING: Aircraft infringing on the Non-Free Flying Territory may be fired upon without warning. Two very good reasons to enjoy the view from a distance.

Air Traffic Control has been setup and is operated by Americans, so it’s almost like flying in the US. Much of the area is radar controlled and many of the airports have published approaches. IFR altitudes start at 24,000 feet but that’s more of a guideline then a rule. If you need something, like say, VFR at 25,500 feet to avoid some weather, just ask – they’ll probably give it to you. In fact everything seems to be more of a guideline then a rule – I’m not sure there are too many “rules” to follow, bend, or break anyway. The only exception I’ve found so far is where a Restricted Area has been setup – permission to transit is granted or denied via a British military AWACS airplane circling overhead. Otherwise the system is setup like the US and most of the pilots seem to have a clue. With that said (and I hate to pick on any one group), the Russian pilots tend to be worst (sorry fellas). The pilots don’t speak English and radio communication is via a non-pilot translator. Position reports and altitudes are consistently incorrect, and a simple ATC request such as “say squawk” can lead to a 15-minute dialogue. Rumor has it they are occasionally arrested for being drunk and, unfortunately, this theory can be reasonably proven by discarded heaps of Antinov aircraft stacked on top of each other – the remnants of a slight miscalculation upon takeoff or landing.

But so far I am safe and sound. I’m making friends and absorbing the different but rich culture of the Afghani people and country. The locals are friendly and in my opinion, not at all bad people. A little side story: Jon and I were at the Herat airport with some time to kill and were invited by one of the Dawi Oil executives to join him for tea. We spent about an hour with him and his translator – they were very curious about what we thought about Afghanistan. At one point the man asked “what gifts can we bring you on your next visit?” Neither one of us knew exactly how to answer that question, my humble reply was, “how about peace in your country?” The man’s eyes got big and a smile graced his face and through the translator said, “in the Qur’an, nothing is more important than peace.” I’m certainly no Qur’an expert and cannot comment either way on that one but it was a nice moment nonetheless. When I told the story to one of the other pilots he said I probably made a friend for life.

Well, I suppose I’ve rambled on long enough. No photos to share this time – I have plenty, I just haven’t had an opportunity to get them uploaded. I will soon, though.

~dj

24 MAY 2007 – T-Minus 2 Hours

24 May 2007 – T-Minus 2 Hours

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard KamAir flight 0006 – non-stop service to Kabul. For those of you wondering, yes, this is the very first 737 ever built. As we climb out, you may hear a slight squeak coming from the rear of the airplane, that would be a pressurization leak, but not to worry, our cruising altitude today will only be 29,000 feet. In the event of an emergency, please do not attempt to use the aft most exit on the left-hand side of the airplane, as the large Igloo coolers for the refreshments are blocking the door. For your comfort the air conditioning will be turned on once we begin our taxi, however the system is inoperative past row number six and so we kindly ask that the passengers seated in the forward most seats to vigorously wave their briefing cards backwards so the passengers in rear of the plane can have some air. We apologize for the inconvenience. Also, the flies you see onboard are certainly annoying but rest assured, are in no way harmful. The captain today has programmed our flight into the portable Garmin GPSMap 296 clipped to the instrument panel and has estimated our flight time to be two hours and 20 minutes.”

Alright, so maybe only about half of that was true. I’ll let you decide which half.

Maybe it was closer to 3/4 true.

So here I am, on the final leg. Anticipation, more than anxiety, is probably the best way to describe how I feel – with the exception of this airplane, in which case anxiety is probably the better word. We did get airborne, which while on the ground I still had my doubts. At least it’s a Boeing and not an Airbus, but now that I think about it, we do still need to land. It’s definitely a far cry from the Emirates 777-300ER with all the personal entertainment bells and whistles in the seatbacks on the flight from Joberg to Dubai.

Dave and I had about 24 hours to spend in Dubai. Just like the Travel Channel boasts, it’s a modern city with all the amenities, and in a lot of ways reminds me of Las Vegas – so we decided to play tourist for the day and do some sight-seeing. We visited the Mall of the Emirates, the Barj Al Arab hotel, and the Gold Souk. The Mall of the Emirates is the mall with the indoor downhill ski slope. Impressive? Uhhh… I guess. I don’t know what to say other then it’s a big frozen tunnel with snow on it. Other then that it was like any other mall. From there we went to the Barj Al Arab – the giant hotel that looks like a sail and seen in nearly every photo of Dubai. Security wouldn’t let us past the front gate without a reservation so we took a couple of novelty photos and were on our way.

The real fun came when we decided to go to the Gold Souk. After our taxi driver rear-ended some guy at a stoplight we arrived at a covered street where various gold items, mostly jewelry, are sold and traded. Our cab dropped us off and a teenage kid immediately approached Dave asking if he wanted to see some watches – Dave’s a bit of a watch aficionado and said sure. The next thing I know we’re being lead through a back alley, into a building, up four flights of stairs, to a door that was locked from the inside. Security cameras poked out from the ceiling and the teenage kid rang the doorbell a few times. With a click the deadbolt unlocked and we were invited into small room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves of phony Louis Vuitton handbags on three of the four walls. Three men greeted us and presented us with a multitude of bogus designer watches: Rolex, Breitling, Omega – you name it and they had it. “American Navy men come here to buy watches” one of the men boasted. I’m sure they do.

Although they were friendly enough, getting out was a bit of a challenge, so Dave asked if they had a blue and red Rolex GMT Master – apparently relatively rare in the states. Of course they didn’t but made several phone calls trying to track one down. Dave’s plan worked, our excuse to leave presented itself, and we were able to walk out guilt-free. We spent another 30 minutes browsing the shops – some of the gold jewelry is really quite impressive. By the time we decided to head back to the hotel the word was out and every other hawker in the Souk trying to sell us a blue and red Rolex GMT Master.

Admittedly I was a little nervous as we climbed the stairs – having no idea where we were going or what exactly we were doing; but for whatever reason I never really felt like I was in any danger – even when we were in the “office.” The men weren’t at all aggressive and I didn’t necessarily feel trapped, although the whole experience was a bit surreal.

This morning’s flight was scheduled for an 8 a.m. departure. Our briefing from HQ suggested that we arrive early because the flight often leaves early – a good thing because as 8 a.m. rolled around we had already been airborne for 30 minutes. As I look out the window to scenery that resembles the American southwest times about 10, I can’t help but wonder what was so important about this desolate, inhospitable land that would warrant the Russians to engage in war over it for so many years. There is nothing here – no shipping ports, no agriculture – nothing obvious anyway. Just mountains, rocks, and sand. There must be more to that story.

Well, the moment of truth. We’ve begun our descent. If you’re reading this it means I survived.

TO BE CONTINUED…

20 MAY 2007 – Rugby and Air Law

20 May 2007 – Rugby and Air Law

I know, it’s been awhile since I’ve posted. I appreciate all of your e-mail wondering what’s going on. I wish I could report that the past couple of weeks have been so exciting that I’m sitting here wondering where the time went. Sadly, that’s not the case. In fact it’s just the opposite – I feel like I’ve been here for months.

The short version is I’ve been very busy. Study, simulator, study, simulator, study, study, class, study, class, study, study, study. It’s been stressful. The good news is, is everything is done. I passed my sim check ride last week, passed my written exam a few days ago, and passed the flight check this morning. It’s a huge relief, and now I just sit back, relax, and wait for Afghanistan.

That’s not to say I haven’t had a little bit of fun though. For instance, a couple Saturday’s ago I managed to take in a pro rugby game. It was the local Vodacom Blue Bulls (ranked #4) vs. The Reds, a team from New Zealand (ranked dead last at #14).

If you’re not familiar with rugby I will sum up:

The idea of the game is similar to American football – get the ball into the other team’s “half” and what we call a touchdown is called a “try.” A try is worth 5 points and after a try is scored a “conversion kick” is attempted through the uprights – just like the extra point but in this case it’s worth 2. There’s also a “penalty kick”, similar to a field goal and worth 3 points. A typical score is also similar to that of an NFL game – somewhere between the upper teens and the upper 20’s is about the norm. In order for the Bulls to retain their home field advantage for the playoffs they needed to win by 72 points, which everybody said was impossible.

Watching these guys play was unreal. They don’t wear any pads and it’s just as brutal as football. A match is made up of two, 40-minute halves and the clock only stops running if there’s a serious injury and for halftime. There are no downs, very few penalties, and the ball is almost always in play. It’s wild to watch 10 guys jump on the ball, land in a big pile, then about 10 seconds later see the ball come flying out from underneath it all, have someone catch it, and then start running with it again. Halftime is 10 minutes and everyone just hangs out in his or her seat until halftime is over – there is no mad rush to the beer stand.

Two, 40-minutes halves plus 10 minutes for halftime is 90 minutes. There are no TV time outs, no two-minute warnings, no playing the sidelines, no reviewing the plays, no downing the ball; and so you come in, watch the game, and walk out about an hour and a half later. For those of you who don’t watch American football, it’s made up of four, 15-minute quarters and you’ll walk out about three and a half hours later.

Now for a little shop-talk…

US pilots are governed by a set of regulations dictated by 14 CFR and its applicable parts. Or more simply, what you can and cannot do as a pilot. The code has grown over the years to what is now a book about as thick as your average dictionary written in print of about the same size. Unfortunately many of these rules stem from accidents (or worse) pilots killing themselves; someone does something that causes an incident or accident and, if there isn’t already, a rule is often written prohibiting it from hopefully happening again.

I’m sure South African air law has a similar history and some of the regulations are noteworthy. Take for example 91.02.5 (2):

In the case of a single-pilot aircraft, the pilot-in-command shall,
during all phases of flight, remain at the controls of the aircraft.

I can just imagine the government lawyer shaking his head when he had to write that one up.

I’d say about 95% of the regulations are the same as the US. I won’t go over all the little differences but I’ll point out some of the more interesting ones. Much of following only the pilots out there will understand but I will do my best to make it interesting for everyone:

1. Tossing Objects: you can’t throw anything out of the airplane without prior authorization. If you saw the movie The Gods Must be Crazy you know how an empty Coca-Cola bottle can wreak havoc on an indigenous tribe. It’s for the best.

2. Lousy Weather: you cannot fly single-pilot in IMC without a heading and altitude hold autopilot. It doesn’t matter what type of airplane you’re in or if it’s a revenue flight or not. 1 pilot + no autopilot = VFR only. It’s actually probably a pretty good rule.

3. Type Ratings: type ratings are required for every type of airplane flown regardless of max take-off weight or propulsion. A pilot who earns their license in a Cessna 152 is required to get a type rating (essentially a check ride) to fly a Cessna 172 and so on. However, they don’t have federal or designated examiners like they do in the US – they have three levels of instructors and only a level three can actually issue the license, while a level one, two, or three can issue a type rating. Lucky me, I will automatically be typed in every airplane I have logged in my logbook.

4. Climb and Maintain: flight levels begin at 1,500 feet AGL and you set 1013mb (29.92”) in the altimeter as you climb through it. 4,000 feet is FL40. Altitudes are given in feet, visibility is given in kilometers, and distance is given in nautical miles.

5. Flying an Approach: approaches are the same – an ILS is an ILS, a VOR is a VOR and so on. The big difference however are the government-published approach plates, in that the approach minimums are not listed on the plate itself. The pilot has to figure them out based on all sorts of different criteria, cross-referencing with various tables and charts. I wrote up the steps in a previous revision but realized I would probably lose half my audience. If you want them for curiosity’s sake let me know and I will e-mail them to you.

Determining your alternates (often you need two and sometime three) involve about a half a dozen more steps. Nobody actually uses these plates in real life – they’re far too complex to be practical. Everyone just uses Jeppesen, who of course has worked all that information for you and published the minimums on the plate itself. The NOS plates that nobody seems to like or use are awesome by comparison.

The RSA regulations are really a bit of a mess. There are inconsistencies, contradictions and ambiguities everywhere. It’s so bad in fact the RSA Civil Aviation Authority has failed its last two audits conducted by the FAA and ICAO – and because nothing has been done to correct the problems they’re considering all kinds of tariff increases and route limits to the US until the problems are rectified. This of course is a big problem as various cities in the RSA are scheduled to host the World Cup Soccer Tournament in 2010 and the potential for huge revenue loss. Not to mention, flight safety.

But like I mentioned before, I’m done with everything and I’m about to begin the next phase of this grand adventure. My flight to Kabul is scheduled for May 22nd with a two-day stopover in Dubai. And although it seems like I’ve been in South Africa forever, I haven’t minded the time I’ve spent down here. I’ve met a lot of great people, had some fun, have seen and experienced first-hand both the problems and achievements of a post-apartheid South Africa – and is someplace I absolutely look forward coming back to. There is a whole other world out there, outside of my safe little San Diego bubble, and there’s not a school in the world that could teach this kind of thing.

So on Tuesday I pack my stuff and head back north. Where in the matter crossing a few parallels the seasons switch back from fall to spring and I get to look forward to a whole new group of people, a whole new learning curve, and fresh dose of culture shock. I’m doing my best to keep a positive attitude and I appreciate the concern many of you have expressed of the Afghanistan mission in general. I know it’s dangerous, it’s not secure, and that many Afghanis don’t exactly welcome American’s with open arms. I wish there was something I could write that might help put your minds at ease, but I know that’s not possible. However there is something I’ve learned in the past month: fortune comes in many different sizes and shapes, flavors and colors. And after being in Uganda, South Africa, and soon Afghanistan, I have never felt so fortunate to be an American in my entire life. It’s given me the opportunity to be in a position to heal, versus hurt; to help, versus hide; and to hope, versus feel despair. That’s not to say America is perfect – it’s not, and no place is. But politics aside, and in my limited travels, I’m beginning to realize in a whole new way that America is the greatest country in the world.

Alright – I’m stepping down from my philosophical soap-box. For now.

I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of photos to share this time. This area of the RSA is like Bakersfield – pretty boring and not a lot to do. But for the final score of the rugby game (and some other stuff) you’ll need to log on to Flickr. Enjoy!

~dj

http://www.flickr.com/photos/djhorton

27 APR 2007 – Back to Civilization

27 April 2007 – Back to Civilization

Made it to Johannesburg yesterday without any problems.  I was greeted at the airport by Ronel, a Simuflight employee sporting an Air Serv sign – I love it when a plan comes together.  Everything people have told me about South Africa seems to be true – it’s like any other developed country.  The roads are paved and the buildings are modern, that kind of thing; although Johannesburg has been described as the South Central Los Angeles area of the country with high crime rates.  Before I left Entebbe I had lunch with a South African native that referred to Joberg as “the world’s deepest long drop”.  I’ll let you figure out the translation.  Ronel had a heavy right foot until we got on the freeway, expressing similar concerns of the area and made it very clear that under no circumstances should I drive into the city at night.

We drove to the Simuflight office located at the Grand Central Airport in Midrand, about 40 minutes north of Joberg.  From there I got a tour of the facility, checked out the sim, met the instructors, got started on a bunch of paperwork and went over the schedule for the next couple of weeks.  I guess the vacation is over – it’s going to be a busy couple of weeks.

After all that I was handed the keys to the Simuflight courtesy car and given a map to the Air Serv apartment about 3 miles away.  Ahhhh…  the moment I’ve been waiting for.  Yes, they drive on the left over here, and yes the steering wheel is on the right.  The car is a Hundai something and a 5-speed manual.  I haven’t driven a manual with any consistency in years but so far haven’t had any problems – the shifting order is the same with 1st being in the upper left and reverse being in the lower right.  Once I got going I kept repeating in my head “stay to the left… stay to the left… “  Only once, while making a left turn did I bump up against the curb and realize I was too far left; from then on I just kept myself inline with the driver in front of me and so far it’s seemed to work out alright.  I made it to the apartment just fine and the car is in one piece.

The apartment is similar to what you might find in an apartment complex in the US.  Air Serv has rented it since it was brand new and Air Serv pilots are the only people who have ever stayed here.  As a result, a bit of personalization has been added.  For example, someone has gone around and labeled nearly everything in French, as most pilots end up going to the Congo where French is the predominant language.  I’ve considered going around and adding the Dari or Arabic equivalent.  Might be a good break from studying South African air law.

The key to the front door is something to note – it looks like a skeleton key from old movies or cartoons, and you can literally see right through the lock into the apartment.  There’s a security gate that uses a regular key – why the front door is like that I have no idea.  I’m no locksmith but I don’t think you’d exactly have to be Houdini to get the front door open.  I figure the security door is there for a reason so as long as I’m here by myself I’ve got the security gate locked as well.  Actually it was a suggestion of the Simuflight staff – apparently Midrand isn’t exactly crime-free either.  I am by the way getting a roommate; a pilot that’s been working for Air Serv in Kinshasa for awhile but has been flying US registered airplanes.  He arrives Saturday night to begin South African air law classes and validation.

Last night I went out to find something to eat.  There are a couple of restaurants near by that resemble any small restaurant you might find in Pacific Beach.  Took an empty seat at the bar and ordered a tap beer and a bacon-cheeseburger.  It was heaven.

3/4 of the way through beer #2 and contemplating beer #3, it dawned on me that I still need to drive myself back to the apartment.  Obviously driving on the left is still very new and considered the possibility of having an ‘American moment’ and making a right when I should have made a left and ending up in a head-on collision.  After a quick, mental risk analysis, responsibility prevailed and I called it a night.

This morning I went out for breakfast at a place called Mugg & Bean – a gourmet coffee house similar to Starbuck’s, but with food.  It is ‘Freedom Day’, a national holiday marking the end of apartheid so the place was pretty busy.  I didn’t mind though, it was nice to eat without being swarmed by lake flies or having to scrape ants out of the butter.

The weather here is similar to San Diego – a nice break from the Entebbe humidity.  It’s autumn – it’s cooling off and the beginning of the rainy season, again similar to San Diego.  It’s at about 26° South here while San Diego is at about 32° North.  Also, we’re 7 hours ahead of the Midwest, 9 ahead of the west coast.

KingAir classes begin tomorrow (Saturday) morning at 9am.  I’d like to thank everyone at ECS in San Diego for the year’s worth of lessons on 4KW and insisting I study the Simcom book and KingAir POH.  It was time well spent and will definitely make training easier.

More news when it’s fit to print.

~dj

photos of the Air Serv apartment at flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/djhorton/

25 APR 2007 – RSA Update

25 APR 2007 – RSA Update

Hello All,

Just a quick update:

I finally got my trip confirmed to South Africa; I leave Thursday morning, nonstop to Johannesburg. I’ll spend a couple of weeks there at Simuflight going over KingAir systems and taking both an insurance check ride and a South African validation check ride. They have a KingAir/1900 simulator so I’m guessing it will be similar to Flight Safety. I’ll also be going over South African air law and will have to take what essentially amounts to an FAA commercial written exam. Can’t wait.

The mission in Afghanistan is a little different than it is in Africa. Although it’s considered humanitarian, it’s not considered emergency humanitarian. It’s a UN contract that takes security personnel to various locations to protect construction workers building (or repairing) one of the main highways running through the country. Between the Russians and the Taliban, it’s seen better days. There are however people who would prefer the highway not be built and to their best to disrupt progress, hence the need for security. The security personnel do carry firearms on board the airplane – time will tell on how I feel about that one.

The UN, at least in Uganda, is not very well received. Entebbe is only a base of operations and the locals I’ve talked to wouldn’t seem to mind if they packed up and left. Mostly it has to do with the in-your-face presence; they drive brand new Toyota Land Cruisers, 4Runners and Rav4’s while the locals drive cars from the 1990’s, if they drive at all. The general impression seems to be that UN employees are on vacation and do as little as possible. I’m not informed enough to make any kind of decision, but I’ve heard similar statements from other ex-pats. I can only imagine what it will be like in Afghanistan…

Other random thoughts:

I’ve been in Entebbe for over two weeks – about 10 days longer then planned. I’m doing my best to stay positive, although I’d give just about anything right now for a couple of mahi tacos from South Beach. I’d probably even settle for McDonald’s at this point. Entebbe is a small town and there aren’t a lot of choices when it comes to food; and because I’m staying in a hotel I end up going out to eat every night.

I’ve trying to keep busy, went to the zoo, the botanical gardens, and Kompala a couple of times. Trying to do as much studying as possible so my time in Joberg will be as painless as possible, but KingAir systems and South African air law are about as exciting as watching paint dry; especially when you’re by yourself and don’t have anybody to study with. On a side note, the botanical garden has an interesting rumor associated with it – supposedly it’s where the original 1918 silent version of Tarzan was filmed. I don’t know if there’s any truth to it – I Google’d it but couldn’t find anything definitive one way or the other.

I went to a “club” last Friday night called Knight Rider’s with one of the other pilots. No apparent relation to the talking car. It was hands down one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever seen. Imagine going to a karaoke bar, but instead of singing, people got up on stage to lip-sync and dance. They have whole routines worked out that they’ve clearly spent a lot of time working on. Various types of music is played including African, Indian, and American and it’s mostly hip-hop and R&B type ballads. Between performances they change clothes. And if the lip-syncing and dancing performance was good enough, people in the audience will run up and give them tips. Entebbe has about seven local TV channels, two of which are non-stop music videos, which might have something to do with it. I don’t know. It was weird.

There is a security guard/history buff here named Steve at the Air Serv hangar that I’ve gotten to know. He looks about 17 but won’t tell me his real age – he insists he’s much older then that. Originally he’s from Kenya but is very proud of Uganda, knows its history inside and out and generally speaks of it like he’s been here his whole life. We’ve talked quite a bit – he’s very interested in America, American history, the history of African American’s and racism, even Barack Obama has come up a few times. I do my best to explain it but find that my knowledge of US history compared to his knowledge of his Ugandan history is a bit lacking. It’s a bit embarrassing, but like I said before, everything is relative.

My only regret so far is I haven’t taken as many pictures as I’d like. Since I’ve been here, some of the more interesting things I’ve seen include a couch being carried away on the back of a boda-boda, a University of St. Thomas t-shirt (where my dad teaches in MN), an In-N-Out Burger sticker on a car, and a woman balancing a bucket of fish on her head, to name a few. As I’ve become more comfortable in my surroundings I’m getting in the habit of taking my camera everywhere and hopefully will have more/better photos to share.

With that said, I’ve uploaded a few more pictures at flickr – just look for the group titled Uganda.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/djhorton/

More when I get to South Africa.

~dj

12 APR 2007 – The Arrival

12 APR 2007 – The Arrival

Hello from Entebbe, Uganda!

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write but the past few weeks have been crazy: work, moving, doctor’s appointments, a two-day road trip to Oregon, a two-day non-rev flight trip to Minneapolis via Salt Lake City, speeding tickets and lost luggage, tying up loose ends, visiting family, trying to visit as many friends as possible, telling my “story” again and again. It’s not everyday someone packs up and moves to central Africa so it’s to be expected I suppose.

The trip to Uganda was uneventful and easy – just the way I like ‘em. Northwest nonstop from Minneapolis to Amsterdam, then KLM nonstop from Amsterdam to Entebbe. Two back to back eight hour flights with a three-hour layover in Amsterdam. I was pretty lucky – one of the other new-hires came from Ft. Worth, Texas. His trip included stops in Chicago, Brussels, and Nairobi.

So… first things first. I had started my first blog entry on the flight from Minneapolis to Amsterdam and planned on publishing it the first chance I got. It was pretty lengthy, detailing what I’ll be doing in the Congo, what I’d be flying, my thoughts, emotions, that kind of yadda-yadda.

But this is Africa, and things change.

More accurately this is life, and things change.

Long story short: I was originally hired to fly a Cessna Caravan out of Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. At some point there was a mix-up at the corporate office and my flight-time summary got attached to the wrong resume. When I arrived at work yesterday they realized I was the mystery candidate with 400 hours of KingAir time and asked me how I felt about Afghanistan. Afghanistan???

I had been here less then 24 hours and already I managed to get myself promoted and upgraded to a bigger airplane.

But… like I said, this is life and things change; and so it appears (at least for now) I’ll be heading to Kabul, Afghanistan. My departure date isn’t known just yet, but I will be going to South Africa initially for training and to take a CAA (the South African FAA) check ride so I can fly the South African registered airplanes. I’ll be honest though, I’m a bit bummed. I was very much looking forward to flying the Caravan in Africa, especially the single-pilot aspect of it. It’s been a long time since I’ve flown an airplane by myself and in the KingAir I’ll have a first officer. However, if after a year of employment if I decide to stick around, I have a lot of say on where I’ll be based and Air Serv does their best in accommodating that. It’s hard to say how I’ll feel in a year but Africa is definitely a place I’d like to come back to.

And I know Afghanistan will be it’s own unique adventure and is absolutely something I’m excited about and looking forward to. It’s not everyday an American is offered a job in the Middle East and not asked to pick up a gun and start shooting people. The mission is the same as it is in Africa – flying aid and aid workers in and out of villages and towns to those who need it. I’ve seen photos – they need it. But for now, until I have a class date in South Africa, I’m pretty much on a paid vacation here in Entebbe. Things could definitely be worse!

Speaking of Entebbe, for those of you who have been to Ensenada, Mexico, at first glance they are very similar. Some of the roads are paved, some aren’t. They installed speed bumps but you never drive too fast anyway because of all the potholes. They drive on the left and the steering wheel is on the right. Yesterday I was handed the keys and asked if I wanted to give it a shot but declined – 8 hours of jetlag and very little sleep the past three days equals a bad idea. I want to try it before I go though. The time difference by the way if you’re in the Midwest is 8 hours ahead, 10 if you’re on the west coast.

The Air Serv office is located at Entebbe International Airport. If you saw the movie The Last King of Scotland, airport terminal where General Amin kept the hostages is located right next to the Air Serv hangar. The terminal is undergoing renovation right now and the place is gutted but apparently the bullet holes are still visible where the Israeli Special Forces came and shot the place up.

One thing I’ve found interesting is despite the unfinished roads and the unfinished buildings (which remind me of Mexico), is the amount of technology in use. Cell phones work everywhere, and if you go into the corner convenience store they have electronic scanners and registers just like your local 7-Eleven. You go out to lunch and get a nice printed receipt just like the US. Uganda is unique in this regard and is why so many people come here for vacation. The local currency is the schilling and Uganda is one of the only African countries where they don’t accept American dollar.

The climate and scenery is tropical – it is very lush, green, humid and warm. Entebbe is directly on the equator but the temperature is comfortable due to the 4,000′ altitude and the breeze that blows off of Lake Victoria. There is no shortage of bugs and creepy-crawlies, and at night I sleep under a mosquito net. When the lights go out little lizards about the size of a gecko come out and line the walls and ceiling of my hotel room. They’re harmless and eat mosquitoes so I don’t mind having them around. It’s 1:45 am as I write this and I can’t see them but I can hear them running around up there. There are roosters all over and for whatever reason begin their cock-a-doodle-doo’s between 3:30 and 4 even the though the sun doesn’t begin to come up until about 6. This apparently upsets the dogs so they then begin to bark. The hotel doesn’t have any glass on the windows, only screens so it’s kinda like being on a farm I suppose. It doesn’t matter though – my schedule is all screwed up and I haven’t been sleeping at night anyway.

The Ugandan people are very friendly and make you feel welcome. Tourism is a big part of their economy and my guess is that might have a little something to do with it. But then again, they might just be that way. Tourism is a big part of the San Diego economy and I admit I was probably not as friendly to the tourists as I could have been. Everything is relative I guess.

For now that’s it. There is so much scenery and culture here it’s hard to put into words. I have photos and will get them uploaded asap.

~dj

07 MAR, 2007 – The Announcement

ADVENTURES IN HUMANITY – AFRICAN STYLE

Hello Everyone,

Some of you already know this, others don’t, and yet others I haven’t been in touch with in quite some time, but I wanted to give all of you an update on what I’m up to.

Early last month I sent my resume to Air Serv International, a humanitarian organization based out of Warrenton, VA. Shortly thereafter I was invited to visit the ASI headquarters for an orientation and interview. And as of this morning I was offered position flying a Cessna Caravan based out of Congo.

I accepted.

The ASI Mission Statement pretty much sums things up, so here you go: “Air Serv International is a non-profit humanitarian organization that uses aircraft to fly relief workers and supplies to help the victims of some of the most desperate situations in the world. We fly where others cannot–or will not–fly.”

ASI passengers include relief assessors, doctors, nurses, water engineers and nutritionists from organizations such as: Save the Children, CARE, World Vision, Doctors Without Borders, the International Red Cross, the World Food Program, and the U.N., among others. Other missions include refugee evacuations and air medevac (air ambulance). ASI is not affiliated with any government, corporation, or faith-based organization.

My USA departure date is April 2nd, my San Diego departure date is March 22nd.

I’ve decided to start a blog of this adventure that I will be keeping up to date as much as possible, although I don’t know where I’m going to post it yet – probably Myspace.

Please feel free to ask any questions you might have and I will do my best to answer them. You can also find more information is at www.airserv.org

Best Regards,

~dj