I'm not sure if the hesitance in answering such a simple question, "How old are you?" comes from people genuinely not being sure - or if there is some sort of translational hitch. Dealing with numbers in a nonnative language is notoriously difficult. Be that as it may, none of the visitors to the Fab Lab were able to answer me immediately, and with certainty.
The Fab Lab hosts a cadre of students from the local secondary school every day at 2 pm (except Friday, the sabbath). Today was my first day - as promised, I learned how to use a laser cutter.
The Fab Lab, according to the Wikipedia site, is "a small-scale workshop with an array of computer controlled tools that cover several different length scales and various materials, with the aim to make "almost anything". This includes technology-enabled products generally perceived as limited to mass production."
Wikipedia goes on to mention that the Fab Lab initiative was inspired, at least in part, by a course called "How to Make (Almost) Anything" (MAS.863). Thanks MIT OpencourseWare! I might have to look at your syllabus. I'm sure there are many suitable Fab Lab Projects contained therein. The kids here are already building satellite dishes... but maybe there are other things we could try.
So there is a laser cutter, a 3D wax (plastic?) printer, a vinyl cutter, and a bigass shop-bot that can cut wood - along with several computers. There arent enough chairs, however. I suggested that this might be a fine project for some of the students to take on - let's make chairs with the shop bot! But alas, there is not enough juice to run the shop bot. It's a power whore, and all of the power here comes from diesel. Which means that just to keep the lights on here costs about 9000 USD per month.
Of course, for the cost of a single month's operation a top of the line solar system could be installed - but the up-front funding simply isn't there. There are also local rivers whose potential energy could be hydrodynamically harnessed - but if there is not enough money for chairs, where are we going to get the money for the technology that would entail?
It was interesting to meet and interact with local students. Many do not have any English, but some are quite fluent. I met one young lady - Wahida. She taught me the first several letters of the Pashto alphabet and invited Adriana and myself to visit her home on Friday, which Dr. Dave assures us is a good thing.
Possibly the most heartening experience I had in the Fab Lab today was watching the nephew of M (our guide from the last installment) as he surfed the internet, in the manner of little boys. By little, I mean - he looks 13 or 14... It's hard to tell. One of the things I have noticed is that even the people who estimate themselves in their early twenties look to be in their thirties. In a country where the life expectancy is 41.5, the latest acceptable age for a girl to be married is 24 (I think).
Anyway, so, M's nephew. When I head in to the Laser Cutter room, homeboy is in there playing a first person shooter over the internet. With some other kids, who knows where. And my first thought is, "Hell yeah. THIS is what kids your age should be doing with a fatty internet connection." Unfortunately, I was unable to get a picture of him playing the game, because he saw me and kind of freaked a little and shut it down. I didn't even have a chance to ask him what he was playing.
So, as Jalal taught me the specifics of taking a black and white image into cad and sending it to the laser cutter, M's nephew opens a Yahoo! chat client and starts chatting with... people. Girl people! In English! One of the people he had a window going with was named - wait for it - BIG TITTYS. And I'm thinking, "Attaboy." He must have seen me watching, though, because he signs off with "ok I must go now talk with you leter." And then - like a professional slacker - homeboy opens up an excel spreadsheet and starts clicking around randomly, like he's actually doing shit.
I know that trick, kid. I'm just glad you know it too.
As for me, I'm feeling a little better. Sharp stomach pains still, but no fever and no more puking. Now my tonsils are sore. The bugs are on the move. Was considering heading down to the bar, as there are some interesting guests tonight, but Tim promised to take us out shooting at the range, so I kind of want to make sure I'm 100%. Carbines are the best kind of incentive.
We'll probably make a trip out the the university in a day or two.
Part of me really wants to kick this bug (or, these several bugs) but part of me is also in no hurry. Without arranging for an escort, there is no way to leave the Taj and wander around safely. That's the only real bummer. The accommodations here are world class, but it's not like I can just take to the city on foot, by myself. I'm obliged to spend a lot of time here. Which is a fine experience in and of itself.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Hey, Mister -
Remember that whole thing about being within 2 lbs of my goal weight? Fuck that. After traveling for 2 straight days, and then landing in a guest house with a full time cook and a lot of delicious nan, let's just say I am glad there is a weight room here.
The house I'm currently staying in was a UN compound, which is interesting because it was built to meet Minimum Operational Security Standards (MOSS). This means that there are some government agencies who are allowed to come visit the Taj (as we affectionately call it), who are not allowed to do things like, f'rinstance, go to the store without an armed escort. Which makes it hard to gather intelligence - cultural, military or otherwise. We have a lot of interesting guests. Thursday night the bar is open. I spent most of the evening chatting with some Blackwater dudes who were perfectly lovely people with wives and dogs, whip smart with a good sense of humor, sick of being in the field.
Unlike a lot of those guys, we can totally go to the store. We went today. Todd wanted to pick up a cellphone. A chinese cellphone. A chinese cellphone that takes two sim cards. And also can record video. Todd is what you would call a "power nerd."
Tim, our badass security detail, advised us that when we go afield we will be stared at. A lot.
I was in the circus, so I assured him that staring is not so much a problem. We were driven by the manager of the guest house, a local named M (I can pronounce, but not spell his name. I don't want to butcher it). So Todd and Adriana and I piled into the SUV with Virginia plates (most of the cars here were stolen. Also, most of them are Toyotas. Make of that what you will) and headed to downtown J-Bad, to the market.
I neglected to bring my camera, but Adriana brought hers. Mea culpa. Pictures later.
We parked on the side of the dirt road, weaved through sidewalk salesmen, buskers, begging children. It's damp and muddy right now. We took a flight of stairs into these catacombs - an electronics market. M led us to a specific booth - I'm guessing one run by his friend.
Now, Todd was in fairly native garb. Adriana and I, while wearing hijab, were also in sweatshirts and jeans. As we waited for the cellphone transaction to complete, we didn't just attract stares, we drew a crowd. In a subterranean space, this can be unnerving. A young guy behind me gave me a jostle - "Hey mister! Hey, mister!" I ignored him - unsure whether he was talking to me (he was) and not wanting to attract more attention. An older guy waiting in line told him off - so he came around the other side of the counter to look us the eye. "Hey mister - why you don't want to talk to me?"
I should mention that while there is a lot of poverty, and a lot of hungry and dirty people, there is a cross section of Afghan men who are wicked handsome. (M is one) And everyone is charming. Hey-Mister was young, maybe around 20 or a little older, and dedicated the next several minutes to giving us dazzling grins and slapping Todd on the back good-naturedly while Todd disassembled and inspected ten different chinese cell phones.
There was a dense crowd of around 30 folks - all men, all ages. Adriana took her camera out and asked M if it would be ok to take some shots. "Sure," he says. "No problem." As soon as she took her camera out, everyone was smiles and handshakes and posing for pictures. There was absolutely zero resentment or hostility. Everyone just wanted to make friends. Turns out Hey-Mister is an english teacher, attending university, and likes Mike Tyson.
We did head from the electronics market to the dressmaker, however. If moving quickly and subtly is of the essence, i want to blend. Adriana and I both got some highly modest native garb - the jeans and sneakers would be a dead giveaway, but with Todd's crazy beard I daresay we might be able to get a little lost in a crowd, if there is a need.
Out in the open streets we got some long stares, sure. But there was none of the claustrophobic mobbing like there had been underground. I guess it was a feature of the architecture but it was a strange place to land in the market.
The in-flight magazine from Dubai to Kabul, poorly translated from Pashto, contained a comic strip depicting the ten different kinds of beggars one is likely to meet in Afghanistan. It was sad, and funny. I'm pretty sure I saw some of them. Hell, I recognized some of them from Hollywood. But when we go back to the market to pick up our dresses from the tailor I won't be nearly so reserved. I am looking forward to shaking more hands, and taking more pictures.
The house I'm currently staying in was a UN compound, which is interesting because it was built to meet Minimum Operational Security Standards (MOSS). This means that there are some government agencies who are allowed to come visit the Taj (as we affectionately call it), who are not allowed to do things like, f'rinstance, go to the store without an armed escort. Which makes it hard to gather intelligence - cultural, military or otherwise. We have a lot of interesting guests. Thursday night the bar is open. I spent most of the evening chatting with some Blackwater dudes who were perfectly lovely people with wives and dogs, whip smart with a good sense of humor, sick of being in the field.
Unlike a lot of those guys, we can totally go to the store. We went today. Todd wanted to pick up a cellphone. A chinese cellphone. A chinese cellphone that takes two sim cards. And also can record video. Todd is what you would call a "power nerd."
Tim, our badass security detail, advised us that when we go afield we will be stared at. A lot.
I was in the circus, so I assured him that staring is not so much a problem. We were driven by the manager of the guest house, a local named M (I can pronounce, but not spell his name. I don't want to butcher it). So Todd and Adriana and I piled into the SUV with Virginia plates (most of the cars here were stolen. Also, most of them are Toyotas. Make of that what you will) and headed to downtown J-Bad, to the market.
I neglected to bring my camera, but Adriana brought hers. Mea culpa. Pictures later.
We parked on the side of the dirt road, weaved through sidewalk salesmen, buskers, begging children. It's damp and muddy right now. We took a flight of stairs into these catacombs - an electronics market. M led us to a specific booth - I'm guessing one run by his friend.
Now, Todd was in fairly native garb. Adriana and I, while wearing hijab, were also in sweatshirts and jeans. As we waited for the cellphone transaction to complete, we didn't just attract stares, we drew a crowd. In a subterranean space, this can be unnerving. A young guy behind me gave me a jostle - "Hey mister! Hey, mister!" I ignored him - unsure whether he was talking to me (he was) and not wanting to attract more attention. An older guy waiting in line told him off - so he came around the other side of the counter to look us the eye. "Hey mister - why you don't want to talk to me?"
I should mention that while there is a lot of poverty, and a lot of hungry and dirty people, there is a cross section of Afghan men who are wicked handsome. (M is one) And everyone is charming. Hey-Mister was young, maybe around 20 or a little older, and dedicated the next several minutes to giving us dazzling grins and slapping Todd on the back good-naturedly while Todd disassembled and inspected ten different chinese cell phones.
There was a dense crowd of around 30 folks - all men, all ages. Adriana took her camera out and asked M if it would be ok to take some shots. "Sure," he says. "No problem." As soon as she took her camera out, everyone was smiles and handshakes and posing for pictures. There was absolutely zero resentment or hostility. Everyone just wanted to make friends. Turns out Hey-Mister is an english teacher, attending university, and likes Mike Tyson.
We did head from the electronics market to the dressmaker, however. If moving quickly and subtly is of the essence, i want to blend. Adriana and I both got some highly modest native garb - the jeans and sneakers would be a dead giveaway, but with Todd's crazy beard I daresay we might be able to get a little lost in a crowd, if there is a need.
Out in the open streets we got some long stares, sure. But there was none of the claustrophobic mobbing like there had been underground. I guess it was a feature of the architecture but it was a strange place to land in the market.
The in-flight magazine from Dubai to Kabul, poorly translated from Pashto, contained a comic strip depicting the ten different kinds of beggars one is likely to meet in Afghanistan. It was sad, and funny. I'm pretty sure I saw some of them. Hell, I recognized some of them from Hollywood. But when we go back to the market to pick up our dresses from the tailor I won't be nearly so reserved. I am looking forward to shaking more hands, and taking more pictures.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
1. Never get involved in a land war in Asia.
2. Don't make fun of Blackwater on the Dubai-Kabul flight. All those big surly white dudes you see? Not on vacation.
3. Jalalabad Road, which connects Kabul and J-Bad, isn't as deadly for nimble civilian vehicles as it is for armored caravans of military personnel.
4. The nimble part is important, however. You do not want to get stuck behind donkeys. Or armored caravans of military personnel.
5. Taliban may be identified by their style of shoes and pants.
6. For some tribes, illiteracy is considered a virtue. Ironically, these are the ones whose attitude toward women is most egalitarian. The reason being: if you're nomadic sheep farmers, losing half of your work force is not an option.
7. The guest house where I am staying is currently providing the internet access for both the university and the hospital in J-Bad. The satellite dish is INFLATABLE! Pictures soon.
8. We are also the only bar in eastern Afghanistan. The firepit is made of mud. And love.
9. There is a tribe from Nepal who so impressed the British with their mercenary skills (100 years ago) that they have become a de facto race of assassins, and are chosen for security applications by westerners throughout asia still today. They are politically distinct from locals and dedicated professionals, as one would expect.
10. Call to prayer at 4:30 in the morning? Really? Really.
3. Jalalabad Road, which connects Kabul and J-Bad, isn't as deadly for nimble civilian vehicles as it is for armored caravans of military personnel.
4. The nimble part is important, however. You do not want to get stuck behind donkeys. Or armored caravans of military personnel.
5. Taliban may be identified by their style of shoes and pants.
6. For some tribes, illiteracy is considered a virtue. Ironically, these are the ones whose attitude toward women is most egalitarian. The reason being: if you're nomadic sheep farmers, losing half of your work force is not an option.
7. The guest house where I am staying is currently providing the internet access for both the university and the hospital in J-Bad. The satellite dish is INFLATABLE! Pictures soon.
8. We are also the only bar in eastern Afghanistan. The firepit is made of mud. And love.
9. There is a tribe from Nepal who so impressed the British with their mercenary skills (100 years ago) that they have become a de facto race of assassins, and are chosen for security applications by westerners throughout asia still today. They are politically distinct from locals and dedicated professionals, as one would expect.
10. Call to prayer at 4:30 in the morning? Really? Really.
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