Mohammed was a cat lover.

Apparently, he cut off the sleeve of one of his robes, rather than rouse the cat sleeping upon it. In Islam, it's totally ok to drink from a vessel after a cat has. Also, you can be condemned to hell for mistreating a cat. But anyone on 4chan could have told you that.

Contrast this with dogs. The angels of Allah will not enter the home of one who owns a dog! Anyone who keeps a dog for any reason other than hunting or farming will lose the benefits of one of his good deeds for the day. And if a dog drinks from one of your utensils, it is necessary to wash that thing *seven times*

Now, dogs are cool. I'd like a dog someday. It's hard to get behind the stringent anti-dog prohibitions. But I'm an avowed cat person. It is very hard for me to find fault with a prophet who, by all historical accounts, loved his kitty very much. Peace be upon him!

Anyway. The whole city is winding down. It's the last few days of Ramadan, and people are preparing for Eid, the festival that will follow. For three days, observants will visit family, attend religious services, and eat a lot of food. Then, effectively, summer vacation is over. Everyone will go back to school.

I don't regret coming, not a bit. However, the combined effects of pregnancy and Ramadan made this trip uncomfortable. I had a hard time keeping up with Fary's busy visiting schedule. I can get along fine in my default state without eating once every couple of hours. Beanface, however, demands frequent and substantial tribute and punishes me with nausea and cramps if I don't comply.

And truth be told, all of our hosts were very accommodating, even if they didn't know about my condition. Frequently we were offered meals or drinks, always with the disclaimer that, "we cannot join you, but you are our guests.." Of course, the polite thing is to turn this down. . So it was hard even to bring small snacks to consume in my bag. I would have had to eat them in front of our hosts. No lunch at the guest house either, unless by special request, and I always feel bad asking the guys to cook while they're fasting.. even though they would. So I stayed home more often than I would have liked. Going out for more than a couple hours was uncomfortable and even worse than the cramps and nausea is the feeling that my pokey ass is compromising our mission somehow. On more than one occasion I was asked by a new Afghan friend, "You look like you're fasting. You don't have to fast. Are you fasting?" No, but I am home to a rapidly growing symbiote who is consuming all of my calories. I might as well be.

At any other time, this would not have been an issue. We would have been obliged to sit and eat lavish meals and drink bladder-bursting quantities of tea for hours over small talk. But then I'd probably be complaining about my bladder. I can hear it now, "OMG, the gallons and gallons of tea! The social and hydrostatic pressure..!" Silly alternative universe Me. You don't know how well you have it.

I will be leaving in the middle of Eid. Hopefully traffic will have died down. In anticipation of the feasting, people have been spilling into the city to buy groceries and new clothes, creating impassible traffic.

I'm looking forward to coming home soon. I feel like I've done well at the hospital, but no school was in session, so there were no opportunities to teach like last time. And while it was delightful to visit the Global Connection Exchange Program participants on various campuses, developing a real relationship with locals was not so much on the menu.

And I didnt leave the house as much as I would have liked. The elections are coming soon, and violence is lately more frequent and less predictable. I didn't get to go shopping at all. And now, it is nearly Eid. Assuming I could manage to wedge myself into the market, it would be very difficult to do so safely. And everything is marked up by 200%. I should have made arrangements to visit the bazaar weeks ago. Totally screwed the pooch on that one.

One thing different about this trip - I spent a lot of time on military bases. I'll be writing more about this in days to come. There's a lot to process. It was strange. At first, I felt like hanging out on the base was a waste of time in Afghanistan. It's basically like a postage stamp of America plunked down in the middle of a foreign country and surrounded by concrete and barbed wire. Moreover, most on the base are effectively stuck there, or unable to leave without 30 soldiers and a convoy. To these folks, military or state department, the thought of living in the city and moving about freely inspires both fear and envy. But I came to see these qualities as fascinating in and of themselves. It's a culture that is precise and yet inefficient, so organized and yet so ineffectual. And because it has the pleasures and comforts of home, it is desperately at odds with the people and environment it is attempting to control. It became a pleasure to accompany my military colleagues for the fun of sightseeing. Besides, where else in Afghanistan can you get a guacamole cheeseburger?

Now in my last several days in-country, I'll be tying up loose ends at the Taj, ordering parts for the broken ultrasound, floating in the scintillating pool, and counting the kicks and punches of my now mango-sized passenger. The Bean has become a Jumping Bean! Mostly active right after dinner, and right before I drift off to sleep. Woke me up once, with a hearty THWAP to the pelvic region...Mighty Kung Fu Bean!