I've been shopping for Kanani's husband here lately. (see previous post)Seems you can find flip flops, shower shoes whatever you want to call them are a dollar at craft stores like Michael's and Hobby Lobby. I'll post more about what has been collected thus far, but in the meantime I have a blog I want you to go take a look at. It's one of those start at the a beginning blogs...well it is for me. The pictures, his prose, his ability to convey deployment experience makes his writing almost palpable.

Blogs like this give me the eyes and ears I don't have being a civilian trying to assist my adopted troops the best way I can. I want to know the environment, the mindset and the experiences, social, political and military in order to be useful. Blogs like Afghan Quest written by an deployed Army NCO are a touchstone for that.

Here are some stark, captivating and poignant excerpts from some of his work in late winter/early spring 2007.

On the Taliban:

It has been written that the people are the water that the insurgent fish swims in. Part of our job is to separate him from the water. I’m sure that I’ve looked right into Taliban eyes by now. I just can’t be sure which ones. I won’t take action against someone I’m not sure is an enemy. But to ignore them is to court
disaster.

On navigating the emotions of deployment:

So, to re-center myself for now; I am getting to spend time with my kids. I am getting to enjoy them, and spend time with them, and let them know that their dad loves them so very much. They are enjoying the sense of peace as much as I am. There will pain when I leave again, this time for a bit longer… but there is time for that when it is time to feel it. It will be a rich emotion, too. It is life, and thank God that I can feel anything.For today, I am enjoying being in my home city, being with my children, being with family and friends. I am grateful for all of this, and for all of them. We are alive.

Here's a piece on a crescent moonrise a few days ago:

I noticed tonight that Kabul twinkles at night. I don’t know what it is, but the lights of Kabul twinkle much like stars embedded in a fabric that climbs up the mountains like a Christmas tree blanket over a tree stand. They are not all the same dull yellowish color or blue-tinted white of American city lights. There seem to be many colors, from bright white to bright red, muted greens and yellowish glares. It almost seems festive, and I ponder the many lives being lived next to the twinkling points; the children growing up in this dusty city heaving itself slowly out of the quagmire of war’s rubble, barely daring to hope for a future with a bit of liberty.

It’s too much to consider.

I notice an almost ominous glow behind one of the mountains. Back home such a glow would signal some sort of large event. Here, as I forgot, it heralds the coming of the moon. What I see is the bright light of earth’s largest satellite glowing like an approaching car’s headlights. The far side of the mountain is already bathed in its light, but here on the other side, I stand in shadow, slowly realizing that it is the moon and not some great social event or impending disaster.

A bright, unblinking light appears atop the mountain. It is the tip of the crescent which momentarily becomes apparent; a triangle, its sharpened tip growing taller at a surprising rate. Within seconds, it begins to resemble a shark’s tooth breaking free of the mountainous jaw, jutting skyward. This effect grows and is not lost until the moon is nearly free of the grasp of the mountain. Finally, the nearly half-moon rests for a few seconds atop the mountain, seemingly paused there as if resting from the effort.

The illusion is broken; the moon separates itself from the mountain and resumes its climb. The moonshadow begins to retreat towards the moon, slowly racing across the valley towards the base of the opposing mountain as the moon literally shines like a muted sun on the glittering city of Kabul. The moon is risen.

I think it took less than two minutes. Some things just leave me shaking my head slowly and muttering about beauty to myself, alone in the dark.

See?

Go visit Afghan Quest.