I went with one of my teams to their site yesterday and got to meet some of our Afghan counterparts.
I also got to share in their labors. I spent the morning out in the sun, unpacking crates of greasy weapons and reading off registration numbers for my chaplain assistant to log to make sure we were tracking all of them. I understand better why our guys often come back so tired. The team was grateful for two extra sets of hands (increased their output for the day), and while this labor was not chaplain-specific or necessary for me to partake in, it builds my credibility with the soldiers and enables me to spend time with them in the work they are here to do.
Most of our teams include our Aussie and Canadian friends. I enjoyed working alongside two of the Canadian soldiers yesterday. One of them is an avid rock-climber and student. Since he has arrived, he has mastered portions of the Dari language, enabling him to engage in conversation with our Afghan friends and endearing himself to them. (The two best things you can do to engage a culture and love a people is to learn their language and share meals with them in their homes.)
The other Canadian has an ever-growing hankering for McDonalds. I understand entirely. God bless the golden arches. There was often nothing I craved more after trip to Malawi than a basic hamburger from McDs. I know they're not real burgers, but that is part of why I enjoy them. If I want a real burger, I'll grill one. If I want patty on a greased-up, compressed bun, with just a bit of ketchup and mustard, a sprinkling of diced onions, and my favorite part--two pickle slices--then I'll go to McDs. The Canadians told me that I should do food infomercials (I tried explaining the joy of sushi to them and the beautiful burn of the wasabi experience.)
As with most of our Afghan counterparts, these men were hard-working and friendly. One comedian from their group, knowing that we couldn't understand each other's languages, shared with us the gift of humor. He flicked my dog tags through my shirt and made a clicking sound with his tongue that sounded like breaking glass (pretty cool). He saved the worst for one of my Canadian friends. He seemed to be curiously thumbing his dog tag, causing the Canadian to look down, at which point the Afghan employed the ol' childhood trick and flicked the Canadian's nose. Oh, and this Afghan could throw a stone 30-50% further than our biggest coalition soldiers. Probably spent more time practicing that skill growing up than we did!
In many ways, as I have told other soldiers, there are similarities between this country and Malawi--from the arid, wind-swept landscape to the smell of wood fires to the general friendliness and hospitality of many of the people. The key difference is that for every nine or so people who love you, there is probably one who wants to kill you. That, of course, is what keeps me from hiking into villages as I did in Malawi. It is what keeps our soldiers vigilant, delicately balancing the bonds of trust necessary for advising with the reality that there is always a minor risk of danger. May God give our soldiers wisdom in maintaining that balance!
