Kandahar: Inside and out
TheStar.com December 15, 2007 Mitch Potter TORONTO STAR
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One year after his last tour in this embattled land shared by wary Canadians and war-weary Afghans, the Star's Mitch Potter returns to find that things have become better . . . and worse
KANDAHAR – A Canadian soldier throws a dubious, better-you-than-me glance as he opens the fortified gate allowing passage into the tumultuous beyond that is Kandahar city.
Out there, the prize of the entire Afghan mission still waits to be claimed. And if you are wondering whether it is better or worse than this time last year, the answer, most vexingly, is yes. Kandahar is better – and worse – than it was.
Westerners don't often exit the Canadian provincial reconstruction team headquarters, but when they do, the journey usually involves armoured convoys rather than simply walking out the door, as the Toronto Star is doing today.
On the other side, two hours late, our Afghan interpreter is waiting in a beat-up civilian vehicle, smiling sheepishly. He lost track of the time during midday prayers. It must have been God's will, he suggests with a wink.
In the no man's land between these two solitudes, we encounter a brazen young Afghan boy, cute as a button, who sings a mantra of his only English words: "Hi! Shocolate. Gum. Candy ... Canada!" And a much older Afghan man, a greybeard with a diseased eye, who is treading dangerous close to the armed Canadian gatekeepers in the desperate hope that someone – anyone – with financial means will assist his medical predicament.
On this day, there is no chocolate for the youngster, no doctor for the elder. Instead, the Canadian soldiers at the gate have been busy working hand-held metal detectors on the steady parade of Afghan contractors who comprise the majority of the traffic into the compound. They are here for money.
"We try to stay friendly with the locals – but within limits. Some days, we give the kids candy; some days, they bombard us with stones," says one of the soldiers, who asked that his name not be published.
"The worst is when they decide to pick on the local dogs. This place is a living hell for dogs. If you are an animal in Afghanistan and you don't have enough meat on your bones to be food, you are screwed. We've had a lot of dogs crawl through our gates just to die after they've been attacked with stones. It's twisted."
This is our second week wandering the city unembedded and our anxiety level has fallen accordingly. Kandahar today is not Saigon before the fall; it is not even Baghdad before the surge. The general mood of the city has lifted somewhat in recent months, if only because the scourge of suicide attacks lately has shifted to the capital Kabul, a day's drive away, giving Kandahar something of a respite.
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TheStar.com December 15, 2007 Mitch Potter TORONTO STAR
Article Link
One year after his last tour in this embattled land shared by wary Canadians and war-weary Afghans, the Star's Mitch Potter returns to find that things have become better . . . and worse
KANDAHAR – A Canadian soldier throws a dubious, better-you-than-me glance as he opens the fortified gate allowing passage into the tumultuous beyond that is Kandahar city.
Out there, the prize of the entire Afghan mission still waits to be claimed. And if you are wondering whether it is better or worse than this time last year, the answer, most vexingly, is yes. Kandahar is better – and worse – than it was.
Westerners don't often exit the Canadian provincial reconstruction team headquarters, but when they do, the journey usually involves armoured convoys rather than simply walking out the door, as the Toronto Star is doing today.
On the other side, two hours late, our Afghan interpreter is waiting in a beat-up civilian vehicle, smiling sheepishly. He lost track of the time during midday prayers. It must have been God's will, he suggests with a wink.
In the no man's land between these two solitudes, we encounter a brazen young Afghan boy, cute as a button, who sings a mantra of his only English words: "Hi! Shocolate. Gum. Candy ... Canada!" And a much older Afghan man, a greybeard with a diseased eye, who is treading dangerous close to the armed Canadian gatekeepers in the desperate hope that someone – anyone – with financial means will assist his medical predicament.
On this day, there is no chocolate for the youngster, no doctor for the elder. Instead, the Canadian soldiers at the gate have been busy working hand-held metal detectors on the steady parade of Afghan contractors who comprise the majority of the traffic into the compound. They are here for money.
"We try to stay friendly with the locals – but within limits. Some days, we give the kids candy; some days, they bombard us with stones," says one of the soldiers, who asked that his name not be published.
"The worst is when they decide to pick on the local dogs. This place is a living hell for dogs. If you are an animal in Afghanistan and you don't have enough meat on your bones to be food, you are screwed. We've had a lot of dogs crawl through our gates just to die after they've been attacked with stones. It's twisted."
This is our second week wandering the city unembedded and our anxiety level has fallen accordingly. Kandahar today is not Saigon before the fall; it is not even Baghdad before the surge. The general mood of the city has lifted somewhat in recent months, if only because the scourge of suicide attacks lately has shifted to the capital Kabul, a day's drive away, giving Kandahar something of a respite.
More on link
