Shaked

I was up early and immediately recognized the loud boom, followed by another one not that much later as suicide attacks. One gets to learn these sounds. I went on Twitter to find out what other twitterers in Kabul had found out and within seconds the tweets started to come in. It was fascinating – the speculations, the observations, near misses. All the reporters in Kabul were tweeting like crazy (some of them still are). Within half an hour we had received an SMS from our security what was happening where and that all transport was grounded.

Our security chief had the bad luck of living near the site of the bombs. His windows were shattered but no one was hurt. All of us on or off twitter guessed whether it was this target or that target until the most obvious of all, something British, emerged – it was after all the 92nd anniversary day of the liberation from the British. No entirely, the bombs seemed to say.

Because the entire city went into siege mode, my early morning massage plans collapsed until Lisa offered to come to our side of town. And so I ended spending an entire morning and the beginning of the afternoon hanging out with Razia jan at her house where Lisa and her crew got busy relaxing and prettifying our bodies.

Razia jan and I had planned to go to Chicken Street together afterwards to pick up Paula’s patchwork quilts that Ibrahim had ready in his Chicken Street store. We were on our way when the security chief rescinded his ‘all clear.’ The fighting had not stopped and everyone was on high alert. We turned around, dropped Raise jan off at her home and me at mine. Despite the massage I remained tense and ended up taking a long nap. It helped a little but the tension remains – it is not possible to shrug these attacks off despite the fact that life does go on for people who live in other neighborhoods and we all pretend that we’re OK.

At dinner time I returned to Razia for an exquisite dinner, just the two of us. All dinners are exquisite at her house but this one broke all records. We watched the grim news about bombs exploding in Kabul and across the border in the Khyber territory and tried not to get too outraged or depressed.

I posted a notice on facebook that indicated the current reading on my going-home-counter. It now reads 18 days, 19 hours, 31 minutes and 15 seconds. Many people ‘liked’ it. Axel skyped me to say that he is counting right along with me.

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