|Afghani security are quickly on the streets looking down towards the blast|
Still shaking I eventually retreat into my bedroom, sit on my bed and try to calm down. In all my years of traveling to these types of countries it's my first and closest experience of how fragile the day to day life here is. The "old man", our housekeeper comes upstairs and tells me it's okay. It was merely a bomb in some garbage meant for an Afghani police truck. Nothing to worry about. As I looked into his calm elderly eyes I suddenly realized just how different our two worlds are. Two bombs in Boston is international news, a tragedy that resonates throughout our country and beyond and makes me ache for home, making the final ten days of Kabul seem like an eternity. While here in Afghanistan it's par for the course. Nothing to worry about. Within 20 minutes life is back to normal. Traffic is moving, people are walking down the street going about their business and my translator arrives barely acknowledging what has just happened. It probably won't even make news back home. A bomb in Kabul, no shit. It's Afghanistan!
As I write this I grab a new cup of coffee and settle in to the work I still have ahead of me. Flashes of images from the Finish Line in Boston are in the forefront of my mind. The only difference is I now have a sound to associate with the pictures. The booming noise of hatred, intolerance and disruption of all I hold sacred.
|Afghanis looking on as all traffic is stopped.|
|Within minutes life begins to go back to normal. Just another day in paradise.|