Snow

I’ve never seen such elaborate snow-people as those in Kabul. Along the streets I see detailed snowmen with snow-hats and snow-coats, 10-feet high snow women with scandalous figures, and even snow-children riding snow-animals.

But the snow quickly turns to slush and mud, flooding the roads with puddles four inches deep. My shoe has a hole in it – just another bit of discomfort to deal with. It’s the only pair I’ve brought, and there’s no chance of buying a new pair before I leave. So I squelch around the muddy streets and change socks often.

More disturbing in all this is the lack of a sewage system in Kabul. There’s nothing. Just holes in the ground and open trenches on the street. I met a man who is bidding on the contract to build Kabul’s sewage system. “Did you know that Kabul has the highest percentage of fecal matter in its air of any city in the world?” he asked me.

No. And I’ll be wearing my headscarf wrapped bandit-style around my face this summer, when the dust storms rage across the city. But now, in the sloppy winter, I try not to think too hard about what exactly is in those puddles.