VBIED

And then, the next morning, as I was sipping tea upon the balcony, I heard a sullen boom. I looked about for a plume of smoke, saw none, shrugged, and figured I was being paranoid. Besides, we were running late, should have been out the door ten minutes ago, and I had other things to worry about.

Ten minutes later, we were off and I was calling security to get an update on the areas we’d be going to, only to learn that the emergency vehicles racing ahead of us were on their way to the scene of an explosion. We quickly altered our route.

No one knew what had caused the explosion, but I had an unsettled feeling, and fervently hoped it was simply a gas canister exploding. We drove to Nangahar and visited more “settled” Kuchis, who lived in mud brick houses on land they owned, rather than in tents. However, we stepped into the middle of a simmering conflict. The Kuchis claimed that the government had given their lands to returning refugees, and there had been fighting in the village three weeks earlier. The conflict had not yet been resolved. We ended up talking to them about this more than anything else, and it’s still unclear what the real situation is. But a mere twenty minutes into our conversation, an Afghan security officer popped up to inform us we should inform him before we came there, due to the situation. Now my unease increased. Obviously, we weren’t traveling incognito.

We returned to Jalalabad, sunburned and stuffed with tea and yogurt, and there we learned the explosion had been a VBIED - Vehicle Borne Explosive Device, i.e., car bomb. My colleague and I decided to stay off the streets, and we spent the remainder of the afternoon lying about in an enclosed garden, eating almonds and pistachios like pashas. Okay, our decision was admittedly less about heeding the UN warning and more about being tired and lazy. And I suspect we shocked the Afghan guards at our guesthouse. I see lots of men lying around, but the women are always working. Women with leisure time?! The horror!