Girls, Guns, and Golf

Yesterday morning I braved the Kabul golf course again, this time in the company of three women golfers and two armed body guards (the PC term of the moment is "close protection workers"). The course had greened up a bit from my last visit, but it was still mainly rock-strewn dirt pitted with furrows and trenches (handy for diving into should one come under attack). Add the threat of mines, and the course is a sort of extreme golf, with the balls ricocheting off stray rocks, bumping over the uneven earth, and flying across (or into) deep canyons, and I wondered aloud if the ladies weren't going to find smooth green courses too easy when they got home.

"Are you kidding?" B said, leaning on her rent-a-club that looked like it came from a 1970's garage sale. "I don't think I"ll be able to golf without my shooters."