Home Away From Home

Courtyard of the Front Houses

The Office
(laundry room door open on L.)

Saturn House
(my room, ground floor, L)

Mercury House Porch
(at back of photo)

Mea Culpa

I was wrong. I made an error. I must apologize for an unfair characterization of a U.S. jewelry supplier. I had said they dropped the ball on the electrical equipment we received for our shop. Last week I actually LOOKED at the handpiece motors--and right there on the back was a sticker that said the motor is wired for 230 volts. It was the plug that threw me, but no excuse; now having the proper configuration of connection to the power source, all the flexshafts are working fine. And indeed the bigger, more powerful step-down transformer has the buffer a real work-horse. All's well that ends well. Mea culpa!

Progress and Training In Chicken Street

I've been sick. Again. This is the second bout with "The Aztec Two-Step". I had a go-round with altitude sickness in between. My friend told me I would be. (She knows who she is.)  "Just forget about it. You're gonna get sick, everybody does. Flies go everywhere." So, it's taken several extra days to get this post up. Forgive me. However, in my delirium on Saturday, the TV fairies did charge the satellite card and make my borrowed set work! Ah, news...in English. Thanks, Staff! Shout out to Alison!!!

What  will become my bench
(note the "hot-wired" A/C, now
properly wired and vented at left)

Early in the planning for this project it occurred to me to inquire in which era of history the craftsmen for the training would be working. Would it be Neolithic? Bronze Age? Iron Age?. How I would approach structuring the lessons would depend on the answer. I was assured that it would be Iron Age. But barely in the electrical age. The equipment I've come to rely on in my studio just doesn't work here. It's tough to teach modern techniques without modern tools. Part of the problem was breakdown of communication between the procurement people in-country and the U.S. supplier. Even though in the first talks I had I was persuaded by the company that they routinely ship abroad and knew the local systems requirements. They dropped the ball. Procurement didn't know to catch it. I'm screwed. All the stuff that needs plugged in came 110 volts. The power here is 220. I've tried several fixes to no avail. I know little more about electricity than AC/DC, 110v/220v and don't stick scissors in a wall outlet (I was three years old)! The handpieces blow fuses on the step-down transformers and run slowly with no umph. The buffer motor kicks off from an internal breaker after 7 minutes. ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!! I'm told there's a more powerful transformer (also more expensive) that will do the trick. We'll see...

Buffer-in-Progress

The Professionals
Gem Cutters in front
Jewelers, back right

Mujeeb, Professional Jeweler
at work

Anyhow, the training continues at Shams Market. So many new, inexperienced trainees showed up that I've had to split the group in two. And the schedule has changed so many times I don't even know who will come on a given day. I just show up and deal. Have I mentioned how chaotic this country is to outsiders? The good news is that the professionals, for whom the project was intended, have crossed a cultural divide and "complained", they weren't getting what was advertised. They then followed up by asking specifically for what they want to learn. A breakthrough! I can do that. So, we are going to do some fancy gem setting, beyond bezels and prongs. The men have asked to be shown flat setting, channel setting and pave' techniques. While I make a mean bezel in a good number of forms, I've done little of the above. I believe the mark of a true professional is to be able to make adjustments on the fly. Anyone who knows me knows I don't respond well to sudden change (OK, change. Period.) This will be a "baptism by fire", and I am equal to the challenge.



The Torch
runs on propane-no regulator
(these guys do amazing work with it)



There is supposed to be a show of sorts at some American installation on Friday. Again, the details and the level of involvement by our trainees has changed daily. This is supposed to be a much needed opportunity to reach the desired market of military, contractor and ex-pat buyers. A report on this later...



Jim and our Translators
Rasoul and Fazel



I have, this week, extended my time into September. Ramazan is half over, time grows short and some trainees have asked for extended studio hours. I am ever-optimistic to get in all I can in terms of training shared. I WILL be home in time for Fall Parks and Rec.

So, enjoy the pics of the facility and some of the people involved.

Still to come: Success in the Training and Scenes of Kabul

No Straight Lines; AA in Afghanistan

I believe there are no straight lines in Afghanistan. Apart from, perhaps, the runways of military installations, nothing goes straight for long here. It becomes apparent as soon as you arrive. Buildings aren't in neat rows as I'm accustomed. They angle and jut and careen around the mountainsides of Kabul. In true primitive manner most of the structures of age are built of mud-brick--adobe as I know it. Almost by definition they rarely rise above two stories. All are added onto as necessities arise. Never in straight lines. In the market what sidewalks there are rise and fall almost as if they "grew" there. They weave and undulate under one's feet. No straight lines. And the traffic, a subject on which I have already held forth (see: Traffic and Turquoise Mountain); no straight lines. Consequently the pedestrians, whether on sidewalk or street, must execute broken-field running the likes of which would put any NFL'er to shame. No straight lines!

Within a week of my advent in Kabul I checked the internet for the listing of international AA meetings. I found one here. I made contact with the individual facilitating the meeting and made arrangements to attend. Alas, I was thwarted in my first attempt due to some glitches in security protocol. Having ironed out  those wrinkles I made it to the next meeting the following week. A driver took me to the UNAMA compound where I was passed through security.

At the guard shack I met Scott. After the pleasantries were exchanged we began to walk onto the base. Ahead I saw hundreds of yards of level, unbroken pavement. A straight line that seemed to go on forever! I experienced a sense of release I can only liken to that of a prisoner set free upon completing a jail term. Freedom!!! I could walk at a brisk pace, unimpeded for the first time in weeks. A straight line.

Scott is an old hand at this "international" stuff. He's done the government thing and now is in humanitarian endeavors. We have somewhat similar geographic backgrounds. We traded "war stories" on our jaunt to the meeting room. He told me of being in-country for some months this time and only receiving one other inquiry from his internet posting. We had a reading and discussion and a very good meeting. Afterward we went to a small nearby restaraunt  on base and enjoyed freshly made pizza and more good conversation. It was good to get out. I took away not only serenity from that meeting but a sense of general good will knowing that AA members are truly active in sobriety all around the world. And I'm going back this week for more.

Next: More on Chicken Street

Shopping Trip: Camels on My Feet

Shortly before Coco returned to her regular life, we accompanied her on another shopping trip.We had already been to Zardozi's, a well known clothing, accessories and home furnishings emporium (complete with high-walled courtyard and armed guards). There I bought my pakool hat as seen in the photo with Johann, taken on the porch at Mercury House.

Swiss Sons of Different Mothers





On this day we were off to the leather shop, the glass shop and the tailor. The leather store is walking distance from the training location in Chicken Street. Jim and I were there to buy sandals and Coco thought she might buy a bag, if it didn't smell too much like dead something. Jim is a big fellow, 6' 1" and somewhere north of 280 lbs. Fair to say he dwarfs most Afghans. All around Shams' Market the street kids know him as "Mr. Big Show"! Of course there were no sandals in stock for a size 14 foot. He had to be measured for a custom fit. It's possible the leather crafter never before made bigger footwear. I, on the other hand, found a lovely pair of lightly detailed sandals in a natural tan camel leather. I had fun thinking of how, for years, I had smoked Camels and now I'm wearing camels on my feet. Jim would actually return twice for his new slip-ons, as they had to be let out even more on the second visit. Coco ultimately did not make a purchase.

Jim the Director on the Porch at Mercury House

Not so at the Herati glass shop on our way to the armored vehicle. In fact, Coco bought more than a handful of beautiful Afghan glassware pieces and returned for even more on the day of her departure. Mostly these were intended as gifts back home. I'll have some pics of the blue and green beauties when I make my purchases. After Coco they need to "blow some more"!

From there, on our retail therapy quest, we travelled to the tailor. Jim and I wanted to order sewn-to-fit traditional Afghan clothing. The ubiquitous men's garb of Southwest Asia, and indeed much of the Muslim world, is the Shalwar Kameez. It consists of loosely fitting, drawstring-waisted trousers (shalwar) and a long-sleeved, knee-lenghth shirt (kameez). Jim chose two suits in all cotton; one dark tan and the other gray, both with the ring-type collar. I picked a cotton version in the ever-slimming black with a fly-away collar. Once we were measured, and having payed in advance, we were told to return in two days. It would, in fact, be more than 5 days. Afghan time...Coco pressed into service a number of handy "male models" to help determine a size for a kameez as a gift. She was told to return in a few hours and it would be finished. Don't tell me a young, attractive woman can't get her way around here.

Mr. Aziz and Johann Outside the Chow Hall at Saturn House

When I finally got my new duds from the tailor shop, Johann, the Agribiz Guy (a Swiss native) and I made a grand entrance to dinner. Dressed in my local finery, Mr. Aziz, the Cook proclaimed my readiness to "walk in the bazaar". I may be starting to blend in.

Next up: No Straight Lines; AA in Afghanistan