Here is the latest Nathaniel's most recent letter back from Afghanistan. Once Oxfam starts their blog up and running, I will provide links to them all, but for now, I think I'll stick to the ones that are sort of funny and telling at the same time.

"Can you hear me now?"


Before I take you on a journey behind the scenes of the telecommunications in post-Taliban era Afghanistan, allow me to introduce you to my new, little friends...


Fleas.


I have fleas.


There, I said it.


Now, don't get me wrong. The Kabul Inn is a great place to stay by Afghan standards. My "visitors" are not the owner's fault, not in the least - they could have jumped my train at any number of a thousand station stops I've made in the past few days. To try to place blame for fleas in Afghanistan is like blaming the puddles for the rain. The owner of the Kabul Inn is a returnee, one of the thousands of Afghans who have come back from Iran and Pakistan, or even the United States, to start businesses and rebuild their hometowns. And his cook makes the meanest chicken fried rice this side of Boston's China Town. To this recently discovered fact I will happily testify.


Over the past decades of war in his homeland, Arshak (I think that's how you spell his name), has lived in both Iran and Gilget, a region of Pakistan. And though his first daughter was born just five days ago, he works from 5am until 9 at night to keep the Kabul Inn running - only to start his nearly hour long bicycle ride home to his family when his work day is done. I would like to think I work hard, but when I travel in the lesser developed world I realize that the majority of the planet speaks a vocabulary of labor where our version of hard work would often qualify to them as a veritable holiday.


Be that as it may, I have fleas.


So far, I only have a couple bites.


But there is swelling, oh there is swelling.


As someone who contracted Red Fever, a.k.a. Rickettsia Typhi, commonly known as Typhus, when I was in Honduras during my freshmen year in college, working at an orphanage, I have met these "friends" before and know them well.


Too well.

THE REST IS HERE

One of my closest and dearest friends is in Afghanistan for a few weeks working on a humanitarian mission with Oxfam. He is easily one of the smartest and funniest people I have ever known. I thought I'd share his emails as I get them:

From: Nathaniel Raymond
Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 09:13:35 -0400


Subject: If New York is the city that never sleeps...


...Kabul is the city that never showers. Greetings from Kalishnikov city, AFG!


I have slept six hours in the past 48, Kenny and I are safe and sound but speaking in tongues and having visitations from dead relatives that only we can see.


There will be an entry in our new blog called "Dispatches" up on the Oxfam America website either tomorrow or by the end of today. Pass the link around to folks you know because I work on commission.


I will send out more "candid" updates if and when I get time. But I feel safe and everything is copacetic for now, though nobody speaks English.


They speak beard.


My camel chalupa is getting cold.


United we drool,

Natty

If you want to see a longer letter from his Amman, Jordan mission go HERE and scroll down to Friday, March 12 (it's hysterical and sad). It's my old website, so have a heart and don't cringe so much, OK?

While a larger missive on my recent weekend in Montreal is forthcoming, I felt that this one conversation stood on its own. My friends Teddy and Adam were at a "massage parlor" around 5a.m. (It was the only place that was open has been the preferred excuse), and while they are sitting in the entry room, this strung-out looking guy starts talking to them. The conversation follows:

GUY: "Oh man... I've been up here at a bachelor party... I haven't slept for over 40 hours.... uhhh.... It's been one long blur of booze and women and coke..."


TEDDY: "Coke?! That's cheating!"

The best part was that Teddy apparently delivered the line with a huff to it implying superiority and impatience. Always be condescending to a guy on coke. Always. More on the results of their adventure (and the rest of us) are in the works.