Recycled Houses Make Great Furniture!

Sunday’s are our one day off, so they are generally good days.  A short while back I spent all day with a friend who has made himself something of an expert on tribal rugs.  We went to the outskirts of the city to look at furniture workshops.  Here, when a house is torn down, they don’t just crush everything and toss it in a dumpster.  They dismantle all the carved wooden doors and window pieces and save what can be reused.  These are then turned into furniture: cabinets, shelving, tables. All very cool stuff.  So we went to the outskirts of Islamabad to where they take these pieces and reuse them.  Some of the items in these workshops are antiques in their own right and will be sold as is.  Old children’s beds, spinning wheels, chests.  The most amazing pieces are the very large door frames.  These can easily be 13 ft high and 10 ft wide and intricately carved.  I’d love to pick one of these up but shipping it to the states would be something of a challenge.  I like that these everyday, very artistic pieces are being reused.  In America we tend to tear down buildings and scrap it all.  I remember when they did that to the Beacon Street Hotel in my hometown, marble and hardwood floors were just destroyed in the interest of tearing the building down quickly, so that the lot could remain vacant for 30+ years.  Some of the workshops we saw had pieces obviously not old, but made to look older by weathering them.  The rest of that day was spent in various carpet shops.  There is one piece that I really like.  It is not cheap though.  It’s a 3’ by 10’ runner they are asking $1800 for.  It’s Turkmen, quite old, very nice.  I’ll probably get it.  Damn.  Addiction is such an ugly word… I prefer fondness.  I am fond of rugs.  One of my room mates commented today on my traveling out to the fringes of the city to look at old shit.  He mentioned that I seem to still have the very young sense of curiosity/adventure.  Yup.  I hope I never out grow that.  When I stop being curious, it’s time to lie down and die.

And with that in mind the Turkmen we went to look at furniture workshops with that day sees no reason I shouldn’t travel anywhere I like.  He said even Afghanistan was much safer now than it was last time I was there in 2009.  He thinks I should definitely see the northern areas of Pakistan as well as Lahore.  It’s interesting to me that most of the carpet and furniture vendors here are Turkmen and not Pashtun or Punjabi.  They all think I should visit Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan.  I think I need to visit all of them in the not too distant future.  Turkmen are pretty easy to spot here.  They typically have light skin, almond eyes and often grey eye color.  The ones born up north are also generally well educated.  I find I like them though they can be opinionated and a bit bigoted toward Pashtuns and Punjabis.  Funny, I find myself drawn to a part of the world that was never taught to us in schools.  These are the lands that were big blank spots in the history books we read in high school.  We were taught that Marco Polo left Venice, traveled through Anatolia and was then transported miraculously to the court of the Kublai Khan.  The majority of his journey is completely ignored even though he was traveling through cities vastly older than Venice. 

 

So anyway, I think I’ll be purchasing some furniture while I am here.  I don’t yet know how I’ll ship it but having furniture made from much older furnishings has a draw I can’t ignore.    

Flat Tires and Kind Strangers

17 Nov 2013      

During Ashura we were restricted to our houses and the Embassy.  This was after violence had erupted in Rawalpindi the twin city to Islamabad.  After being cooped up for a time I made it out the door at 06:30 on the bike.  I rode in to work to check e-mail… that only took a half hour or so.  Then I rode across town to F9 park.  It is a huge park, it takes up an entire sector here in the city.  Since we are not allowed to ride in the Margalla hills at the moment this is my substitute.  Lame but it’s about all I have.  So I was having a nice ride.  I was in the heart of the park on a dirt path riding downhill on a rocky and heavily rutted section when I had a blow out.  OK, no big deal, but it is a pain in the ass.  I had a spare tube, but no patch kit.  I changed the tube and wouldn’t you know it, within a half mile I had another flat.  Damn!  Oh, it’s important to know that we are only supposed to go into F9 park if we call into the operations center at work first.  I had attempted to but cell phone service was out all over town.  So I figured oh well, I’ll just walk back to the limits of where I am supposed to be, 9^th Avenue, and then use my radio to call for motor pool to come pick me up.  We are not allowed to use public transport here, but the embassy’s motor pool works pretty well.  So along I am walking when a local Punjabi rides up on his bike.  I explain in English what has happened, he tells me in Punjabi where I can get my flat repaired.  Now mind you I don’t speak Punjabi… and he doesn’t speak English.  This gentleman stayed with me and took me by 4 places that were all closed before finding one that was open.  Not that a shop was open.  It was just a guy on the side of the road who has a shop elsewhere but was fixing bike tires on this particular dirt corner.  So the guy repairs my tire for 30 rupees (30 cents).  I gave him 100.  Still my Punjabi friend waited.  Once all was well we rode toward my residence.  My friend split off at the adjacent city sector.  We had covered about 3 miles on foot (me) and bike (him).  All I could think through all of this was WOW.  Here is some local guy, in the country’s capitol, who took it upon himself to be my guardian.  He was such a wonderfully nice guy.   In the US I can’t imagine a “Christian” doing this for a foreigner.  Here I am in a land that most American’s think is populated with Islamic extremists and some random Muslim takes care of me.  I was very happy.  I like these people.  I am likely to become very angry the next time I hear someone tell me how violent a religion Islam is. 

 

BTW, my friend kept telling me how bike riding was such great exercise (in Punjabi).  I agreed (in English).  At one point as we moved through a neighborhood, looking for a repair shop, two men better off than my friend, Pashtuns I think, asked what was wrong.  I pointed to my very flat rear tire and told them it had blown out twice today.  They said something and I smiled back as we moved along.  Then it came to me.  In his heavy accent the gentleman had said: Ah, you have put on weight lately.  Too funny!  When my tube was being patched the mechanic asked my age (he spoke a wee little bit of English).  I told him 52 and both he and my friend were impressed.  I think I just reinforced their view of cycling being great exercise. 

 

If I am going to continue riding I need to order some decent tubes.  These Chinese once are crap.  That said I am very happy I had 2 blowouts today.  I would not have had such a wonderful experience.

Drone Strikes and Bike Rides

The government of Pakistan was set to begin an official dialog with the Taliban.  This would not be the first time this has been attempted.  Several times in the past the Taliban have agreed to a cease fire only to use the time to regroup and rearm before breaking the peace.  The big difference is that this time, 18 hours before the first official contact was scheduled to take place, a US Drone strike killed the head of the Pakistani Taliban along with his 2^nd in command.  Now I am not personally a fan of drone strikes.  I feel we have used them without sufficient controls in the past.  This time though we seem to have used them correctly.  This guy was a complete turd.  He was a vicious prick and had done innumerable harm to the Pakistani people.  Now there have been many drone strikes since I arrived in Islamabad 7 months ago, so why choose to bring this one up?  Because Meshud was the target, there is the likelihood his minions will attempt to strike a retaliatory blow.  Or to put it another way, because the US killed their leader, the TTP may decide to try and kill some Americans.  So, this weekend has been a slow one.  We have been restricted to our walled and guarded houses today.  No travel unless absolutely necessary and then only in armored vehicles.  This is my life in Islamabad. 

 

We found out about the strike Saturday morning.  We were told to be back at our houses by sunset and not to leave.  I was planning to go for a bike ride today (Sunday) so I decided to ride my bike home.  It isn’t very far, only a few miles.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to ride today but at least I’d have a nice ride home.  I love riding bikes here in Pakistan.  It is safer to ride here then the states.  As crazy as it is to drive here, they do pay more attention to pedestrians, bikes, cows, goats, monkeys… well, you get the picture.  In Malibu cars run into parked cars on the PCH.  I’ve never seen that here.  The other thing I love about riding a bike here is the reaction I get from the Pakistanis.  If I so much as say hello and smile they give me the most amazing smiles in return.  They are such a gracious people.  They make me feel so welcome here.  I suppose that seems odd to many Americans.  Most people I know back in the US think I live in a bed of terrorists.  The reality is quite different.  I won’t lie, things do happen here, occasionally very bad things.  A few months ago Taliban suicide bombers murdered 80+ Christians as they left mass in Peshawar.  One of our house staff lost 8 member of her immediate family in that terrorist attack.  You would think she’d be bitter in this Muslim land.  She went on to tell how the Islamic community of Peshawar did their best to protect the Christians following this attack.  They provided security, they provided food and shelter, they were aghast that such a cowardly act had taken place in their city.  Pakistan is a complicated place with complex problems that defy sound bite answers. 

 

 

So, for those of you that still worry about my safety, please don’t.  I am in a place where people have a very difficult life, and despite that, do not hate strangers, or one another.  It is the poverty here in Pakistan that is the enemy.  It is the lack of education.  It is the corruption.  The people of Pakistan are not the enemy.  So, a small request: next time you hear someone going on about “all those damn terrorists in Pakistan” set them straight.  People are not that different anywhere in the world.  There is no country anywhere on the planet made up primarily of terrorists.  So if someone is trying to convince you otherwise they are either ignorant or have their own hateful agenda.  I don’t know what the future brings for Pakistan but I do know I will have lifelong friends here.   

Rest and Relaxation??

My R&R is about shot.  One day left and another run to the storage place in Carson.  It’s been two weeks of sorting and packing.  Some items bound for eventual life on the big island of Hawaii, some items for life in SoCal until I can fund life on the island.  It’s been a strange experience.  I seemingly dropped out of the sky onto the Bu.  Coming from six months in Pakistan I may as well be on Mars.  Life here is that different.  American’s view of Pakistan is rather skewed.  Many of my friends don’t know there is any difference between Afghanistan and Pakistan.  Most of the remainder thinks Pakistan is a bed of bloodthirsty terrorists with nukes.  This is what happens when news becomes a profit center rather than a public service.  No more “foreign desks” at news outlets.  If it isn’t sensational it won’t sell ad space.  It’s sad really.

 

So here I am.  In three weeks my wife moves to Hawaii.  In six months I return to SoCal effectively homeless.  I have to work at my normal employer to pay off the home on the island.  It’s a weird feeling.  I know it likely confuses most of the people we know.  But that is what happens when you are a military family.  You become pragmatic.  She has a job in Hawaii.  We have a farm there that needs attention.  It simply makes since for her to make the move now.

 

So I come back to the thought that began this dialog.  I live in a beautiful community.  It’s in the mountains next to the ocean.  It’s affluent.  We have an amazing view of the Palos Verdes Peninsula and Catalina Island.  It’s a reasonable commute to my civilian gig and quite peaceful.  So am I going to miss this life?  That is a difficult question to answer.  I have a hard time imagining life back in the city, but I as I drive about Malibu I feel it is time to move on.  I will miss my neighbors.  We have an amazing community here.  It’s the first time I’ve been such an embedded part of the community.  I am well known and well thought of here.  But… it feels uncomfortably familiar.  I am antsy.  Beautiful as it may be its beginning to look quite mundane.  Yes, time to move on.  I think my main issue is a bad case of wanderlust.

 

I feel a bit self conscious telling people I am quite happy in Islamabad.  How that hell does that even work?  Forsaking the gilded coast of Malibu for a somewhat dangerous 3^rd world country?  I wish I could provide you all an answer you would understand.  Alas, I can’t.  I am a sailor.  I am happiest when moving on every 2 or 3 years.  For my neighbors in Corral Canyon: I will always cherish the community we created after that terrible blaze.  It has been an honor of the highest order to be part of that process.  My family by this point knows that I am a hopeless wanderer.  My wife puts up with my frequent absences knowing it will pay off in the long run.  My children just know this to be what I do, for better or worse.  My mom and sister have watched this play out over a lifetime.  My friends… I am not sure what to say to my friends.  I am incredibly lucky to have wonderful friends all over this planet.  I am deeply touched by the number of friends that have offered up spare rooms for when I return.  I love you all.  Thank you for remaining in touch.  Thank you for putting up with my occasionally extreme politics.  Thank you for making my life richer. 

Cycling in Islamabad

I just got back from a short 15 mile bike ride.  I’m not allowed to ride up in the Margalla hills right now due to security threats.  So I rode along Margalla road down to F-9 Park.  It’s a huge park here in Islamabad.  It was a very busy day for all parks today.  It’s the end of the Eid Al Fitr weekend and this coming Wednesday is Pakistan’s Independence Day.  So traffic was epic.  I haven’t ridden in traffic this busy since Thailand or perhaps Indonesia.  I forgot how much I love riding my bike in traffic.  I suppose it’s from growing up riding a bike on the streets of LA.  I ride better in traffic than I do on mountain trails, and I’m no slouch on dirt trails.  Funny, most of the American’s I work with hate Pakistani drivers.  They complain about the way they drift about on the roadway and don’t seem to pay any attention to what might be behind them.  All those complaints and yet I feel safer riding along in heavy traffic in Islamabad than I ever have on the Pacific Coast Highway.  Yes Pakistanis drive much slower, but more to the point, they do pay attention to whatever is in front of them.  They look for obstacles, like pedestrians, goats, cows and bicyclists.  So it was a fun ride, and a relatively safe ride.

 

So many people were worried for me when they found out I was headed to Pakistan.  Americans seem to think I live in a land full of terrorists and Islamic fanatics.  OK to be fair, there are some terrorists and Islamic fanatics here.  Just as there are some terrorists and Christian fanatics in the USA.  Many of the people I ride by look at me with some suspicion.  No doubt I look very strange to most Pakistanis, wearing shorts and a brightly painted bike helmet, gloves and eye protection.  I ride an odd looking bike and go nearly as fast as most of the cars here.  So I can understand some suspicion.  What I didn’t expect is the number of people who wave.  Who say hello.  The parents who have their children shake my hand.  This city has a great many very friendly people.  In America we rarely treat visitors this well, especially those that don’t speak the same language.  I am enjoying my time here, half a world away from family and friends.  I’ll be back soon enough.  Not much will have changed where I work, in my home town, with my friends, but I will feel as if I’ve been gone for a decade.                    

Shia Mosque Bombing Thwarted

Life continues to be curious.  Yesterday I left work around 4:00.  Our new roommate rode with me.  He is still getting his bearings so I asked if he knew about the 4^th entrance to the diplomatic enclave.  He didn’t so I decided to show him.  It’s a bit of a drive as the main entrances face the city while this one faces the small village of Nurpur Shahan, North East of the enclave.  It’s a nice drive through an area vastly different from the rest of this city.  You go through the local bazaar area before turning south on 3^rd Ave toward Murree road.  It was a nice drive, saw donkey carts, many people, cows, goats and horses wandering about.  The rest of my evening was completely uneventful. 

 

 

Then a short while ago, just before 8 AM my phone rang.  It was a guy that works for me.  He was calling me to let me know his flight was diverted.  They should have landed at Islamabad but were diverted to Lahore.  Not only that but they were forced to deplane.  The claimed reason was weather but, while it’s raining right now, it isn’t particularly bad weather.  So I decided to go online and check the news.  Apparently there was a threat and search at Benazir Bhutto airport over 22 hours ago that the authorities are now saying was “training”… doubtful.  The more interesting article was about a thwarted mosque bombing yesterday afternoon.  A heroic security guard got in a shootout with a very well trained suicide bomber at a Shia mosque.  He managed to kill the would-be bomber but was also wounded and died later at the hospital.  This was in the little village of Bara Kahu about 2 miles east of the village we drove through yesterday afternoon.  I’d be lying if I said this was not a bit sobering.  It pissed me off as well.  This sectarian crap is as evil as it gets.  Killing one another because “MY god and kick YOUR god’s ass” or perhaps it’s more along the lines of “YOU are worthy of death because you don’t pray EXACTLY the same way I do”.  No matter, the perpetrators of this crap, the leaders of this evil will burn in hell, or be reincarnated as lowly insects or in some way, no matter your belief, will be punished for their deeds.  I genuinely like Pakistan.  I am greatly disappointed that my ability to travel about and see more of it is being hampered by an evil that plagues the good people of this land.       

AFP Photo, dead bomber next to grenades, bullets, etc.

Scope of my Job

4 July 2013

For those of you that might wonder exactly what I do over here, perhaps I should provide something of a snap shot.  I begin writing this post on a 747 flying back to Islamabad from Karachi.  I was there to attend a two day carrier meeting.  It was primarily to discuss the access issues for freight traveling between the ports down at Karachi, and Afghanistan.  While that is not in my swim, lane several of the carriers I work with, bringing freight into Pakistan, were there and I needed to meet them.  The consulate in Karachi is a bit like a voluntary jail.  The buildings are new and quite nice, lots of shiny marble, new furnishings, strangely wavy glass windows (ballistic), etc. but most of the grounds are covered in gravel.  Lately though they have replaced some of these with lawn, not out of a concern for aesthetics but to reduce shrapnel if some dumb ass decides to drop a few mortar rounds on the compound.  That doesn’t seem to be likely right now… but then again.  To enter or exit requires ID checks and several imposing gated zones.  Access to the actual city is limited to a narrow corridor between Jena International and the Consulate.  Should one wish to see any of this narrow slice of city it is necessary to arrange an up-armored vehicle from motor pool, with a driver and bodyguard.  We went out to dinner last night using this arrangement.  The food was fantastic.  The traffic a mess, the city itself is dirty and unkempt.  Karachi is home to a tad over 22,000,000 people.  Large sections of the city have been completely abandoned by the police to the criminal gangs, which helps explain the murder rate of 8/day.  Not the safest place and nowhere I will likely return as a tourist.    

Well, that got away from me a bit; I was going to explain my duties.  I was sent here to be the head logistician for the Office of the Defense Representative Pakistan (ODRP), Security Assistance Office (SAO). We have security assistance programs in many countries.  They facilitate the sale of US produced defense supplies to these countries.  This accomplishes several goals.  It keeps US defense manufacturing lines open without DOD spending funds on excess equipment.  More importantly it makes for closer ties and some degree of influence with the military in these countries.  We help Pakistan acquire military equipment and they assist with policing the Indian Ocean, fighting insurgents in the tribal lands and working to secure their nebulous borders.  If you recall the military response to the invasion of the Swat Valley by the Taliban a few years ago, this was possible because of the support we provide.  OK, OK I know, that explains why I am here in a very big picture sort of way, but still not what I do.

As the Chief of Logistics my primary duty is to coordinate the movement of military supplies from the US to Pakistan.  We have a consolidation site in the US that became more of a warehouse when relations soured after the Salala incident.  I have an NCO there to process receipts and pull freight for shipments.  I also have a LtCol and SSgt to assist with the process on this end.  We set the shipment schedule, the mode, and the specific items to be shipped.  Since I have arrived we made 2 shipments by chartered 747.  I hate those.  They waste funds that would be better spent purchasing more military hardware for the PAK Mil.  We also recently received our first ocean shipment in over two years, 26 forty foot containers (FEU’s).  There are some significant challenges with this process.  The Government of Pakistan requires a Non-Objection Certificate (NOC) for imported duty free freight.  It is quite the cumbersome, bureaucratic process to get these approved, even for items going to the PAK Mil!  Pakistan has hundreds of years of bureaucratic training from British Colonial rule.  If you have ever watched the movie “Brazil” it will provide insight into the Pakistani bureaucracy.  If that were my only challenge it would be sufficient but the method of prioritizing the freight we call forward was not well thought either.  It was prioritized based on the preferences of the US Army, Navy and Air Force reps working with their PAK Mil counterparts.  This allowed some freight to languish at the consolidation site to the point where shelf life is now an issue.  I am in the process of reordering all the freight in FIFO order with exceptions made for shelf life and justifiable reasons, like items needed for contracted training programs.  We also have a contracted warehouse in Pakistan that is used primarily as a cross dock.  Once shipments arrive this is where they are broken down for onward movement to specific units.  My SSgt spends a significant amount of time there.  Now you would think that since that is logistics bit is a pretty complex tasking it would account for all my time.  But wait, that ain’t all…

As the head loggie, I also own housing and vehicles.  Most of us at ODRP are on temporary orders so we share group houses out in town.  These are arranged through the Embassy.  I have the honor of housing assignments, coordinating maintenance issues and ownership of the furnishings, or rather my MSG does.  She also manages our leased vehicle fleet.  We share cars and rotate them regularly to limit our visibility.  It shouldn’t surprise me but a significant portion of my time goes to the houses and vehicles.  The last area under my dept is End Use Monitoring.  I have a Navy Chief over that.  When we provide military items to a country it is not without strings.  We monitor items to ensure they are stored securely enough and that 3^rd party nationals don’t have unapproved access to them.

As part of the straight logistics portion of my responsibilities I also make short side trips when we deliver cargo.  I sign for the US Govt., meet the military officers in charge of the unit taking custody, have tea and biscuits (the English meaning there), and then head home.  As with more management positions most of my time is dedicated to providing information.  That has been something of a challenge.  With personnel rotating every year, continuity is tenuous at best.  Add to that a lack of skills in Excel and Access for most active duty military and it was quickly apparent I need to rebuild all our databases to make data mining more effective and efficient.  It’s going to be a busy year for me.  Busy but fun.  There is plenty to do and my actions have a dramatic, immediate and visible impact.  It will be interesting to look back next year to see if I have been successful, or have fallen victim to “Brazil”.     

Houses: over a dozen

Vehicles: several dozen

Cost of a 747 charter: about a half mil

Value of goods on a 747 charter: $40M to $70M

Goods in storage: over $300M

Personnel managing the process: 6