Toilet Street

I am here in the lobby of a 4 star hotel in Kabul. It is attached to a mall and everything is impeccable. But as I walk out of the front entry things change. The first indication is the amount of armed guards standing around the perimeter of the hotel. There is a traffic circle to the right with a traffic guide vainly trying to control traffic. There are at least five armed policmen at points in the circle. and as you walk down the street, individual businesses and compounds also have armed guards.



When I say armed I mean with AK47s -not just pistols. Yesterday I had my picture taken with one of them and he cavaliarly swung it around bumping my chest-yikes! Every so often a car will pull up with someone special. Out will jump two security people flak vests and all. You can begin to figure out who they are by their muscularbuilds, steely eyed glares, and khaki trousers and vests. Many are former Marines or Special Forces. It can be hard to go home after getting used to these adrenaline surges.



As I stand on the front steps I see Toilet Street in front of me-so named because if you want to buy atoilet in Kabul this is the street. There are rows and rows of tiny shops filled with plumbing equipment and of course toilets. But that is not all you can buy.



Directly across from me there are several tents-in one they are making sandwiches using the bread which is being baked a little further down. The bread is flat like a pita but shaped in an elongated oval. They hang it from the ceiling and when it is time to make a delivery they spear it in stacks on a long pole. A little while ago there was a line forming for the fresh bread and more will be baked over open coals for the afternoon rush. Speaking of hanging-there are several goat carcasses hanging in the shop next door. In front there is a man with a wheeled cart grilling corn. And incongruous as this may seem the next shops are a Lexus Toyota dealer.


I am somewhat of a prisoner here until my husband returns. Despite constant activity on the streets there are no solitary women walking around. I did not realize quite how independent I have become until my wings have been clipped. But logic reigns so I will stay low and try to observe what I can and save my energy for tomorrrow's tour-the security guy is taking me to the market. You can't keep a woman inside forever!