SHORT EXTRACT
"Afghanistan is one of the most amazing countries on the planet. It is complicated and tribal, but the culture is rich and full of beautiful history. Yes, there are security problems, but Afghanistan's snapshot on the news is not the only Afghanistan. Often what one doesn’t see is the unparalleled kindness, generosity, loyalty, and hospitality of the people in this country. They say that when an Afghan is your friend, you have a friend that will fight for you with their last breath. I can't wait for the day that I can return.”
THE KABUL BEAUTY SCHOOL
THE WOMEN ARRIVE AT THE SALON JUST BEFORE EIGHT IN THE MORNING. IF IT WERE ANY OTHER DAY, I’D STILL BE IN BED, TRYING TO SINK INTO A FEW MORE MINUTES OF SLEEP. I’D PROBABLY STILL BE CURSING THE NEIGHBOR’S ROOSTER FOR WAKING ME UP AGAIN AT DAWN. I MIGHT EVEN STILL BE GROANING ABOUT THE VEGETABLE DEALERS WHO COME DOWN THE STREET AT THREE IN THE MORNING WITH THEIR NOISY, HORSE-DRAWN WAGONS, OR THE NEIGHBORHOOD MULLAH, WHO WARBLES OUT HIS LONG, MOURNFUL CALL TO PRAYER AT FOUR-THIRTY. BUT THIS IS THE DAY OF ROSHANNA’S ENGAGEMENT PARTY, SO I’M DRESSED AND READY FOR WORK. I’VE ALREADY HAD FOUR CIGARETTES AND TWO CUPS OF INSTANT COFFEE, WHICH I HAD TO MAKE BY MYSELF BECAUSE THE COOK HAS NOT YET ARRIVED. THIS IS MORE OF A TRIAL THAN YOU MIGHT THINK, SINCE I’VE BARELY LEARNED HOW TO BOIL WATER IN AFGHANISTAN. WHEN I HAVE TO DO IT MYSELF, I PUT A LIT WOODEN MATCH ON EACH OF THE BURNERS OF THE CRANKY OLD GAS STOVE, TURN ONE OF THE KNOBS, AND BACK OFF TO SEE WHICH OF THE BURNERS EXPLODES INTO FLAME. THEN I SETTLE A POT OF WATER THERE AND PRAY THAT WHATEVER BACTERIA ARE FLOATING IN THE KABUL WATER TODAY ARE KILLED BY THE BOILING.
The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul
The Kabul Coffee House was jammed with regulars-misfits, missionaries and mercenaries, Afghans and foreigners-and Sunny, as usual, was at the counter. She surveyed her domain, pleased with the business, the buzz, the life that pulsated in the room. This was her very own place, here, in the middle of a war zone, in one of the most dangerous locations on earth. After a lifetime of hard luck and bad choices, finally, at the age of thirty-eight, she'd found a home. Sunny was the center of the cafe, and she planned never to leave. Kabul was the perfect place for her. Since nothing here was on solid ground, anything was possible, and anything could happen. Five men had just walked in, dressed in black, Foster Grants hiding their eyes, machine guns slung over their shoulders, sidearms hanging from their waists. She hadn't seen such beautiful men in a long, long time. In another country they'd mean trouble. But here, she knew they were five tall lattes and a plate of biscotti.