Getting Somewhere

The way to avoid mistakes is to avoid doing anything. But that ends up being the biggest mistake of all.

Instead of living in fear of making a mistake, live in awe of the magnificent possibilities. Grab the opportunities, run with them, and any mistakes you make along the way will be quickly forgotten in the brilliant light of your achievements.

Don’t specifically seek to make mistakes, or to appear foolish, or to offend innocent people. But don’t cower in fear of those things either.

If you should happen to look silly or to make a few missteps on the way to fulfilling your highest vision, so what?  What’s important is not keeping up appearances, but rather staying focused on bringing real value to life. Do your best to get it right, and don’t be stopped by the fear of getting it wrong. Give your full attention and commitment to the task, and you’ll quickly learn how to consistently move forward. If you should happen to stumble along the way, see it as a confirmation that you’re getting somewhere. Keep going, keep learning, keep experiencing the ups and downs, and you’ll keep adding real value to all of life.

I’ve opened my e-mail this morning and this is the message I found. What a great message it its and it could not have come in a better time.

I have left my country, family and friends two months ago and replaced my home and comfort for metal container, with a bed & A/C that I call “My room” and an office in a camp surrounded by barb wire. My life is now at a war zone in Afghanistan. Dusty streets, convoys of armor vehicles, fully armed soldiers, bunkers and fire jet’s taking off every now and then disappearing in the distance.

I keep waiting for this notion to hit me in the head where I get for some sort of panic attack resulting - me screaming: “What the fuck am I doing here!!??”… But no… I am surprisingly calm and very busy. 

This is puzzling me. Really, it does. I have no life beside: Wake up, get dressed, work, go to lunch (with my new wacky friends), work, have coffee/cigarette break, do the laundry, work some more, then shower and go to bed.

It resembles a lot that movie “Ground Hogg’s day”, you know the one with Billy Murray, where he wakes up every morning and it is the same day every day. The funny part of that movie is that he manages to do everything once he accepts his fate. I guess that is why I am calm, I am accepting my fate.

“Acceptance” – what a powerful word.

I have accepted my way of living and the lifestyle but knowing my personality I am willing to spice things up by making some changes. Yes. I might have left family, friends, parties and alcohol but I cannot, for the life of me give up on my need to express myself.

Oooh-Ohhh….what am I up to now?  - You must be thinking.

Well, after a month of contemplating what to do after I’m done with work, I came up with a brilliant idea… paint.

I had this feeling that just did not want to subside. It was born from the basic need to cut my every day routine, so what better way to do it than to have some distraction while doing something unusually creative. Drawing on paper did not appeal to me right now, so I had to find something else…something that is totally Afghan, current and yet applicable to our immediate environment.  Then one day it hit me…I was looking at it almost every day…

Bunkers!

Oh yes, you have read it correctly. I want to paint the inside of the bunker! It is a square concrete block that can fit up to 20-30 people sitting on both sides. Sometimes they are covered by sand bags for additional protection so the inside would be perfect to do something different.

 Since I would be painting on the companies’ property, I had to ask for the permeation.

…And what do you know, I got one!

I have cornered the Chief of Staff one morning and explained my project and now he wants to be a part of it. (Hehehe) It always fascinates me how people like to follow the wacky ideas.

( Eg. “Gangam Style”, no need to explain any further).

The weal’s are in motion soon as I got the "green light". I will keep it simple due to my very limited selection of paint but if it turns out to be successful, who knows maybe I will get funds to continue with my artcy-fartcy project for the remaining ones. All I need right now is few extra souls who are willing to join me with their contribution, oh and slightly warmer weather.

So yeah, for all of you out there who are wondering how am I doing. I’m doing just fine! I have goals! Small, but fun little adventures that takes me places. Yes, I am getting somewhere, I am doing things. It might be success it might fail but I am happy for trying and doing SOMETHING for a change.

In the end...I am leaving you with this folowing note...

So, what are you going to do today??!

"Area fifty poo"

“Area fifty poo”, “The shit lake”, “Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory”, "Area fifty poo"

…Or “The Poo Pond,” as the servicemen affectionately call the place, is an enormous liquid pit for all the human waste at the airfield. That’s not a small amount: The airfield is a small city, with over 20,000 men and woman at the moment, oh yeah…it is pretty big, although there is nothing, I repeat nothing pretty about it.
Normally back home you don’t think about these things. Like I’ve said “Normally” you have your toilet-sewage that takes care of stuff and you never stop to think where does it go…but…  avoiding the lake-sized pool of human excrement that fills a section of the sprawling American and NATO base known as Kandahar Air Field is something else. Avoid it you cannot.

The first time I’ve passed by it, I almost gaged. I covered my nose and mouth as I was mentally debating should I endure the smell or breathe to my mouth (but hell, I don’t want this shitty air in my mouth!!!Ijuuu!!!). My new friend Jelena, from Macedonia still gags and almost throws up when we pass by it. Pour thing…but it is very entertaining for the rest of us.


This place is so bad it is a source of lot of jokes and funny signs and mascots. The following pictures pretty much explain everything:

> 
Watching these funny captions, I told one of my friends that these are cool and that “ I need to contribute with something” , and he laughed and said: “Oh Maja, don’t worry, you already are “Contributing” !

Hehehehe…

Also, somebody told me that during one attack, a Taliban rocket struck the pond and disappeared inside. It hasn’t been heard from since. So you see it’s not all bad… it serves other “pooposes” too. (…pun intended! hehehe)  

This brings me to another question. Bottled water!

I avoid drinking the tap water here, just because I’m not comfortable in knowing how it is filtered or God knows what chemicals they use to clean it. So, I drink the bottled water. Being curious by nature, I actually read the label and what do you know, it is produced right here in Kandahar Airfield…so…where do they get this water from???

This is the part of the story where I ask myself, do I really want to know? Maybe, this is the part where that saying: “Ignorance is bliss” kind of thing. So, I will investigate this, no more.
So, enjoy your bathrooms you privileged people!

Enjoy the fact is in your apartment/ house and that you don’t have to go out to use it…Enjoy the nice smelling soaps, hair products and those triple layer toilet papers that smell like lavender. Enjoy the fact that you don’t have to share your toilet/shower with another 5 more people… listening to weird people singing in the shower (Oh, wait that would be me).

So yes, just be happy you are living a privileged life.

KakoDjoe-Uka-LaLe (Go pee and off to bed!)

The airplane landed in Kandahar in early morning and I was greeted by clear blue sky and frisky cold weather. Yes, boys and girls, it gets cold in the desert too. Kandahar is located in the south of Islamic Republic of Afghanistan and it is still considered a war zone. 

The Kandahar Airfield Base (KAF) is franking huge! It’s almost like a small town but accept from the buildings you have tents and containers for accommodation and offices. No stores but PXs (that have the essentials you would need, basically everything is made of sugar or has sugar in it. I know, I read the labels).  About 20% of the roads have pavement, the rest is just dusty, rocky trails that look like roads.

After security checkup we were placed in a transitional small camp called “South Park”.  This sector is made for people who will stay before they get transferred to other camps either inside the camp or small ones throughout the region.

South Park is just like the famous cartoon, I just hope they don’t Kill Kenny at some point! (LOL).  All the residents are just like the characters from the cartoon, they event talk funny.

The coolest part of my first day was the fact I got my helmet and body armor (read: bullet proof west). OMG…I can’t wait to take some photos.  J

We are sleeping in large tent that has bunk beds and wardrobe cabinets. The women’s tent can fit up to 30 women at the time. I was told I have to be here until I get my own room in the camp I will be working.  

The weirdest contraption is the tent A/C which is a tube that looks like a huge “caterpillar” stuck on the tents celling. It blows hot or cold air through its holes and it makes a lot of noise. I was super-duper- mega smart to bring those earplugs with me.

Luckily for me, tents and sleeping bags only trigger happy memories. The sad part of my first stay was the fact that I woke up at 3am with a nasty nose bleed. I’m fine, I adjusted in the following couple of days.

The first person that came to meet me was my colleague, Mickey a funny Macedonian guy who is into martial arts (and what I would learn later, high class dress designer. OK, how random is that?!). No, he is not gay because he show me his hot girlfriend on Facebook. He brought me to the office and introduced me to everyone. I must say, I have pretty cool colleagues. Diverse, professional, cordial and good humored.  By the looks of it, I will be very busy here, which, to be honest is as much concerning as it is exciting. It is concerning because the job, as my pervious one is very responsible and has no room for errors. It’s exciting because I have been provided with the opportunity to work in a very different environment in specific area of expertise.

The work is for 12h a day, 7 days a week. So, yes I don’t have weekends but let’s face it, there is not much here to do, especially since General rule No#1 is NO DRUGS & ALCOHOL!  Considering this fact, I look at this experience as a long de-tox camp. I am sure my liver will appreciate it (at least from Alcohol, coz mi no use no drugs!).

So, my day starts with an irritating sound of my alarm clock and me searching for it in a pitch black darkness of our tent. This lasts for about 2-3 minutes because I almost ALWAYS knock it down on the floor. (Yes, I am very popular amongst my tent roommates). 

The bus takes me to my office (since I don’t have my KAF card yet) so Im pretty much escorted everywhere. The bus driver is Bosnian and he almost always plays” ULTRA Turbo Folk” every morning. It is so bad, you don’t know if you want to cry or laugh. This guy knows the nastiest jokes I have ever heard. Example:

-What is a pregnant woman to a pedophile?    Wait for it………………… Kinder-Suprise!

 (note to reader: If you don’t know what “Kindersuprise is, you seriously never had proper childhood”)

Having said that, I’m limited in meeting a lot of people accept from work and South Park. Mickey was cool enough to introduce me to good folks almost from a start.  I’ve met Jelena, the hottest IT specialist I’ve ever met and I know a lot of IT guys…non of them looked good as her! She looks like a model and she kicks ass in computer stuff, another totally random thing you would expect in a place like this. She and her supervisor Chris have adopted me and now we have lunch and occasional cigarette break. Yes, yes…im still smoking, although my goal is to cut back and quit before summer hits, coz no way in hell I will be smoking on 55 Celsius outside!!!

Like I’ve mentioned earlier, this camp is pretty big. I didn’t see “the fence” in first two weeks. All I see is tents, trucks, cement walls, bunkers, solders and 1 Afghani shop assistant. The only nationality’s I’ve met was American, Macedonian, Kenyan, Mexican, Croatian and Bosnian. Every night I go to South Park and have a cigarette before bed I learn a new joke from the Bosnian bus driver and Kenyan from Daniel, who knows the funniest Bosnian sayings I have ever heard. (What else is he going to learn from us?) This is where I learned my first Kenyan saying:    

KakoDjoe-Uka-LaLe, (Idi pishat pa spavat!), Go pee and off to bed! Apparently this is what Kenyans mom say to their children before bed time. This is the same for us in Bosnia, so naturally I had to learn it because I keep hearing it every night.

Speaking of home, on my fourth day here, I found out that my mother had an emergency operation and they have kept this information from me for almost a week. I found it suspicious that I didn’t heard from her in such a long time and then the e-mail hit me like a truck on highway.  It appears that her gallbladder busted due to a lot of stones that had accumulated. My sister came from Belgrade and she was visiting her in recovery room every day. The surgery was successful and she was recovering just fine.  I am very relieved after hearing this, because I was going through a hell being so helpless on another continent and not been able to do anything for her. I am lucky to have great friends that were willing to help and visit her and give me feedback on her status.

This is what sucks about Afghanistan. Being away from your family on crucial times like these. I know they didn’t want to tell me anything because they feared I would be on the next plane back. But all is well when it ends well.  My mom is doing better, and I back home so we can talk on Skype. That’s another thing. I am so happy I live in this era where I can see and talk to my family and friends with just a mouse click away.

I will try to keep you all posted as soon as I have more time. But know this… appreciate the small fortunes you have been given. Don’t bitch about your hard life because let me tell you, there are worst places to be.

Roger and Out

P.S. I can’t wait to leave South Park and get my own room. Last night I found out that Thursdays is “Man-Love-Shower day”! None of the men take shows accept for “some” that shower together.  I didn’t believe it until I saw two coming out with their shower sponges all giggly and happy. (I forgot to ask if it is the same for woman so I didn’t take a shower, just to be on the safe side). When I came back to the tent I found out that one of the girls Victoria Seacret stuff was stolen, so yeah…I need to leave this tent, ASAP!!!

Leaving for Afghanistan, January 2013

Somehow I always known I was going to end up in some mission.  

They flew me to Dubai to get a week of training which allowed me to explore this amassing city in between mandatory roll calls. I’ve met quite a few Bosnians labor workers and other Balkan nationalities that were going to Afghanistan. From the day one getting to know them the only thing they would do is drink coffee, smoke and bitch about everything. "The hotel sucks, the food is crap, the people are weird", and nothing was right, for them. I’ve tried getting them out of the hotel to explore the city, but no one was interested.

I don’t understand, really. The company paid your flight, the full board and you don’t want to see what is out there? Finally I gave up on them and found a, kinder soul, Mexican guy by the name of Jose that actually gets it.

The best part of this trip was the fact that Dzana, a very good friend from Sarajevo that now works for Quatar Air, had 4 days off so she decided to come to Dubai to visit her friend Nivada who is a flight attendant for the Emirates. Guess what, she was in Dubai the same time I was there.  These girls made my trip! It was so cool to see Dzana again you have no idea how awesome it is to see a friendly face in a foreign land. Naturally, we did what all Bosnians do, got some coffee and talked for hours while commenting the local customs and the attire they were wearing.

Dubai is an interesting place. It is flat, sandy and packed with modern phallic looking buildings and it is ran by other non-Arab nationalities.
Arab’s don’t work, they don’t have to because they are privileged that their government pays them as soon as they are born. The only Arab that Iv actually seen working was the one that have stamped my passport.

Jose and me took on a little adventure in looking for a way to go to Jumeirah beach where the famous BurjArab is located. First we got lost but I didn’t panic because along the way I found the stand with soft coconut that I didn’t drink/ate for over 12 years. I was jumping of joy after I had some. Pour Jose was first confused by my reaction, because as he said…they are on every corner where he lives.  Last time I had them was in India and let me tell you, it brought me back by the first taste of it.

The beach was amazing, just like from a post-card photo… White sand, creamy blue water and proud Burj Aarab in the distance.  I am so smart by bringing my bikini with me. Yey, me!  I don’t wait for things to happen, I make them happen!

That night, Dzana picked me up and we went to Nivada’s apartment, owned by the Air Emirates. The place was amazing and excellently decorated by this lovely Bosnian hoast. She won my heart when she popped up that champagne and welcomed us to Dubai. I made dinner, because…who ever knows me, knows that this is my thing and the way to say thank you for the hospitality. Since I was dressed for Afghanistan, Nivada opened her wardrobe closed and gave me a hot black dress followed by high heals and red lipstick. It was ladies night at Makiki night club which meant the cocktails’ were free. I’m glad she dressed me up, ‘coz I could not enter in casual wear.  The place was packed with all nations and let me tell you, Dubai nightlife can pare up with any major city in the west. Sin city. Prostitution is pretty big In Dubai. Some places like this do not allow traditional outfit’s (So nothing long or covered).  

I really enjoyed myself and the music was awesome and free cocktails’ almost vouch for “good time”. We met a lot of various Middle-Eastern guys who went gaga for Nivada but that is what happens to a blond in this part of the world, plus let’s face it, she is super-hot!

Everything closes after 3 am so we shared a cab back home.

The next day was perfect, I finished some classes online before I came here so I had free afternoon to cruise around with Dzana. We went to Dubai mall that has over 2.500 shops. It is located by Burj Khalifa, The highest single standing building in The world and its amazing musical fountain. You easily get overwhelmed by the Mall’s  size and the varieties of things you want to buy. Luckily for me I was on the budget, so I could not go crazy (because everything was 20-70% discount!). We decided to visit the Dubai Mall aquarium and had super fun imitating and making fun of the sea creatures. It was there when I realized how I miss travelling with Dzana. She is so natural and easy going that is a true blessing. I had to go back to the hotel and she had to fly back to Doha. What a treat in seeing her again!

The next day,  Jose and me wen to see the Dubai Fountain show. It is on every night from 18-24h. Every half an hour they play a song and the fountain turns into this beautiful & magical experience of dancing water and light. I was just like a little kid. Fascinated and genuinely happy! If you are ever in Dubai, don’t miss this, it is an unique experience.

The hotel we were staying had a lot of Indians and I was very happy to be there during their harvest festival. They had made a bonfire by the pool. Started dancing and singing and throwing the first harvest offerings into the flames (peanuts, pop-corn ect). Ofcourse, Iv joined them. I circled the fire 3 times and thank the God for the first harvest and my new job. They welcomed me with the smile and let me dance with them for a while. I miss India. I miss my Indian friends and especially Ninu and her family and I truly hope I will have a chance to visit them soon enough.  

After the morning roll call, almost all the Bosnian guys cornered me to ask what was I doing dancing with the Indians by the fire. They saw me from their balcony and they were all curious in what possessed me to do this?!  (Hehehe…Mahalci*)

Our hotel has about 6-7 night clubs and after 21h it is mayhem.  I sat down one night, watching the girls in high heels and short’n’tight lacey dresses walk by. The face foundation could be as cement and dark and trashy makeup can be compared to transvestites. No, drag queens can give these ladies some make up tips…this was just nasty. But I guess all cats are the same in the dark, so who am I to judge.

Curious by nature, of course I went to check these night clubs. The first one was quite good, the live Pilipino band kicked ass. These petit girls really could sing some though songs, so I was very impressed. It was this or the fact I could drink beer here.  The second one was “authentic Indian night club”. It was dark and fairly empty because it was early in the evening. On the stage there were about 20-30 girls all dressed up in traditional dancing dresses with thick long hair and lots of fake and flashy jewelry. They would start dancing when they call out their name and surprisingly enough there was nothing erotic about it but rather sensual. They would dance songs from some popular Indian soundtracks and once they are finished the guys in front would give them “the crown/tiara” . Puzzled by this custom, Iv asked the waiter what’s up with this “crown” and he said, if you pay 100$ you can chose which girl was the best and if you like her performance she can join your table. I really don’t know what happens later on and what kind of “royal treatment” she gets later all I know is that I am sad about them. They are very young and beautiful girls. It is a shame they don’t have the ability to do something else than this.

I had enough. I went to my room and thanked God for my blessings in life.

Since I got my papers, medical check and green light for Afghanistan, I have decided to treat myself and for my new job to purchase the super extra hot red heals that I simply had to have. What would I do with them in Afghanistan… probably nothing, but I know for sure I will be enjoying them on my R&R (Rest & Relaxation) time! By the end of the next week my name was on the manifest and it was time to go. I had mixed feelings…leaving this paradise and going to a war zone, you have to be crazy not to have feelings of fright. In my case they were spiced up with the feelings of excitement and adventure. I know…im crazy.

Iv packed my things, locked my suitcase and I was ready to go.

Somehow I always known I was going to end up in some mission and here I was…on the plain to Afghani land.

Cracked Piggy Bank

It’s been an interesting period.

It appears I have striped down to minimal just to exist. No, I'm not walking around in my bikini trying to sell my body although I do understand where the profession came from.

Survival.

Its been over a year and I still am unemployed. I am having difficulty writhing this post. Mainly, because a part of me, the proud, independent part is struggling with conception that I am in the ranks of "pour". On the other hand, I am fortunate in the sense I have my mother but her pension is only 200 Euros. Yes. Two people surviving on that money for one month.

Yesterday, I hit a low point. I just got a word that I did not get the job that was suppose to help not only me but my mother and sister who is a single mother. Yes, it appears they gave this job to somebody who is all ready working for them. Like iv said...low point. I hit the rock bottom when I cracked my Piggy Bank with a hammer. As the ceramics broke, something broke inside of me.

So, what did I do?! I took some money and went out for a pint of beer. As any normally pour person would. Duhhh...

But, I actually went to sign up for volunteer action that is currently happening in my country. The global volunteer garbage clean-up. I figured, since I’m not doing anything, I might help clean up some shit. I love nature, so I think this is a good chance to do something positive. I talked to the management and offered my professional skills and experience in event management and told them to let me know when the next meeting is, because I would love to help out in other ways too.

Beside that, I sure did like that pint of beer. 

Shadow, shadow on the wall…

As I was reading my last post I realized my fears are not as visible and concrete as I thought they would be. No, they come to me in a form of shadows. The shadows that are a part of you and come out the strongest when I turn off the light and try to sleep.

Yes. I am a little bit afraid of the dark, but who isn't. As a child I was abused by my babysitter, an elderly lady who apparently kept me in the bathroom while my parents were at work. It was after few months when I got a horrible blood infection and my parents were investigated. You see, my infection was suspicious because the only way you get it is by toilet water or very bad sanitary conditions that we did not have. My mom explained to me that I almost died because I had to go under adult antibiotics that could ruin my kidneys and cause system falour due to high fever. This woman had kept me in a toilet with no water and what my mother suspects is that I had to find ways to hydrate myself while being there. I don’t remember this period in my life, but my mother said that I the nightmares haunted me years after.

When I think about it now I realize I am now older and more secure. I am not that afraid of the dark but lately the shadows are coming in a different shapes and sizes. My fear of not been able to support my self and my family, being unemployed for a year now. Then there is the  fear of not finding somebody to love and to love back. And now, coming to me as strong and scariest of them all is finding out tonight that my mother should undertake at least two major back surgeries.

Having to lose my father two years ago, this revelation has buried me deep into a well with no visible way out. In order to keep a sane mind I need to face this with my bravest face, but all I feel is cold water around me and the depth of my despair.

I have caught my self thinking how much I miss my ex. I wish I had his arms around me and just hearing him saying, it is going to be all right. As I lay down in this room of shadows, crying under illumination of this laptop I wonder, can I do this by myself? I even resisted calling him and hearing his voice but I know deep down that it would just be a quick fix that would in the end serve no real purpose. He is part of my past and by his choice prefers to stay there, because if he didn’t, he would have picked up the phone during the past 8 moths to here my voice. So, no. No, calling people who don’t want me in their hart. I said hart for a reason because we keep people in our life but only a few of them reside in our harts. He is still in mine, which saddens me even more.
 
Funny thing about fears. They are such inhibitors. I felt once so afraid that I stood still, unable to move and barely breathe normally. This is what they are capable of doing. I am paralyzed, or am I?

Shadow, shadow on the wall…which one of you is the scariest of them all?

Where the hell is my “Mojo”???

In the middle of a storm, a pilgrim reaches an inn and the owner asks where he is going.

“I’m going to the mountains,” he answers.

“Forget it,” says the innkeeper, “it’s a risky climb, and the weather is awful.”

“But I’m going up,” answers the pilgrim. ”It is my dream”.

“If my heart got there first, it will be easy to follow it with my body.”

I am climbing my friends. I have been doing so for years and my bones hurt, but that is a pain I cant endure, it’s my hart that I am worrying about. My hart is skipping and the road ahead of me is getting to be hazier as I continue by myself. To be frank, I am single for eight months and I hate the fact I lost my “Mojo” along the way.

Mojo

The word originally means a charm or a spell. But now its more commonly said meaning sex appeal or talent.

N.
1. Self-confidence, Self-assuredness. As in basis for belief in ones self in a situation. Esp. I context of contest or display of skill such as sexual advances or going into battle.
2. Good luck fetish / charm to bolster confidence.
3. ability to bounce back from a debilitating trauma and negative attitude

Damn it, I want it back! I feel like an idiot in the group of people. I just stand there, nodding as if I am part of the conversation and even if I do say something, timing is off or the conversation has all ready moved into another direction.

If I like somebody, It takes me forever to say something. Forming a sentence reminds me of plucking words with pliers from my mouth. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…this is so not me… this is killing me. The worst part is that I can see my self and I know if I don’t change something soon, soon enough I will not be invited to these little “get-togethers”. Why would I? I’m sad to watch.

The thing about me is that I am the positive one that always keeps the party up and running. Being around new people brings me contort because I love expanding my social network. Speaking publicly has never been a problem, why would it? I am karaoke queen who gets the party started. 

So, where the hell is my “Mojo”???

But please don’t get me wrong, my “Mojo” is not just the spark that attracts the opposite sex, but the spark that shows my creative, larger than life attitude towards all my dreams and goals. This means that I haven’t painted nor did anything creative during all this time.

This is why I decided to make some changes in my life, so I am going to do one thing that scares me every day, or at least try and write about it. Hehehe…If this doesn't spark the old engine, I don't know what else will, but heck...at least it should be interesting.