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Embarrassment in Afghanistan

After two and half years in India as a Peace Corps volunteer, I hitchhiked through West Pakistan and bussed to Kabul where my father had installed a science library 10 years before. After the great welcomes his co-workers gave me a bus ticket to Kandahar. Full of the rich foods of Kabul hospitality, I boarded the bus with 45 or so swarthy, stout, be-weaponed strangers, most of whom seemed suspicious of the beardless American.

The bus must have been an express. It did not make the expected local stops. My digestive system needed a disposal stop. When the GI tract became truly insistent I pantomimed the driver to stop. He did. I started to go behind the bus. My fellow travelers disembarked to watch. The desert promised solitude. Hoping that the driver would wait, I walked a soccer field length away from the audience who may have been less sanguine about the driver's patience. They did not follow.



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