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.
Howard
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