The Foreign Service Journal, September 2014

48 SEPTEMBER 2014 | THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL it suggested to me that every man who was hard pushed might get such a one for a dollar and, having bored a few auger holes in it to admit the air at least, get into it when it rained and at night, and hook down the lid, and so have freedom in his love, and in his soul be free.” For many, how- ever, the charm of minimalist living wears off quickly. There are actually two compounds that make up the embassy grounds, divided into east and west and connected by a 30-yard-long underground tunnel. Conditions on the eastside compound can be Spartan; that is where most of the “hooch” dwellers live (although the west side does have some), and where most of the recent power failures and water shut-offs have been occurring. Most hooch dwellers place their names on the shared- apartment waitlist immediately on arrival, and closely scruti- nize their movement upward weekly—some daily, to the woe of the poor general services officer assigned to manage the list. Some adherents of Thoreau’s philosophy elect to remain in their hooches. Or it could be because they dread the prospect of sharing a bathroom or living in an “Odd Couple” situation. Currently, the entire compound is a construction zone, with a major billion-dollar project underway to build additional office space and living quarters. As you can imagine, this results in significant noise and dust, and not only in the Great Outdoors. There have been more than a few evenings here when we have had to close the front office due to the noise of hammering and drilling. Our “commutes” to work can change at a moment’s notice as walkways are blocked off and rerouted. The gentleman in the construction hat in the post’s orienta- tion video is likely correct when he states that this place will be “something to see” when the construction is finished. But he is equally correct in his warning of how difficult it is to live here while the work is going on. Dealing with Stress Afghanistan’s climate and topography present additional challenges. Kabul is located at 5,869 feet above sea level, and its thin, dry air poses dehydration dangers for those who are not careful. During the cold winters, Afghans burn anything and everything to stay warm, generating acrid smoke which, trapped by an inversion, results in a heavy, dense smog that permeates everything, including clothes, hair and, of course, lungs. Many people here suf- fer not just from soiled suits, but also respiratory problems. I quickly learned to overcome feeling self- conscious about wearing a surgical mask on the smoggiest days. Summers bring warmer temperatures, but also more winds and dust. Stress is a factor here, exacerbated by the long working hours, the ever-present security threat and separation from families. We work six days a week, and the days are long. Many of us are sleep-deprived at one point or another. People deal with pressures and the monotony of compound life in different ways. The saying is that during your time here you either become a drunk, a monk, a hunk or a skunk. (The latter two refer to those who are promiscuous and those who let their hygiene go.) The smart people practice a healthy mixture of the first three and avoid the fourth. Post has a strict, zero-tolerance alcohol abuse policy, but the libations do flow freely here at many community events. Everyone looks forward to rest and recuperation breaks, and these are often a topic of conversation among colleagues. The typical native greeting on the compound is not the Dari “Salaam alaikum,” but rather “When is your next trip?” or, for variety, “Did you just get back?” The trips out are crucial to morale. One of my colleagues compares service here with working on an oil rig: a couple of months on duty, followed by a blissful two-week rest to restore the soul. Most of us are also keenly aware of our end-of-tour date. Some know how long they have been here to the day, hour, minute and second, assisted by a creative “Circle of Free- dom” Excel sheet that counts down the time, calculates your “sentence served,” and helpfully displays a pie chart that, as the sentence served ticks away, gradually replaces a menacing Taliban fighter touting an RPG with a tropical beach scene. Most of us are separated from our families, which of course creates its own stresses. Visits home or a rendezvous in Europe on R&R are precious gifts, but there is then the inevitable return to post. Twenty-first-century technology makes the sep- aration somewhat bearable; in fact, to be honest, I have had some great in-depth one-on-one conversations with my wife this past year via FaceTime as the normal daily distractions of life—the TV, dinner preparation—are put aside. Absence truly As cramped as our living conditions are, they can be oddly comforting for some. Minimalist living has its advantages.