Back in Kabul

Last Friday we drove to Paghman with our friend Jean. Driver Karim, the father of five, takes his oldest shy daughter with us as well. We have a wonderful walk up to Paghman River, enjoying warm sunshine and murmur of the stream. I wonder that there are almost no people in the popular picnic place; the season seems to be over. Just some jaded kebab-offers have a tedious time while some families eat their kebab, mast and chai under the trees covered with golden leaves.
We have had a long holiday – one and half month – in our home back in Estonia. I am always amazed about the metamorphosis inside myself, moving from my homeland in Northern Europe to Afghanistan. And opposite. For example, it takes some days to become used to the fact that we can buy frozen foodstuff like ice cream – because there is all-time electricity. Back in our lovely Kabul home, after one day I have already the feeling as if I lived here forever.
After one-month routine in Estonia, Kabul seems dangerous and unattractive. Especially thanks to media – there is a lot of coverage as there are more than one hundred Estonian troops in Helmand. After a while I stop reading the articles about Afghanistan written by Estonian journalists, spending one-week war-tourism-trips in south. Last one I tried to read began with sentence: ´”There is no doubt that military helicopter is the most preferred transportation in Afghanistan.” Really?!
I am the only Estonian journalist living in Afghanistan. I am not very beloved by my homeland defence forces because I have not praised the foreign forces. They dislike me so much that I was not allowed to listen to NATO conference about Afghanistan in my hometown. There is not enough room, was their answer.
Conversations in Estonia about our living here are almost always the same: how can you live in that horrible country? My replay is: it is beautiful country. I spend so much energy explaining the simplest facts. There are big differences between south and north. There is a different climate. There are different landscapes. There are different tribes and traditions. And definitely all Afghans are not interested to kidnap or kill me...
To explain my point of view I started to organize photo exhibitions in biggest cities of Estonia. The official to whome I showed my photos, seemed really confused. It can’t be Afghanistan, she just murmured. Also I decided to publish a book (in Estonian) with my own photos. In order to counterbalance fear and hatred, that is generally connected to Afghanistan-topic, the title will be Beloved Afghanistan.