Editors’ Note: Richards wrote a series of letters from Afghanistan during her stay in May and June, 2008. The first, second, third, fourth and the fifth provide snapshots of daily life in Herat and Kabul. This letter is the sixth and last. Also, ePluribus Meda staff writer, Roxy Caraway, interviewed Richards about her experience.

Update from Kabul June 17, 2008

Hello everyone,

The guest house has Internet -—woohoo! So I can say hello and check in with you.

This guest house is different from the one we had coming into the country. The other was a little nicer, but this place is secure (always the first consideration), reasonably quiet and clean. The bathroom is basic but ok. Nothing fancy. Though I do notice I have the choice, electrically speaking, of TV or fan. No AC, so I’ll take the fan. The good news is that Kabul is cooler than Herat City.

We arrived in Kabul today a bit after midday. It’s always something of a gamble to figure out when the plane into Herat is actually going to arrive vs. the time it’s scheduled to arrive. And the airport is quite an experience. So, for today’s email, I’ll give you a quick primer about how to negotiate the Herat airport.

First rule is get there early, so we arrived before 7:00 for a 9:00 a.m. flight (which is pretty much guaranteed not to leave before 10, but ya never know).

The wheelbarrow boys will carry your luggage for 20 Afghanis, which is good because the entrance to the airport is blocked by soldiers and no car can get very close, so you walk a while. You also want to get there early because flights are limited and there’s lots of demand. Get there late, and someone will get your seat.

Next, go to the “check-in” counter, which is a 20 foot by 8 foot hut with three doors—one for Ariana, one for KamAir (our airline) and one for another airline whose name I couldn’t read. Eventually someone comes to the door and lets you in. A guy checks your ticket and then you take your luggage to be checked into the next room. There a young man peels off your luggage ID number, puts it on your ticket and your bag. He is assisted by a young boy who periodically takes the scraps of paper left over and runs them over to a trash can across the room.

Once that’s done, if you’re male, turn left. If you’re female, turn right to search hut #1, where you stand in line (again) and wait for the body check. It’s thorough. Then back toward the first building, past it, to the second hut. That’s the luggage screening area.

Note: Anything you don’t want a bunch of soldiers (and other passengers) to see…don’t put in your “checked” luggage. The routine, so to speak, is that everyone kind of hangs around until it’s time for a flight to be processed. Someone from inside the hut calls out your flight. Then you get in line again and work your way up to the door of the hut (about 10 x 10). You have to get your elbows out because people are getting tired of waiting and do some pushing and shoving.

Get in the door, and one soldier checks your ID and ticket. Another one opens your checked luggage (which isn’t checked yet, officially, just labeled), searches it, and marks your ticket. Now, close your luggage, pick it up, turn around and head back out the way you came. Yes, through that same door the other people are trying to get into because their luggage hasn’t been searched/checked yet. Elbows!

Once you’ve fought your way out the in door (or in the out door), go back down the steps and take yourself and your luggage back outside, away from the hut. If you’re lucky (as we were) a spot to stand has opened up in the shade along the wall. Stand there for a while. Pull up your scarf when the wind blows the dust around (it was quite windy, though not too hot at that point). None of the area is paved, by the way.

Amuse yourself in various ways. We watched the progression of a Herati-style hissy fit, produced by a gentleman who did not get there early and thus missed his flight. He was screaming into his phone. The translation was something like, “You people are idiots and I’m never, ever going to fly in your stupid plane again. And there are lots of people here and we will start a great demonstration.” To which my companion said, “It will be a demonstration of 1.” Heh.

OK. So you’ve gotten through two searches; luggage has been examined and tagged, ticket marked. Now you’re ready to go inside the airport compound (all this time you’ve been outside the wall—but think of it as “inside outside” rather than “outside outside” as in the road). So, get back in the line again, do some pushing for a good spot, and go into and through the hut you just fought your way out of. At least now, everyone is moving in the same direction.

Put your searched, tagged, and (finally!) checked luggage on the cart that has magically appeared outside the hut’s exit. Then take your carry-on and walk about a quarter mile, turn left, cross the lot, and get into the next line. Women, go right. Men go left. Here, another body search, even more thorough than the first and everything taken out of the backpack and carefully checked. My nail clippers were confiscated. And my battery charger for the laptop wrapped, tagged, and set aside. Not allowed to be carried on board.

We’re almost there. Walk out of the hut (it’s wooden, about 6 x 5, with two women working and three others enjoying the show), get back on line, ticket and ID scrutinized again, then carry-on bag X-rayed. I had a laptop, which got me stopped, and a conversation about my charger. Finally communicated that the charger was in the hut. OK. The soldier barked, “Go!” and pointed to my next destination.

Women, to the left, men straight ahead. Go around the barricades, down the hallway, through the door—and out onto the tarmac. Walk about 50 yards, and there’s the staircase up to the plane. Welcome to KamAir! We got orange Mirinda drink and bread on the flight. Yes!

My two male companions had somehow made it through the “process” a bit faster and had saved me a seat (no sign of the “women go ahead” lines as in Kabul). Plane was full; I was one of about 7 women on board.

So that’s the Herat airport experience. On the plus side—I got through fine. There was a nice breeze (cooler, more dust, but fewer flies), and the flight was uneventful. Since the plane has to go over the high mountains near Kabul, the captain has to do a sort of nose-dive into the city, which is a tad disconcerting the first time.

The pilot on this trip was less experienced so he sat a bit too much on the rudder and we had a pretty rough landing. It is much easier going through Kabul airport when it’s a domestic flight (no customs lines, etc.). I made good use of my elbows; no one tried to “assist” me with my luggage. (I have learned to say “ne!” quite sternly.) Got my luggage. Got my charger. Our driver met us, and we drove through the city, past the president’s palace and embassies, shops, businesses, and to our guest house. Tomorrow I have meetings with some folks at Kabul University. Otherwise, not a terribly taxing day, or at least I hope not.

I did decide, after hut #4, not to mention body search #3, that I was never, ever going to complain about security lines at Bradley. They’re indoors. Climate controlled. No one squeezes my, um, womanly parts. And the TSA people, while not the most congenial folks of all time, at least don’t have machine guns. You go through the process just once. And it’s a whole lot easier to check your luggag...

It’s about 7:00 pm here, beginning to cool off nicely. Soon we’ll get something to eat and then get some rest.

Thanks again for all your good wishes and prayers. They mean a lot. We’re heading toward home!

Discuss these notes from Afghanistan.  

 About the Author: Beth Richards is the Director of Rhetoric and Professional Writing at the University of Hartford. Responses and questions about her experiences and the program can be sent to her at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

Photo Credits: © 2008, Beth Richards reprinted with permission; Red door in Afghanistan © 2008, Andrea Laurita , reprint rights secured, istockphotos; Mountains outside Kabul © 2008 Adam Bauer, reprinted with permission