SOAP 14

Gilbert awoke on a rocky beach, took stock. Dressed in spring-fall weight clothes, good hiking boots, another change of clothes, blanket he'd been wrapped in, canteen of water, thermos of tea, 2 oranges, a little bannock, one package tobacco, cig papers and matches.
Time to think, as he poured 1/2 cup of tea. First no way they'll starve me to death, that would be letting me off easy. If I do meet people who kill me, no big deal. When you look at supplies, they're saying I'll find something within 2 days. Best bet, coast, lighthouse, fishing station or port. Go inland, you find zero.

Charlie was backsliding since Indira's departure. Paper in serious shape, half-dozen reports overdue, hate mail from HQ. He didn't want to miss his daily rounds. So he told Sonali this weekend, go alone to the picnic. I'll barricade myself in the office, face the dragon.

Gilbert saw the sailor women a long ways off, about 20, unarmed, why not? 15 feet away he spotted his old company commander, Captain Strauss. Snapped to attention, proudly cranked out the straight-arm. He was mystified when she returned the mil. She'd always used Party.
Quietly Saras said, "Sgt Gebauer, we must talk, join me for food." They sat a ways off from the rest, talked all day. Her life in Guyana, his in Canada, how she'd arrived here, the unique nature of 3 Kabul. Gently she finished by saying she'd talk with the CO, see if he could fix up Gilbert with a job.
"You won't say I was the worst blood-drinker sgt in your company?"
She laughed, "he wouldn't care. Hired me, and you know my reputation. Alla same, won't tell him."

Didn't take long for Charlie to figure Gilbert. Yeah he'd been a bad one, but lots others had too. Now he was just a guy bored to death with no job, no friends, lonely, aching to do something.
"Gilbert, we'll get you something. Where, I'm not sure, depends on your education level test. I'll book you an appointment with the education counsellor and we'll go from there."
Gratitude washed all over his face, his big chance, "thank you, thank you so much, commander."
"Please, round here, security, it's first name only, I'm Charlie."
"Well thank you so much Charlie."
The education counsellor discovered he could write partial sentences, read easy paragraphs. For sure, needs to start literacy course.
Charlie asked if the kitchen could use Gilbert. The chief cook, Bobogal, was very emphatic, unIslamic. Charlie groaned inwardly, once they use that word, mind is closed.

Sonali said, "baby, you yourself said you were looking for a way to spend a few rupees on something morale-related. How bout evening coffee house? His salary as private is just part of general unit expense. Chaperone for him, no salary, just better food and accommodation. Buy coffee and sugar and presto, coffee house."
"Honey, it's brilliant. But western men don't think that way. He'd tell me to stick the job where the sun don't shine, he doesn't do degrading stuff like that. Still I'll ask him."
Charlie was stunned by Gilbert's reaction. Wildly enthusiastic, couldn't wait to get started on job and course. And so it was 3 Kabul joined the modern world with a coffee house.
His spoken Dari grew apace. Everyone liked his easy-going, friendly, joking ways. Within a month, chaperone was no longer needed.
Palako of the kitchen staff was at the same education level as he. But she too was doing courses. So two people set out on life's adventure, curled up studying together. Both had spent a way too long alone, were very careful to treat the other right.

When Gilbert saw the salary here in relation to tuckshop prices, he was astounded. Back home, a pack of cigs was near $10. Here 3 Rs for 10. More pocket money (relatively) than he'd seen before, halfway watch movies as he worked, courses, good food, love, friends, yeah he was happy here. As he hugged Palako, he told her of this.

Thee had been differences in Capt Strauss's and Sgt Gebauer's backgrounds. Capt came from a moneyed, cultured family, was a university graduate. Sgt, working class, had left school at 15. But they had that special bond from killing together. Apart from that, a darn good officer-sgt relationship, as they largely saw eye-to-eye.
By now Saras was comfortable going to appointments herself. Yes it would be a long, difficult process, but she was off to a solid start.
Seeing the obvious PTSD written all over him, by now a good friend, Saras ever so gently stated how she was doing counselling. Yes Nooria is sympathetic, no problem. No, not sqeamish, well not too much. Would Gilbert consider counselling?
Had anyone else suggested, he would have bristled. But to Saras, he listened with an open mind.
An honest guy, he admitted to her how much pain was in his life. It's just he'd be too shy to go. Saras smiled, as I recall, you saved my life once, you are important to me. If I came with you at the start, would you go?"
He broke into a grin, "if you come, sure, let's book a time."
It took only one appointment and he felt comfortable. Yeah, Nooria would be ok. Thanks so much for your help getting me started.

Nooria sat after, bemused. There is one heck of a lot of difference between officer and enlisted. Enlisted can mostly shrug, that's how it was. Gilbert would be a piece of cake compared to Saras.

Palako noticed the difference after the first appointment. He'd stopped bought her favorite chocolate bar, more relaxed, showering her with kisses. What more do you want for evidence than that? Counselling is great.

Early evening in a call center in a large Canadian city. Violet stood, stretched, departed her tiny 4 foot by 4 foot workstation. It was leasing space in a shopping mall.
She walked to the supermarket, picked out buns, cold cuts, oranges, bananas and tea. Hopped on the bus, flashed her monthly pass, didn't own a vehicle.
Back at her tiny bachelor apartment, really only a room and a bathroom, she made a sandwich and sat over tea. Staring out at the lights, she was lost in thought.
Her only child, son, had died of an overdose in Vancouver.
Only one good thing she could say of her departed husband, he'd never raised a hand to her. But he was a useless drunken pig who had destroyed the farm through sheer negligence and then wrapped the half-ton around a telephone pole.
The equipment was so old it was beyond repair. All she had left was the grain truck. It would take a massive capital infusion to refloat farming operations and she had nothing.
The neighbors, Pierre and Claudette, had been very kind. They'd loaned her their car so she could make arrangements, just used the half-ton themselves.
Net equity was all of $2,000. When her father had been farming, it was worth $925,000 on paper. Now not enough to study or start a business, just enough to move to the city and get a tiny apartment.
She had a degree in English Literature, but that doesn't cut any ice. But hearing her well-spoken voice, the call center boss had given her the job. Not a bad one, market research, lot better than customer service, but boring. But aren't all jobs?
Salary was low, bus pass, rent, groceries, phone, a few coffees and it's gone. Thank heavens there's no dress code in call centers.
City life, boring. Don't even think of the singles scene. All are alcoholics, psychotics or gamblers or all of the above.
As she climbed into bed, she shrugged, "could have been worse. Could have been in the truck, be dead or disabled now.
Next day was off. She did a load of laundry, cleaned a bit. Headed for the library, read the newsmagazines, took back books, borrowed 2 more.

What woke her was the howling of the wind. Funny, no traffic noise, no street lights.
She saw the note, "you won't be harmed. Phone doesn't work, but electricity, heat and water do. Food and utilities continue. The camp a mile away is not military, engaged in educating Afghan refugees."
The MP broke into a huge grin, seeing the matronly woman approach. Took her to the mess. She was overpowered by the reception. Kitchen staff on the run, friendly group.
They gave her a BOQ room for the night so she wouldn't risk injury going home.
Next day, picnic.
As she wandered back, she asked Charlie if there was some way she could help.
"Sure, be an English teacher."
"I don't have an education degree."
"No problem, better academic background than any of our English teachers."
"Sounds fun, let's do it."
"Girls," he said, "Violet is our newest English teacher."
Again she was overwhelmed by the welcome.