Sandeep

My sister-in-law Savitri is on the phone, "Sandeep, I'm a busy person, you gotta meet my schedule."
I have no choice, me asking for the favor, "whatever time you wish."
"Friday night, Caffeine Cave."
I protest, "promised you a real restaurant meal. All you can get there is grilled sandwiches."
"Sandeep, my boy, do I hafta paint a picture? I wouldn't dare go there alone, want to see it."
"Why on earth you wanna visit a meat rack for gays?"
"The anthropologist in me, Sandeep, see you Friday."

I'm on edge, see she's a sessional lecturer/grad student in English Literature. She's read the first draft of my novel, I'll get the verdict.
We order and I pay at the counter. Maurice flashes me one filthy look which says, "don't ever bring a 'fish' here again."
Savitri smiles as we sit, "I made a page of notes. Start with setting. Awesome. Everything from prices 'on the pave' to newspaper articles of the Burnham era to good scenery of Guyana. Just one problem. Your Guyanese reader would really prefer more plot, less setting. Your white reader is very busy, doesn't buy 450 page novels anymore."
I nod.
"Characters come across as too simplistic to a Guyanese. Yet your white reader would find them complicated, unfamiliar names you know. Caught in the middle."
I nod.
"Dialogue, good balance. Just enough Guyanese slang to keep it interesting. Not too much to confuse."
I nod.
"Plot bites, bigtime. Come on Sandeep, most exciting thing in there is smuggling a suitcase of watches. How bout something more thrilling?"
"Savitri, suppose I cleaned it up, found just the right balance you allude to. Guesstimate the royalties."
She laughs easily, "no market for a genre like this, too narrow. If you sell at all, I'd be surprised. If you collect a thousand, I'd be astounded."
I groan aloud.
She switches to news of friends and relatives back in Guyana.

Saturday morning I'm back in the Caffeine Cave for brunch. Loud raucous conversation of some 15 gay guys with several tables pushed together.
We call ourselves the Latex Legion. All out of action due to severe latex allergy.
Everyone has way too much time, most are getting into trouble because of it. Me, where else would I find the time to write that novel?
As the group breaks up, I buy 20 minutes surf. As always, no email, I'm a total outcast back home. Rest of my time is Guyana Chronicle news site.

Monday morning I'm at the bank of elevators. I groan inwardly as Asmina, that cougar in Business Audit shows. During the ride to our floor, she shamelessly hits all over me.
She turns north to Business Audit, I turn south to Error Corrections Unit.
Dave, a co-worker, falls in step with me, "ain't it always the truth? Women want the 'forbidden fruit', pardon the pun."
I laugh.
"Why not take her up on it?"
"Oh yeah," I reply sarcastically, "we got lots in common. I'm gay, she's straight. I'm Hindu, so next round of violence in India, she'll be royally ticked at me. Add in she's 15 years older, makes twice as much. Happy little couple!"
"But other than that stuff, she does have a nice bod."
"Dave, in case I haven't made myself clear, I'm gay. You chase her."
"Nah, she hates white boys."

I use my Revenue Canada swipe card, enter where angels fear to tread.
I can tell a neighbor Rachel has big news. Tells me how her pension starts in a few days. She and husband are headed to Israel.
"What on earth for? Isn't there lotsa trouble there?"
"Sandeep my boy, the cause. We're Jews, first last and always."
"Must be nice to have a cause."
She smiles sadly, "you have two. It's just no one will let you participate. Guyana and Carib crowd doesn't want you, most are too homophobic. Gay crowd doesn't want you mostly, because so many are racist. With us, it's simple, we're Jews, other Jews accept us."
"Wish you the best."
By noon, I'm starting to feel the flu floating around. Go home early, pile a mountain of blankets and coats over me.

I awake to see a vaguely Arabic-looking woman, who vanishes, reappears with a woman in blue and white naval-type uniform. Single silver bar on each shoulder, probably Lieutenant.
In a posh British accent, Lt informs me I'm lucky to be alive.
I shrug, "last I heard, no one died of that flu."
"Not the flu. They voted to kill you. I vetoed the vote result."
This is starting to take on Mad Hatter Tea Party tone.
She grins wickedly, "when you see how primitive it is, you'll probably wish I hadn't used my power of veto."
"So who are you?"
"We are a group of Afghan castaways. You ever read science fiction?"
"Nah, mostly whites are into that."
"Well, you have the good fortune or bad fortune to be trapped in the same timewarp as us. Which languages do you know?"
"English, some Hindi."
"Meet Zohra, your wife now. Doesn't speak a word of English, but that's hardly necessary to fulfill your husbandly duties."
"Wife? You must be mad, I'm gay."
Lt laughs easily, "I can tell that from the haircut, I'm westernized. Resta these people wouldn't have a clue. So Mr Gay Guy, prefer to be Mr Dead Guy?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"Only way they agreed to accept my veto, I promised them a draw. Zohra won."
"So what do I do?"
"Close your eyes, use a fantasy. Don't produce, she'll stab you."
As Lt, Zohra and I walk through a tent city, a crowd of women and girls is staring at me as if I were a little green Martian.
We arrive at a 10 foot by 10 foot tent, which belongs to Zohra and three girls, ages 9, 7, and 5.
Zohra tells the girls something and the nine-year-old takes the others away.
Now this is definitely not porn, just my story. So all I will say is the Lt gave me good advice. The fantasy worked.

I'm eating breakfast with Zohra, the three girls and Lt. Lt informs me the 9-y-o Meena knows a little English, will be my Dari instructor. Lt gives a long song and dance on how they ended up in a sci fi adventure. I see a strange look come over Meena's face.
It being a nice day, Meena and I sit outside with a beginner level Dari reader.
Flatly she says, "so you're a murderer too."
"What on earth gave you that idea?"
"Lt is a nut case. Sees herself as a heroine in a movie. Truth is this is a prison, isolated island. All the grownups are murderers. So, who'd you kill?"
"President of Guyana Society of Literature."
"Cooool, I like you. No one else here likes lit either."

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 22

Two girls behind me are arguing.
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
The Dari teacher enters, "did everyone enjoy their week off?"
They manage to get in another round.
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Sorry to hear one of you didn't, everyone else did. Down to business. Nooria, Fereshta front and center. Two scripts, one is captain of an alien ship reporting back to his CO, other a Kandahar teahouse gay. Fairest way, flip a coin, call it in the air Fereshta."
"Heads."
"You win, Fereshta, which do you pick?"
"Ship's captain, ma'am." (figures.)
"Quit slouching, stand up straight, you are a naval captain."
Fereshta is relaying the outrageous findings to her CO, offstage. She has to stop often, as the laughter is deafening. Conclusion, no intelligent life evident, yet anyhow, not worthy of contact, check back in 5,000 years or so.
As the turban is tied on me, I realize why I flopped playing the gay cavalier opposite Fereshta. Fear of the jealousy in Shauzia, held me back.
This time I don't. Pour my energy into the part. It's bittersweet and the the girls alternately laugh and some cry as the character debates whether to kill himself. Conclusion, of course he decides not to, don't wanna give the girls bad ideas.
As we file out, the 2 grapplers continue.
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
Shauzia has a bitten attitude, sniffy, "soon as I saw the turban go on you, saw a huge change in you. That's why you and me, we have so many problems. Really, you wanna be a guy. Admit it!"
"Ok, I admit it. So what? Who with any sense wouldn't? Don't they get all the fun? Don't women always hafta clean their mess?"
"Cool it! Chill! Don't yell at me! Just saying the obvious. Now you gotta choice. You smarten up, right here and now, or you and me are through."
"Yes oh mighty lord and master! You do that! You throw me out! Then maybe you get some nice slavegirl who'll kiss your feet morning noon and night! Then you'll be happy! So, do it! Double dog dare you!!"
At this, she grabs me, starts vigorous French-kissing. After, "you really are beautiful when you're angry. So much fun making up."
Obviously there's lotta bored people here, too much free time, gotta invent trouble.
"Did too" and "did not" are watching. "Did too" grabs "did not" and starts kissing. What a soap opera. To top it off, later "did not" thanks me for being a good example.

We're invited to a Bollywood movie, equipment set up in the members mess. It takes 8 showings to cover all 2,000 girls. Attack on my senses, so much color, sound, music, dance, flashy clothes, nice cars, etc. My eye is accustomed to drab, as in drab uniforms, barracks, classrooms and landscape. I don't sleep that night, feeling assaulted, yet it was fun.
Once the rotation is over, they decide on a monthly movie for everyone, it worked smoothly. Doesn't sound like much to you westerners, but for us, it's wonderful.

Arifa gasps, "girls, newsletter story for you." Everyone gathers around. "We now have parking regulations, spaces for 180 scooters, I'll read the whole story."
After, a cacophony of conversation, everyone stunned.

Thursday morning, MP sgt grins, "how bout that Nooria. Should I tell the rest or you?"
"Sarge you better, they'd never believe me."
They too are stunned. Debate is lively, hilarious. Just before Amina and I leave for patrol, MP sgt raises her mug, "a toast. Single-handed slaying of the the dragon. Only weapon, sense of humor. To Nooria."

Amina grins as we walk away, "such a sly little devil you are. Imagine, you can keep secrets, makes you a rarity round here."
For the next 3 days, that's all anyone talks of. Then it's old hat.

Lt smiles smugly, "not so very long ago, you people were calling this a ridiculous debating society. Well, you've scored 2 direct hits. Every girl in camp can thank you for the movies. And parking regs started here."
Tasmina, "still don't see any scooters to do the parking."
"Soon will. Won't charge freight, just bring em on the ship. Also, overseas posting, which means duty-free. Get em here cheaper, take em back with you. Members I mean."
Tasmina asks, "isn't it too much hassle, ma'am? Bring gas and spare tires and such."
Lt grins, "people only have so much money. So spend it on the scooter, less for dope. CO hopes to turn it into a colony of bikers."
"Don't bikers smoke lotsa dope?"
Lt laughs, "you do your best, to get my goat. Do the math, dope or scooter, can't afford both."
"But then how on earth would dopers have money saved up, ma'am?"
Lt twists a smile, "ah, think we've found the hole in the CO's theory. Sober people, money in the bank, they'll buy. Dopers can't save and don't want to. Oh well, probably sell two dozen, it's a start."
I ask, "ma'am, couldn't AAW loan them the money?"
"Frosty Friday, they don't have, how could they loan to anyone else?"
I persist, "ma'am, why not raffle? Every few months, raffle off a scooter. Any surplus, donate to Malalia Hospital."
Lt smiles, "good idea Nooria. Be a profit for a good cause, get a few drivers on the road."
Tasmina deep-sixes the idea, "not on your life, think stoned driving accidents. Winners of the draw are gonna wind up dead. Dangerous trails, want anyone stoned playing on em?"
A girl asks, "ma'am why now? Why the bike thing now? Camp has been here for years."
"CO is trying to turn this from a hardship posting to a pleasant one. You see, with isolation from various problems, this school way out-performs any other AAW ones. Paradox, the girls are so well-behaved; the members so bad. Trying to change that."
Another girl asks, "ma'am how did all this dope get going? Few years ago, women didn't do that."
Lt smiles, "equality. You get it, you make the same mistakes as the men."

Long cheerful line into the members mess, comedy movie, the original Pink Panther. I've seen it before on TV. Fabulous, hilarious chase action. They don't make movies that good anymore.
Laughter is deafening. Slapstick, unlike some other genres, travels well across linguistic and cultural barriers. Also, good English practice.
Feedback is so positive, they decide to bring more old comedies. Lotsa those old movies floating around. Besides, a lot of these people need to lighten up a bit.

Jamila Preview

Lily is a white Canadian doomed to a life of total exclusion. As the pain gets too much, she decides to end it.
A time traveller from the future comes to her rescue, ends up in a worse mess.
Torch then passes to Jamila, a Lieutenant in AAW (Association of Afghan Women), already considered crazy by her colleagues. But she rallies, uses the time traveller's unique skills.

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 21

Lt continues, "you future officers are gonna have lots of time chatting with each other. May as well, learn now. One rule, can't break up into small groups. Other than that, any topic you like. I will only intervene if it leads to fisticuffs."
Tasmina grins sheepishly, "anyone read any good books lately?"
Groan, boos.
After several false starts, they get going on Bollywood movies. I've never seen one, but after the conversation, I'd sure like to try.

I'm definitely getting ticked with Shauzia. When she was a femme, did good hairstyles. Now she's viewed as butch, couldn't care less, sloppy. Still, she expects me to look nice and has taught me over a dozen different styles.
Next patrol I try asking Nilofar about this. Her look says, "kid, that's the stupidest question I've heard in a donkey's age." Her voice is a little more kind, "Nooria, forget about all that. More of you than of her. Competition you see. Step on her too hard, it's easier for her to find someone else than for you."
"But that's ridiculous, that's ..."
"Nooria, two ways around it. Find someone smaller or outgrow her."
"But that's not fair."
"Nooria my friend, you just are not paying attention. Have you seen even one ounce of evidence to show life itself is fair?"
I blush.
Nilofar takes my hand, "come on, don't shoot the messenger."
"Sorry, but at least I know."

It gets worse. When we're in the mess, Shauzia expects me to fetch tea refills for her and me. This time I opt to ask Arifa, who rolls her eyes, "look around Nooria. Isn't everyone else doing the same? How do you expect to hold onto her if you don't play by the rules?"
"But that's unfair."
"Nooria last I looked, there is nothing special about you. Not rich or famous or good-looking. Do you really think you deserve some sort of exemption?"
I blush.
"Your choice, play by the rules or learn to like being alone."
By now I'm close to crying.
"Nooria, you've been in the members mess a lot. Aren't they doing the same as the girls? Fetching tea?"
"Yeah."
"And when you grow up and live in a Married Quarters unit, yes it'll be you dusting and sweeping. But at least you don't hafta shop for food or cook or wash dishes. So, you're better off than other women."
"If you put it like that."
"Nooria, God decides if you are man or woman, and what size. Just gotta live with it."
My fierce blush says it all.
"Oh ho," she says quietly, "hit the nail on the head. Feel cheated you aren't a guy."
I nod.
"Get over it. Lotta girls in the world would happily trade places with you."
I can't help it, I'm crying, sobbing uncontrollably. Arifa hugs me tight throughout. After, as she wipes my eyes, "well now, just proved you are human after all. Not a robot or space alien. So you do have some feeling, can connect with it. I'm proud of you, come a long ways here."
I ponder that, she's right.

Lt has that sinister smile, "right, everyone ready for the term break? One whole week of goofing off, one whole week of relax."
Tasmina replies cheekily, "they gonna give us two? One to goof off, one to relax?"
"We have a smart-aleck. Sorry, have to do both in the same week. Everyone except this class of course. We're going camping for a week."
This sets off a firestorm of protest, everything but four-letter words.
As it dies out, Lt grins, "noticed a funny thing. Everyone except Nooria was protesting."
Cries of "traitor".
Lt continues, "so Nooria, why weren't you?"
"Perhaps ma'am, I simply realize the futility. You're gonna get your way anyway, why bother?"
"That certainly doesn't stop the others. So Nooria, your opinion of the great outdoors?"
"Ma'am, I like being outside, like going on patrol."
"What Nooria fails to elaborate on, I will. Nothing bonds like shared misery. So your choice, a week of camping as a group, or a week of KP (Kitchen Police) as a group? Hands up, all who prefer KP?" Not one hand. "There you have it, democracy rules, we go camping."
Various comments on Soviet election methodology.

Bowing to the inevitable, I graciously am fetching Shauzia's tea. This counts for little when it all hits the fan.
"How dare they?" she asserts, "they have no business dragging people on camping trips. Should invite each girl's Friend along or else make it optional."
Drily I reply, "trip is CO's orders. Perhaps you'd care to share your thoughts with her? Send her a memo maybe?"
"Nah, go ahead. But is isn't fair. You always get the macho stuff and I'm the butch."
I could comment, but why bother? More trouble than it's worth.

We're issued blankets, tents, cooking gear. Jeeps will haul us out and back. Two adults, our Lt and one other Lt, to supervise.
The real reason I'd dreaded this is grownups like to schedule, regiment you to death.
Surprise, we get there and Lt explains the rules. Must be together as a group at all times. Other than that, anything we like.
We're camped near the ocean, but not permitted to swim, too cold and dangerous. We gather mussels for cookups, driftwood for campfires. Walks. Talk philosophy and tell stories.
It's a magnificent time and every one of us is disappointed when the jeeps come to retrieve us.
As I ride back, listen to the friendly banter, I realize the CO's decision paid off. We started as a group who little in common other than the fact our names were selected. Somewhere during the week, we ended up becoming friends.

But then it's back to the real world, or rather our forgotten little corner of it, a world of fetching tea and wrestling with Dari papers.
Shauzia very pointedly passes me her mug. Tasmina rolls her eyes. It's hard not to laugh, but I manage.
As Shauzia and I walk back to B14, she does her stormtrooper routine, "you and that girl! You did something! Why you ..."
"Shut up. Two adults, 2 tents, 6 of us in each tent. Care to call one of the Lt a liar?"
"Hey lighten up Nooria."
"Don't you dare go like that! You started it! Besides, how do I know what you were doing? You were a lot more free to wander than I was."
She grabs me and starts vigorous kissing. "So much fun to make up after."

Arifa sits back, rubs her eyes, "what absolute dreck! Load of nonsense!"
"How so?" a girl asks.
"This science fiction book. Seems the main heroine just jumps in and takes over someone's body."
"So, what's unusual about that? You have heard of possession?"
"No, this isn't a demonic possession. See she takes over from someone near dead, does a better job. But this just won't wash, after all she's a foreigner. How on earth would people be fooled by a foreigner?"
"Yeah, seems far-fetched."
Arifa continues, "I mean come on, who's the strangest person in B14?"
"Nooria of course."
"Well even Nooria, goofy as she is, no one would ever take her for a foreigner."
The girl laughs, "but isn't a murder mystery crazy? Or one of those sappy romances? Isn't all of literature utter nonsense?"
"Nice try, kid. Do your homework, whether you like literature or not."
They both laugh.
The girl turns to me, "so what do you think of lit?"
"Lit and comp will be the death of me. If I ever jump offa cliff, it'll be because of them. I'd rather read history."
She frowns, "ufff, even worse. Bet I know over a hundred girls here. Not one, not one likes history. All go ufff, ufff."
"All? Every one?"
She smiles earnestly, "grownups had it easy. Learned history when there was a lot less of it. Every year, just more and more. Twenty years from now, those books'll weigh 30 pounds."
I laugh, "that will collapse those flimsy desks."
"You like all the wrong stuff, math, history. Maybe you're a space alien. Or a demon."
"Or a vampire," I add helpfully, "you know I ain't a werewolf or you'd have seen the fur by now."
"Cool, a vampire. We're all cannibals anyway, why not vampires too? Want to bite me?"
"Nah. My girlfriend, she would get mega-jealous."
She looks at me a long moment, "now I know why you're so wierd. You ate more bodies than the rest of us combined. Lead poisoning. Maybe it's why we're all so crazy."
"Cheerful thought."
"So why didn't you just jump offa mountain?"
I groan, "don't even know."
"Same as me, don't know. And don't say by the grace of God. You, me, everyone here, we're way outside of God's filing cabinet. Legion of the Damned, that's us."
"Watch your language," Arifa asserts.
"Sor-ry."

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 20

Dari teacher continues, "so, neither Fereshta nor Nooria was wilfully defiant. Both tried, just missed the target by a long shot. The real problem, is that creativity is associated with emotional openess. You two are as closed off as it gets. But not to worry, we have an exercise to change all that. See an actor or actress can get lazy. Suppose he always plays the swashbuckling bad guy or she always plays the vamp. Becomes routine, don't think outside the role. Same as you two. Now glance through these scripts and you're on, showtime."
I blush ferociously. Two gay Taliban men, the ultimate taboo. Once we've looked, teacher continues, "Act One, sharing of love, not just sex. Act Two, the tragedy, the parting. Nooria, you will feel total betrayal. Fereshta, angry at your family for forcing the arranged marriage. To help you along, voila, black turbans. Don't just stand about, girls, hop to it. Fereshta, that chair. Nooria, on her knee. Show time, let's roll."
I catch the look of total jealousy on Shauzia. I'm in big trouble now. Still, can't afford to think about that now. Play the role, deal with the problem later.
Gasp, it calls for hugging, kissing, thank heavens no French-kissing.
End of Act One, treacher smiles, "ok, report card so far. Fereshta, didn't think you had one ounce of love in you. You fooled me, put on a good show. And you Nooria, with that wooden little face of yours, didn't think you had one ounce of any emotion in you. You did better than I expected, but nowhere near as well as Fereshta. Now Act Two, Nooria, every ounce of cheated betrayed disappointment you can muster. Fereshta, a homicidal rage toward your father."
After, teacher smiles sadly, "Fereshta, good job, looked one second away from killing your father. Nooria, I'm sorry to say, didn't do disappointment well. In fact, you looked relieved. Obviously you need more practice."
By now, I'm blushing more than I ever have. Shauzia has a look of "kill" in her eyes. Oh no, why do these things happen to me?
"You liked it! You loved every minute of it! You liked necking with her! You were disappointed there was no French-kissing! Slut! Whore! Pig! What sort of Friend are you?"
Somehow I sense the only way out. I hug her gently, wait for it to subside.
She wipes her tears, "ah, guess I overreacted a bit. It was just a play. Forgive me?"
"Only if you kiss me."
She does, including French. We walk back hand-in-hand. Shy tone, she says, "guess we ain't friends anymore, now Friends."
"Guess so."
"What do you mean, guess so?"
"I mean, yeah, we are."

As Shauzia and I sit, Nabila approaches, "congratulations."
"On what?" Shauzia asks.
"Come on, half the camp would have seen that heavy smooching, Friends, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well congratulations," Nabila turns to Shauzia with a serious look, "she's your property now. I don't wanna risk jealousy. So, ok if I talk with her about class?"
"Suit yourself."
"Now Nooria," Nabila starts earnestly, "just what do you think of the Dari teacher? I mean, after today."
"I ah prefer not to say."
"Goo-ood. So there is feeling there. Want revenge?"
"Nabila, my experience is revenge doesn't work. I do something, she does worse."
"Sensible one you are. Ok, how bout a chance to boost your Dari mark?"
"I'm all ears."
"She just pulled the oldest trick in the composition teacher book on you and Fereshta."
"How so?"
"A student just can't bring any emotion to her writing. Hard to generate something from nothing. But if you can give her pain, anger, hatred, anything, you've generated energy. She can then turn that into her next paper. So search your heart, find a story that resonates with anger."
It comes in a flash, "black US sgt, Viet Nam, mega-ticked at a white officer over racial insults. Tet 1968, lotta loose bullets flying, decides on one more. Next firefight, officer buys the farm. Slang term is to frag."
Nabila smiles proudly, "you just did the hardest part. Easy part is techical detail. So, go to the library, read up on M16s."
Shauzia hugs me warmly, "let's go together."
"Not so fast, didn't thank Nabila yet."

"Nooria, front and center. Now class, a pleasant surprise. Winning the prize for most improvement. Read it aloud, Nooria."
I do. Look, see all thumbs go up. By now, I'm on the edge of crying.
Teacher, "it resonates. You can smell the jungle, the cordite, the fear and especially the sgt's anger. You feel that hot sweaty burning desire for revenge. I would say Nooria has come a long way." Pause. "Next assignment, love story. Not gay, not lesbian, must be straight. Here are the guidelines..."
I groan inwardly, sounds like Mount Everest.
The girls are commiserating on that one. After all, not a lot of them have seen a good straight relationship.
Nabila saves the day, "girls, love is an emotion, can have any target. So you Nooria, for example, just think how you feel about Shauzia. Have the heroine take those same feelings, write a guy into the story. He need not be a macho pig you know. Could be a decent gentle guy."
I see comprehension all around.
Nabila continues, "and for you butches, even easier. Just think of your girlfriend, no switcheroo needed."
I protest, "that whole idea is ridiculous. Shauzia and I both used to be 'femme'. Now, just because she's bigger she's automatically 'butch'. Crazy rules, now ..."
Shauzia grins, "oh shut up Nooria. Just means I can write from both sides of the fence. So, anyone need help, just ask the expert, me!"
Boos, hisses, catcalls, groans, statements of feeling sorry for Nooria having to put up with someone so stuck up. All joke. Shauzia isn't stuck up.

As she passes out papers, Dari teacher quietly tells me, "just didn't think you had it in you. Did great. I mean, great compared to how you do. The rest did do lots better."
Left-handed compliment - I'll still take it - better than she used to say.
Amina grins, "I don't believe it. Actually managed a C on a love story. Cheating you were, got Shauzia to provide half the feelings."
"Mum, that's called sharing."
"I know, just teasing you. So it really worked, blew out the cobwebs when you wrote on that fragging in Nam."

Parvana raises her fist, "let's follow the White Rabbit. With any luck, we'll find Wonderland."
Zala laughs, "we done found it. Here."
Laughter.
Amina grins, "and with you clowns, everyday is like the Mad Hatter's Tea Party."
Wolf howls, cheers as we climb aboard.
Sitting across from me, Nilofar quietly asks, "so, how's things with Shauzia?"
"When she was my jailer, hung close. Now, more so. Lotsa time, feel like I can't breathe. Anytime I say anything, she gets bigtime sniffy. What am I doing wrong?"
"Nothing, just how it is. Anytime 2 women or 2 girls, lotsa jealousy. Just gotta live with it."
"So what's the choice? Totally alone, hermit, dying of loneliness? Or suffocation? Why is there no happy medium?"
"Why does the sun rise? Why are there tides? Just is."
"So this is my whole life? I mean, when I grow up."
"For a while. Until she stabs you," then I see the wink. "So, enjoy it while you can. Just garden variety jealousy now. After you join up, variables are dope, sex, cheating and knives. Like soldiers on maneuver. So wanna make any mistakes, make em now, not after you're 17."
Where have I heard that line? Same line I gave Tasmina about OC meetings.

There's a thin smile on the Lt's face, "now class, I have heard a lot of complaints about these leadership exercises. People say the envelopes are phony-baloney, no real way of attaching meaning. So, we have something a little different. Look at our stats on average, of every dozen girls who are OC, 11 go on to join us as Lt. Pretty successful rate. Look around, lot of these faces, you'll see for the next 30 years, maybe more. So, everyone go to the mess now, fetch a mug of tea. Come back quickly, no dillydallying."
We do.
"Ok, now you start to understand the life of an officer. Social time."
I see dumbfounded looks.

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 19

"Tell me," nurse asks the British doctors at the pizza party, "your ah female members. How do they do, addictions wise? Better than the men?"
"Sad to say, just as bad. We've achieved equality you see. Years ago, there was a sort of social pressure which slowed women down. Seems to have disappeared. They're now perfectly free to follow the siren song of addiction, just like the other half of the species. Lotta cases, it's worse. Smaller body to dilute the substance."
This is no shock to me, I do come from Saskatoon via Lilac Valley.
Nurse asks, "so what's the main dimension you spot in drug abuse?"
"Seems to revolve around Type A and Type B personalities. Type A gets bored a lot quicker. After all, soldiering is a lot more boring than the movies make it seem. Type A, high addiction rate. Type B, level-headed sort, mostly a few pints with the lads, leave it at that. If I were in charge of recruitment, I'd choose mostly Type B."
Nurse grins, "doesn't work that way, does it? Mostly Type A applies in the first place."
All three laugh.
Doctor, "I'm afraid it all comes down to money. You can endlessly blather on about quote recruiting a better class of soldier. In the end, there isn't one pound extra in the budget to do it. So ultimately, you end up with 2 classes. One, total misfit anywhere else, seeking a refuge. These come from all strata of society. Two, those merely poor, seeking a start in life. But of course, some of those poor will have the same flaws as the others. And once steady pay starts coming, addictions appear which weren't there before. Still, as our friend Nooria so kindly points out, that is why we get the big salary."
They all laugh.
Nurse sighs, "talk about your ultimate contradiction in terms. Everytime you think you've got her figured, there is something else. How did you actually manage? Four days of all those byzantine alleyways."
Grin, "I like her. Dragon yet a lamb. Devil yet an angel. Adult yet a child. Rather her than the boring sort."
"Don't imagine many of our girls were boring to you."
"Heavens no. It's true what they say, Afghan women are the roughest toughest women on the planet. These, still apprenticing, soon get there. And since it takes a lion to lead lions, I wouldn't be too surprised if Nooria ends up your Commander-in-Chief."
Nurse agrees, "she does have that air."
Doctor smiles, "want the real truth? How I tracked behind her? My husband's best friend is battalion commander of 2 Para. It's stunning, but she says a lot of the same things he does. Very similar patterns of thought. So, used to following him in conversation, Nooria wasn't really that hard. Eerie, in anyone so young; especially so in a girl."
Nurse smiles uneasily, "yeah, was thinking the same myself, lots during the four days."
"Nuff shop talk, more pizza?"

Officer Cadet meeting, Lt asks why I missed the last one.
"Ma'am, was the British doctors, with me from breakfast til near lights out."
She sniffs, "got rules. Miss and you get the envelope next time."
I could argue but why bother? Another clown show. Bring it on. So much more fun to strafe it, shoot it full of holes myself than watching the others.
"You are commander of a space vessel, circa year 2200. You've crash-landed on a planet 50,000 light-years from Earth. All the initial survival problems have now been sorted, for better or worse. Com equipment totally dis. You've found food and water, prepared shelters, established there are no dangerous predators. With these concerns sorted, your crew is restive, bored. What action do you propose?"
"I could play Captain Bligh. But then I'd soon be messily dead. Emergency over, a new society is establishing itself. Dictatorship only works well during emergency, rarely does well in normal civil society. Let's establish democracy, rules of voting, egalitarian wealth sharing, use everyone's skills, give people a sense of belonging. 50,000 light-years, we aren't gonna be rescued soon. Better to be an ordinary citizen in a peaceful regime than a dead captain."
I look, see all thumbs go up.
Lt shakes her head, "uncanny, like you gotta sixth sense Nooria. Always come out on the sensible side. Don't fall into traps the others do. Wonder why."
"Lt, I do read history. I'm told this makes me a rarity."
"Well now, we have our answer. Forget history, doomed to repeat it. Rest of you girls, listen up, study harder in history."
Boos, groans, catcalls.
"Now girls, I have received your message loud and clear. You say committee work is boring and meaningless. Ok, I'll remedy that, give you real stuff. Here is the library budget. No need to come to consensus tonight. Topic will continue until it's sorted. Wanta show off how smart you are, show this poor broke librarian how to squeeze a few rupees. Time to put up or shut up!"
This time, there is no easy glib answer, no phony-blaoney consensus. We spend the rest of the evening coming to terms with how grim the librarian's world really is."

As we walk back, Tasmina groans, "liked it better how it was."
I reply, "end of the age of innocence."
"Yeah, wonder why she has such a bitten attitude."
"Think war games, as in officer staff college. Would you rather make a mistake in a computerized war game? Or rather make it with real men's lives at stake?"
"Yeah, I hear you. Better to look like an idiot here and now, not later. Far better than shooting yourself in the foot with real rupees and real jobs on the line. Funny one you are, only one who can understand the enemy's thinking."
As it turns out, we surrender after our sixth session, admit there ain't one rupee to be squeezed. Good learning experience all the same.

I feel totally trashed, burnt out, fried. Just not used to that much social. And while the doctors were not unkind, they did cause me to shine a light on areas I'd really rather not.
They're right, devil and angel. Sweet little innocent me and the maniac on the megakill. Sometimes I'm both at the same time. Does every kid growing up deal with this sort of problem? Or just me?
See, I've looked up the history. Any dimension you care to measure, Major Strasser led the way. Most deaths overall. Most deaths per man-year of labor. Most deaths by a single battalion in a single year. Yep, the Major left the competition in the dust. And now, innocent little me has to deal with it all.
I feel Amina's warm relaxed grip and thank the fates. Least I'm not alone.
Parvana takes my hand as we head off to do paper. "You feeling ok, Nooria?"
"Yes."
"Real quiet."
"Just burnt out."
"They were hard on you?"
"No, but they caused me to shine a light on spots I'd really rather not."
"Least you're honest Nooria. Lotsa people ain't, lie to themselves all their lives."

No matter what, there's always something else. Nothing is ever enough.
Shauzia grabs my arm, "now you listen to me. Been ignoring me of late."
"Ignoring you? Come on, just busy."
"Look you, I ain't just your jailer anymore. We are friends. So dig that head out of the clouds."
I look at her. Jealousy. Oh no. Gotta do something. "right, nice walk tomorrow?"
Her face softens a bit, "ok, but nowhere near cliffs. You been a bit crazy with those doctors about."
"Let's just say they were walking on my grave."
I see the concern, love, friendship, "you don't necessarily hafta explain. But you do hafta spend lotsa time with me."
We walk. I don't say a word. Afraid what will come out. She doesn't either. But somehow that doesn't matter, companionship is enough.

Dari teacher, "Nabila, front and center. Now this, class, is how literature is supposed to be. Nabila read it out."
It's good, touching, entitled "The Cell Phone." A market fruit vendor in Peshawar has an obsession. Must own a cell phone. Can't afford a monthly plan. But using prepaid card, his costs are maybe 1/4 of a fixed home phone. He even has different color plastic covers, to match the fruits in season.
His family pays a price for this obsession. Food is lackluster, daughter lacks needed medicine, repairs don't get done.
Nabila does a good job of showing the family tension, including the acid comment that if the son needed medicine, he'd get. Still, it is impossible to actually hate the man, because he's painted as a decent chap in all other regards.
"Nooria, Fereshta, front and center. I'll spare these 2 the humiliation of reading this awful dreck. I assigned a topic of 3 or 4 characters, which must include emotional interaction.
"Fereshta, this story of 3 foreign NGO women. 15 times there was hugging, every one of those a copout, should have shown some emotion.
"Nooria, this story of 3 stranded Air Force men. 6 times you threw in jokes, when you should have shown emotion instead."

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 18

"Ok girls," CO says, "now the news. This isn't optional, everyone is in it. Over the years, the British Army has been very generous with us. Equipment, obsolete to them, but still good and usable for us, like classroom or mess gear. Our British friends have asked for our help. Doctor, if you will."
Doctor licks her lips nervously, "this manual is conspicuously missing one item, effects of cannibalism. They're thinking of including a chapter in their next edition. Look around the world, there really are not a lot of people who can speak from experience. Every girl here will have a medical and psychological examination. Two British doctors, both women of course. Every minute of your medical, either myself or a nurse will be present. They want things like hair sample, urine sample, pulse, respiration, blood pressure, weight, height, measure body fat and the like. Absolutely nothing will be injected. Only pain, you will give a blood sample, but small." She looks around, sees the shock. "I would point out proprieties will be respected. No touching or examination of any improper parts. No one gets out of underwear." Looks of relief.
"As for the psychological exam, no they aren't being cruel. They won't ask any of the nitty-gritty nasty stuff. In fact, a nurse will be present during these interviews. She has authority to delay or stop any interview, if she feels you are too stressed out. Now here's what they really want. Only 2 questions relate to the cannibalism itself. One, how long ago was it. Two, how long a duration were you involved in it. Beyond that, it's your current state they want to know. Nightmares, lack of sleep, concentration in school, relationships. They want to see how well you bounced back from it."
"But ma'am," I query, "suppose a person were not too mentally healthy before it. Would that not throw out their results?"
"Not actually, both are extremely well-versed in spotting underlying disorders, building it into their calculations. I would repeat the nurse is present every minute of your hour or hour and a half. For some, she'll be interpreter. But for all, she has final authority. She tells the doctors to stop, they do."
CO starts again, "would be nice if I could offer inducement. Can't, rumor has it we are near to bankrupt. But think of this. The French give sufficient funds for 1,300 girls. The other 700 are here because we are good at squeezing budgets. So, your help in this, 700 girls thank you for helping keep this school alive. Any questions?" None. "Nooria, over here."
She leads me outside, "no easy way to say this. Forget a short interview, that's for the others. You're the star of the show, 3 1/2 or 4 days."
"Why ma'am?"
"Rest did it easy, 10,000 foot elevation and such. You, way above the oxygen line. You defy every medical calculation on every chart. You'd need some 6,000 calories a day, equivalent to British Army Arctic survival rations. Mathematically, she should be dead a dozen times over. Yet here you are, physically healthy, and an awful lot more sane than many of the members here. So they intend to focus on you."
I feel numb, wish I could crawl into a corner and die.
"Cheer up, same rules. Can't ask you gruesome questions. It's just they'll spend a lot longer on your current state. Things like your relationships with the sgt's and teachers."
"Oh."
"You aren't just doing us a favor, getting equipment. Your help could end up saving a lot of British lives in an emergency."
I groan inwardly, but what can you say?
"You see Nooria, you really are a very unusual person. Seems a lot more destiny swirls around you than the rest here. As if God has a specific file with your name on it."
That is supposed to cheer me up? "Ma'am, do they get my counselling file here?"
"No, they ask their own questions, make their own diagnosis."
Thank heaven for small favors.

The medical is far more thorough than in Canada. But exactly as our doctor stated.
They are both polite, friendly. One has a girl my age, other has one a year older. They show me photos, tell me of their daughters.
As we get down to business, one says, "we decided to skip the embarassment of asking you the 2 hard questions. So, AAW simply provided us with a list of the dates you were involved." Gentle smile, "now you, you simply defy every medical odd. One thing we often run into, with such people, is a very strong religious background. Some overpowering belief in God which keeps them moving more than the others. So, how do you see yourself in relation to the other B14 girls? More religious? The same?"
"Ma'am, I would be the least religious of the lot."
Smile, "right, now let's look at your relationships. I understand you and the sgt's here get on well. Tell me more about that."
"Ma'am, there is this sgt Amina, she and I go on the same patrol and ...."
"I see, so things are like a mother-daughter relationship?"
"Yes ma'am."
It goes on, everything from officer cadet meetings to Parvana's jokes on patrol to Shauzia's job of suicide watch to playing the swinging gay cavalier in Dari class. I like these people, kind, patient. The nurse never finds it necessary to intervene.
They laugh over things like my 2 visits to the CO's office. "How very like the British Army!"
They give several written exams.
After 4 days, one sums up, "defies every medical rule in the book that you are alive. Further, your ordeal of all this unpleasantness was thrice as long as anyone else. Further, as the most recent arrival here, you've had less time to recover. You are doing great, far better than anyone could ever expect. I mean, except for the Asperger Syndrome. You ah have been informed of that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"That you carry for life. Everything else, going well." Mock serious look, "now you tell me. How am I going to go back, try and tell my CO of things like lottery ticket odds?"
A line from the sgt's comes to mind, "ma'am, with all due respect, that's what you get the big money for."
Loud mock groan, "I'm not exactly sure how we'll handle it. There are probably all of 3 people in the whole British Army with as much aplomb as you."
"Ma'am, your soldiers can say anything they like. It's not till you have to do it, that you'll know. Now my guess, 9/10 of them could do it, if their backs were really against the wall. God willing, they'll never have to find out for real."
"We're not allowed to ask any questions of your past. But maybe one item. That is a very Canadian accent. Did you have English instruction somewhere else before here?"
"Yes ma'am, teacher was Canadian."
"Amazing, you have more ability to mimic than anyone here."
I leave with a sadness. We became friends during the journey.

MP sgt grins, "lemme guess. Rubber hose? Third degree? Like the Gestapo? KGB?"
"Not even close. Friendly, polite, classy. Went out of their way, way out of their way, to spare me pain, embarassment."
Now me, I'm the only one the Brits had spotted who had already dealt with the counselling issue. They provided our counsellor here with a list of names and possible issues.

Their farewell was pure kindness, a pizza party. They went into the kitchen, made pizza, taught one of the cooks in the process. The doctors, nurse and all B14 girls attended.
I was nearby, overheard our nurse ask, "the girls, well-behaved? I mean, compared to your usual patients."
Both laughed. The reply, "the average British soldier is deathly afraid of giving hair samples. Can spot drug abuse over time. As for interviews, most of ours would rather wrestle a grizzly bear than talk of feelings and such. Your girls were open, helpful, cooperative."
I see relief on the nurse. Obviously been under conflicting pressures. One, make the doctors toe the line. Two, don't offend them while doing it.
Doctor smiles, "you ever do hair samples on your members?"
Drily the nurse replies, "we are understaffed, no time for that. Besides, I'm not sure we'd like the results."
"Ah yes, I suppose some things transcend borders, cultures. Some things are almost universal to the human condition."
Nurse, "so I've thought."

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 17

Friday being lousy weather, I give Shauzia another English lesson. As always, the crowd gathers. As we take a break, Nabila asks, "wanna be an English teacher when you grow up?"
"No, had my heart set on being a technician."
"You prefer patrolling? I mean, compared to being in camp."
"Yeah, feel alive out there, fresh air, wind, sometimes sun, magnificent ocean, terrain so ugly it's beautiful. Here, ok but lacks any zing."
"Yeah, I hear you. Very artificial. Still, think about schools back home. Kids lose time for lots of reasons: family trouble, weather, no bus fare, work in field or shop, daughter forbidden to go. Here, they boast of 99.7% attendance. No wonder it gets such good results, an education greenhouse."
"Good analogy. Ever think of being a writer?"
"Yes, like to write anything that helps people. Health, political, even fiction. Now take yourself for example. Want proof of the power of the press? After the donation story, donations as a whole went way up. People see a ten-year-old girl drop in all she has, they think, donate more themselves. So, you and the story writer are both heroes."
"Left lotsa egg on the CO's face."
"Part of the catch. Humor gives a story more punch. They laughed at her, but still donated more."
"You gonna write in English or Dari?"
"Both, that's why I like listening to you, good example in English."
"Thanks."
"You don't mind we all listen in?"
"Actually feel proud. You gonna write for the AAW newsletter?"
"Freedom of the press is sadly lacking here, like Albania before the thaw. Still, if it's here or nowhere, I'd write here. Things change slowly over time."
"I certainly wish you the best of luck."
"Funny, your face rings a bell, bigtime. Like a mirage in the desert, never get there. And first day you arrived, I saw the recognition wash all over your face. So?"
"Long story, take days in the telling, some other time."
"Just one hint."
"The number 83 mean anything to you?"
She gasps as the recognition comes, lowers her voice, "Poland, Hungary, Yugoslavia. Those were the days. Our convoys rolled, the very earth shook. Now look at us."
"Considering everything we did, we got off easy. Think leprosy colony in Bangladesh or untouchable sweeping the road in India."
"Yeah, guess we did ok. Ironic, you led the way playing bad; now, gotta lead playing good."
"Hindus call it the circle of life."
"As I recall, you were the sane one. Pulled people back from the ragged edge of insanity. Some of the people, some of the time. Without you, woulda been a lot more sinful. Guess I owe you. Like a little help with Dari composition?"
"Your kind offer is cheerfully and gratefully accepted. I am weak."
"Yeah Nooria, once you're an officer, lotsa paper, gotta at least be able to spell."
"Or have a sgt who does."
"No such thing, no sgt anywhere who can spell. On your own. So, get to work. Page 17 ..."
And so it was Nabila and I started as friends.

Dari teacher starts, "now here's how writing should be. Nabila, read your story to the class."
It's funny, yet touching. On the gay teahouse crowd in Kandahar. Characters are alive, setting good, way beyond anything I could do. I thank the fates Nabila is my friend. If even 1/10 of that talent rubs off, I'll be a better person.
There's loud applause as she's done.
Teacher smiles, "Shauzia, Bobogal, Fereshta, Nooria, front and center. Now you 4 are distinguished by too much repression in your writing. Isn't just grammar and spelling. Got to loosen up a bit, put some of yourself in your writing. Now take these scripts, you're playing actors in Nabila's story."
I gasp, "ma'am, you mean now?"
"Sure, improv is good for you. Shauzia, sit there. Nooria, on her knee. Fereshta, that chair. Bobogal, on her knee. Come on, move, it's show time."
I doubt if I've ever blushed more. Still we do get laughter and applause.
Story over, teacher says, "truth is Nooria's was the worst of the lot. Really needs to loosen up. And rest of you, wipe those superior smirks, you aren't far ahead of her."

As we exit Fereshta jokes, "I been cheated. Shoulda been Nooria on my knee, not Bobogal."
Shauzia laughs, "we were playing men, you remember?"
"Oh, forgot. Wonder what the gays would say bout us?"
"Not a thing. Too busy with their own stuff. Hafta wonder though, if God made a mistake. The whole man-woman thing is so ridiculous."
"Nooria, you's awful quiet. Your take."
"Yeah, gotta be a better way. Eggs or laboratory or such. Whole man-woman thing is stupid."
"But then, there's already way too many people in the world. World could stand a few years of no kids."
"Yeah, but everything is habit. Once people got the extra money for dope or travel or scooters, maybe they never have kids again. Maybe whole human race dies out."
"You make that sound like a bad thing. And you Nooria, awful quiet again."
"Human race will hafta go on without me. I don't plan to contribute."
"For every one of you, there's also a guy with 2 wives and 14 children. You won't be missed."

Thursday morning, MP sgt slides in next to Amina and me, "our illustrious CO has 2 options. If she proclaims parking to be CO's orders, can do it anytime. Drawback, her successor can cancel or amend at will. If she goes for a bylaw, hasta go through the HQ Bylaw Committee. Advantage, it stays valid until Committee itself repeals it. Understand so far?"
I nod.
"Well, on its way, HQ."
I grin, "meaning, lucky if it gets looked at in a year, let alone actioned."
"Amazing how you grasp these things. Such a contrast you are Nooria. Some things, so wise, so savvy, so grownup. Others, so naive, so little-girl."
"Sarge, could say the same about every 10-y-o on earth."
"Yes you could. But you take it to more extremes than any others I've seen."
Amina shrugs, "into our world of insanity, more comes. Think school experiment, the electromagnet and iron filings. HQ, the electromagnet. Ordinary garden-variety loons, the iron filings. But don't be disappointed Nooria. I'm sure the Foreign Legion is just as crackers."
I assert, "sure hope so. Don't do boring well."
MP sgt grins, "I'm guessing they're more so. More money to splash around."

The B14 door opens. Arifa calls, "girls, everyone stand." It's the CO and doctor, a Captain.
CO asks, "anyone here heard of the Special Air Service Survival Manual? Publication of the British forces. Two versions, internal only and external one, for sale to the public."
I have, but would rather not say. CO and I seem to have a star-crossed relationship.
Nabila the aspiring writer is more bold, "ma'am I have."
"Good, what have you heard of it?"
"Ma'am, say it's most complete, best in the world."
"That seems to be the consensus. How did you hear of it?"
"Ma'am, friend back home, her uncle was in the British Army."
"What group, specialty?"
"1 Para, ma'am, that's First Battalion, Parachute Regiment."
"This para. An Afghan in the British Army? Or a Brit who married an Afghan girl?"
"British, ma'am."
"So what did he say of the contents of it?"
"Ma'am, said stuff in there so bad, lots of guys would rather die than do it."
"Doesn't that seem odd? Why not go all the way, do anything to survive? Isn't it a basic human instinct?"
"Ma'am, maybe addiction, troubled relationships. Maybe feeling outcast compared to mainline British society. Yet being sort of Christian, can't actually commit suicide. In the gray zone, where people get to choose."
"Right. Everyone here who feels they're better off than the British Army, raise your hand."
Not one hand.
"Everyone who believes they're worse off than the British Army, raise your hand."
Forest of hands, everyone, including Arifa.
CO smiles gently, "now there is a contradiction that defies logic. These better-off people set all sorts of limits. They'll do this but not that. Yet every girl here went all the way, right out to the ultimate taboo. So, that means the girls in B14 are a tougher lot than the guys in 1 Para."
I see huge smiles all around.

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 17

Friday brings lousy weather, so I give Shauzia another English lesson. As always, it's communal, as the crowd gathers. They admit they hear better English from me than the teacher.
As we take a break, one of the girls Nabila asks, "want to be an English teacher when you grow up?"
"No, sort of had my heart set on technician."
"So, you prefer patrolling? I mean compared to being around camp."
"Yeah, feel alive out there, fresh air, wind, sometimes sun, magnificent ocean, stupendous cliffs, terrain so ugly it's beautiful. Here, lacks any zing, life."
"Yeah, I hear you. Very artificial. Still, back home kids miss class for lots of reasons: family trouble, weather, work in field farm or shop, weather, or father forbids the daughter to go. Here they brag of 99.7% attendance, and they're probably correct. No wonder this camp does so well in education, an education greenhouse."
"Good analogy, ever think of being a writer?"
"God willing, I'd like to write for a magazine."
"What sort of stories?"
"Anything that helps people in any way. Health issues, politics, even fiction."
"Sounds like a good idea."
"Take yourself for example. Want proof of the power of the press? After the donation story, donations as a whole went way up. People see a tiny ten-year-old girl drop in all she has, they think, donate themselves. Makes you a hero and the writer of the story."
"Also left a lotta egg on the CO's face."
"Part of the catch. Humor gives a story more punch. They laugh at her, but still donate more."
"You wanna write in English or Dari?"
"Both, that's why I like listening to you. Good example. Do you mind when the group listens in, when you tutor Shauzia?"
"Actually, feel proud. So gonna write for the AAW newsletter?"
"Freedom of the press is sadly lacking here, like Albania before the thaw. Prefer a more open environment. Still, if it's here or nowhere, I'd write here. Lot can change over time. Never push any one issue too much, but can do a lot slowly."
"I certainly wish you the best of luck."
"Funny, your face rings a bell. Like a mirage in the desert, never get there. And you, I saw that flash of recognition when you saw me the first day. So?"
"Long story, take days in the telling, no privacy here."
"Just one hint."
"Number 83 mean anything to you?"
And then it comes, the wave of recognition on her face, she gasps, then whispers, "Poland, Hungary, Yugoslavia. Those were the days. Our convoys rolled, the very earth shook. Now look at us."
"Friend, considering everything we did, we got off easy. Think leprosy colony in Bangladesh or untouchable sweeping the road in India."
"Yeah, guess we did. Ironic, you led the way playing bad. Now gotta lead playing good."
"Hindus call that the circle of life."
"As I recall, you were the sane one. Pulled people back from the ragged edge of insanity. Some of the people, some of the time. Without you, things woulda been lots more sinful. Guess I owe you. Like some help with Dari compostion?"
I smile, "your kind offer is cheerfully and gratefully accepted. I'm a bit weak."
"Yeah, must be all that chipping up bodies, missed school. Once you're an officer, lotsa paper. Gotta at least be able to spell."
"Or have a sgt who does."
"No such thing, no sgt anywhere who can spell. So, let's get to work. Try page 17 ..."
And so it was, Nabila and I started as friends.

Dari teacher starts, "last story assigned, lotta you girls need help. Maybe talk with your friends a bit. Now here is how writing should be. Nabila, read your story to the class."
It's funny, yet touching, on the gay teahouse crowd in Kandahar. Characters alive, real, good setting, runs circles around anything I could do. I thank the fates Nabila is now my friend. If even 1/10 of her talent rubs off, I'll be a better person.
Loud applause as she is done.
Teacher smiles, "Shauzia, Bobogal, Fereshta, Nooria, front and center. Now you girls are distinguished by one trait, way too repressed. Isn't just spelling, grammar, punctuation. Gotta put yourself in the story, open up. Now, a practice to do just that. Takes these scripts. You're now all playing gay men in Nabila's story."
I gasp, "you mean, here and now, ma'am?"
"Sure, improv is good for you. Shauzia sit. Nooria, on her knee. Fereshta, that chair. Bobogal, on her knee. Well, roll em, girls, show time."
I don't think I've blushed more ever, but we get lotsa laughter and applause.
After it's over, teacher says, "Nooria, truth is, your writing was the worst. Now see what a little play-acting can do. Loosen you up. Next paper, take a chance, let those characters have a little fun."
"Yes ma'am."
"And you other 3, wipe those superior smirks. Your weren't far behind Nooria."

As we exit, Fereshta jokes, "I been cheated. Wish it was Nooria sitting on my lap and not Bobogal."
Shauzia laughs, "we were playing men you know."
"Wonder what the gay men would think of us?"
"Too busy with their own stuff to give a hoot in blazes."
"Gotta be a better way than the whole man-woman thing. Maybe God made a mistake. Nooria, you're awful quiet. Your view?"
"I agree, gotta be a better way. Eggs or laboratory or such. Whole man-woman thing is so ridiculous."
"But there's already too many people in the world. World could stand a few years of no kids."
"Yeah, but all is habit. Once people get used to money for dope or travel or scooters, maybe they never wanna have kids again. Human race may die out."
"You make that sound like a bad thing. Nooria, awful quiet again. Your take?"
"Human race will hafta go on without me. Don't plan to contribute."
"For every one of you, there's also a guy with 2 wives and 14 children. You won't be missed."

Early Thursday morning, MP sgt joins Amina and me. Huge smile, "our illustrious CO now has 2 options. If she proclaims CO orders, she can do it anytime. Drawback, only valid during her tenure in officer. Her successor is then free to cancel or change. But if she goes for a Bylaw, hasta go through the HQ Bylaw Committee. Advantage, it's in force til this same committee amends or cancels it. Understand so far?"
I nod.
"Well, it's on its way, HQ."
I grin, "meaning lucky if it gets looked at in a year, let alone actioned."
"Amazing how you grasp these things. Such a contrast you are Nooria. Some stuff so wise, so savvy, so grownup, other stuff so naive, so little girl."
"Sarge, you could say the same bout every 10-y-o on the planet."
"Yeah, but you take to more extremes than any others I've seen."
Amina shrugs, "into our little world of insanity, more comes. Think school experiment, electromagnet and iron filings. HQ is the electromagnet; ordinary members the iron filings. But don't be disappointed, Nooria, I'm sure the Foreign Legion is just as crackers."
"I sure hope so," I assert, "I don't do boring well."
MP sgt grins, "I guess they're more nuts. More money to splash around."

I hear the B14 door open. Arifa calls, "girls, everyone stand." It's the CO and doctor, a Captain.
CO asks, "anyone here ever heard of the Special Air Service Survival Manual? Publication by the British forces, 2 versions, internal one and external, available to the public."
I have, but would rather not say. CO and I seem to have a star-crossed relationship.
Nabila the aspring writer is more bold, "I have ma'am."
"Good, now what exactly have you heard of it?"
"Ma'am, they say it's best, most complete in the world."
"Seems to be the consensus. May I ask where you heard of it?"
"Friend back home, ma'am, her uncle was in the British Army."
"What group and specialty?"
"1 Para, ma'am, First Battalion, Parachute Regiment."
"This para, an Afghan in the British Army? Or a Brit who just happened to marry an Afghan?"
"He's British, ma'am."
"What exactly did this para say of the manual?"
"Ma'am, said stuff so bad in there lots of guys would rather die than do it."
"Doesn't that seem strange? Why not go all the way? Isn't survival a fundamental instinct?"
"Ma'am, any number of reasons. Addiction, troubled relationship. Envy, depressed they're sort of outcasts in British society. Yet being sort of Christian, they couldn't suicide. But this is the gray zone, where people decide."
"Everyone who believes they're better off than the British Army, raise your hand."
Not one hand.
"Everyone who believes they're worse off than the British Army, raise your hand."
Forest of hands, everyone, including Arifa.
CO smiles gently, "contradiction. All those better off people setting all kinds of limits. They'll do this and not that. Yet everyone here went all the way, right out to the ultimate limit. Guess the girls in B14 are tougher than the guys in 1 Para."
Huge smiles all around.

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 17

Friday brings lousy weather, so I give Shauzia another English lesson. As always, it's communal, as the crowd gathers. They admit they hear better English from me than the teacher.
As we take a break, one of the girls Nabila asks, "want to be an English teacher when you grow up?"
"No, sort of had my heart set on technician."
"So, you prefer patrolling? I mean compared to being around camp."
"Yeah, feel alive out there, fresh air, wind, sometimes sun, magnificent ocean, stupendous cliffs, terrain so ugly it's beautiful. Here, lacks any zing, life."
"Yeah, I hear you. Very artificial. Still, back home kids miss class for lots of reasons: family trouble, weather, work in field farm or shop, weather, or father forbids the daughter to go. Here they brag of 99.7% attendance, and they're probably correct. No wonder this camp does so well in education, an education greenhouse."
"Good analogy, ever think of being a writer?"
"God willing, I'd like to write for a magazine."
"What sort of stories?"
"Anything that helps people in any way. Health issues, politics, even fiction."
"Sounds like a good idea."
"Take yourself for example. Want proof of the power of the press? After the donation story, donations as a whole went way up. People see a tiny ten-year-old girl drop in all she has, they think, donate themselves. Makes you a hero and the writer of the story."
"Also left a lotta egg on the CO's face."
"Part of the catch. Humor gives a story more punch. They laugh at her, but still donate more."
"You wanna write in English or Dari?"
"Both, that's why I like listening to you. Good example. Do you mind when the group listens in, when you tutor Shauzia?"
"Actually, feel proud. So gonna write for the AAW newsletter?"
"Freedom of the press is sadly lacking here, like Albania before the thaw. Prefer a more open environment. Still, if it's here or nowhere, I'd write here. Lot can change over time. Never push any one issue too much, but can do a lot slowly."
"I certainly wish you the best of luck."
"Funny, your face rings a bell. Like a mirage in the desert, never get there. And you, I saw that flash of recognition when you saw me the first day. So?"
"Long story, take days in the telling, no privacy here."
"Just one hint."
"Number 83 mean anything to you?"
And then it comes, the wave of recognition on her face, she gasps, then whispers, "Poland, Hungary, Yugoslavia. Those were the days. Our convoys rolled, the very earth shook. Now look at us."
"Friend, considering everything we did, we got off easy. Think leprosy colony in Bangladesh or untouchable sweeping the road in India."
"Yeah, guess we did. Ironic, you led the way playing bad. Now gotta lead playing good."
"Hindus call that the circle of life."
"As I recall, you were the sane one. Pulled people back from the ragged edge of insanity. Some of the people, some of the time. Without you, things woulda been lots more sinful. Guess I owe you. Like some help with Dari compostion?"
I smile, "your kind offer is cheerfully and gratefully accepted. I'm a bit weak."
"Yeah, must be all that chipping up bodies, missed school. Once you're an officer, lotsa paper. Gotta at least be able to spell."
"Or have a sgt who does."
"No such thing, no sgt anywhere who can spell. So, let's get to work. Try page 17 ..."
And so it was, Nabila and I started as friends.

Dari teacher starts, "last story assigned, lotta you girls need help. Maybe talk with your friends a bit. Now here is how writing should be. Nabila, read your story to the class."
It's funny, yet touching, on the gay teahouse crowd in Kandahar. Characters alive, real, good setting, runs circles around anything I could do. I thank the fates Nabila is now my friend. If even 1/10 of her talent rubs off, I'll be a better person.
Loud applause as she is done.
Teacher smiles, "Shauzia, Bobogal, Fereshta, Nooria, front and center. Now you girls are distinguished by one trait, way too repressed. Isn't just spelling, grammar, punctuation. Gotta put yourself in the story, open up. Now, a practice to do just that. Takes these scripts. You're now all playing gay men in Nabila's story."
I gasp, "you mean, here and now, ma'am?"
"Sure, improv is good for you. Shauzia sit. Nooria, on her knee. Fereshta, that chair. Bobogal, on her knee. Well, roll em, girls, show time."
I don't think I've blushed more ever, but we get lotsa laughter and applause.
After it's over, teacher says, "Nooria, truth is, your writing was the worst. Now see what a little play-acting can do. Loosen you up. Next paper, take a chance, let those characters have a little fun."
"Yes ma'am."
"And you other 3, wipe those superior smirks. Your weren't far behind Nooria."

As we exit, Fereshta jokes, "I been cheated. Wish it was Nooria sitting on my lap and not Bobogal."
Shauzia laughs, "we were playing men you know."
"Wonder what the gay men would think of us?"
"Too busy with their own stuff to give a hoot in blazes."
"Gotta be a better way than the whole man-woman thing. Maybe God made a mistake. Nooria, you're awful quiet. Your view?"
"I agree, gotta be a better way. Eggs or laboratory or such. Whole man-woman thing is so ridiculous."
"But there's already too many people in the world. World could stand a few years of no kids."
"Yeah, but all is habit. Once people get used to money for dope or travel or scooters, maybe they never wanna have kids again. Human race may die out."
"You make that sound like a bad thing. Nooria, awful quiet again. Your take?"
"Human race will hafta go on without me. Don't plan to contribute."
"For every one of you, there's also a guy with 2 wives and 14 children. You won't be missed."

Early Thursday morning, MP sgt joins Amina and me. Huge smile, "our illustrious CO now has 2 options. If she proclaims CO orders, she can do it anytime. Drawback, only valid during her tenure in officer. Her successor is then free to cancel or change. But if she goes for a Bylaw, hasta go through the HQ Bylaw Committee. Advantage, it's in force til this same committee amends or cancels it. Understand so far?"
I nod.
"Well, it's on its way, HQ."
I grin, "meaning lucky if it gets looked at in a year, let alone actioned."
"Amazing how you grasp these things. Such a contrast you are Nooria. Some stuff so wise, so savvy, so grownup, other stuff so naive, so little girl."
"Sarge, you could say the same bout every 10-y-o on the planet."
"Yeah, but you take to more extremes than any others I've seen."
Amina shrugs, "into our little world of insanity, more comes. Think school experiment, electromagnet and iron filings. HQ is the electromagnet; ordinary members the iron filings. But don't be disappointed, Nooria, I'm sure the Foreign Legion is just as crackers."
"I sure hope so," I assert, "I don't do boring well."
MP sgt grins, "I guess they're more nuts. More money to splash around."

I hear the B14 door open. Arifa calls, "girls, everyone stand." It's the CO and doctor, a Captain.
CO asks, "anyone here ever heard of the Special Air Service Survival Manual? Publication by the British forces, 2 versions, internal one and external, available to the public."
I have, but would rather not say. CO and I seem to have a star-crossed relationship.
Nabila the aspring writer is more bold, "I have ma'am."
"Good, now what exactly have you heard of it?"
"Ma'am, they say it's best, most complete in the world."
"Seems to be the consensus. May I ask where you heard of it?"
"Friend back home, ma'am, her uncle was in the British Army."
"What group and specialty?"
"1 Para, ma'am, First Battalion, Parachute Regiment."
"This para, an Afghan in the British Army? Or a Brit who just happened to marry an Afghan?"
"He's British, ma'am."
"What exactly did this para say of the manual?"
"Ma'am, said stuff so bad in there lots of guys would rather die than do it."
"Doesn't that seem strange? Why not go all the way? Isn't survival a fundamental instinct?"
"Ma'am, any number of reasons. Addiction, troubled relationship. Envy, depressed they're sort of outcasts in British society. Yet being sort of Christian, they couldn't suicide. But this is the gray zone, where people decide."
"Everyone who believes they're better off than the British Army, raise your hand."
Not one hand.
"Everyone who believes they're worse off than the British Army, raise your hand."
Forest of hands, everyone, including Arifa.
CO smiles gently, "contradiction. All those better off people setting all kinds of limits. They'll do this and not that. Yet everyone here went all the way, right out to the ultimate limit. Guess the girls in B14 are tougher than the guys in 1 Para."
Huge smiles all around.

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 16

Shauzia tags along as I go to donate the 2 Rs. There's a half-dozen office clerks, lounging about, talking of dope and such, with piles of paper that look permanent.
Shyly I reach out, drop it in. Under her breath, Shauzia says, "hurry, let's go."
We've gone 2 steps when we hear a sgt-major voice, "stop, girls."
It's the 2-i-c, a Captain. Condescending look, "very generous. Now care to explain how you have money and no one else does."
Wordless, I pass her the card.
Her eyes light up, "you wait right here. Be just a minute." Returns with a camera. "I'm in charge of submitting newsletter articles, among other important functions. Now we're going to unlock that box, get a photo of you dropping the money in." We do.
"We'll submit the story, good example of generosity. Where are you from?"
"Wakhan Corridor, ma'am."
"So you're the girl in the newsletter? Whose life was saved?"
"Yes ma'am."
"One prize story. Generous, even gave all, your whole 2 Rs. How are studies going?"
"Good ma'am."
"I'll check your file. If marks are good, we'll print. If not, why bother? So overall, how do you like life here?"
"Ma'am, less exciting than I'm used to. But everyone is kind. Good experience so far."
And so it was, my photo and story ended up in the newsletter. And that's how my second trip to the CO's office came about.
She looks smoking hot furious, "sit." I do. "Now tell me about the newsletter story."
"Which one, ma'am?"
"The donation story. How did it happen?"
"Well you see ma'am, I got my 2 Rs in the envelope. Since there's nothing to buy in the tuck shop anyhow, I decided to donate."
"So why did you go looking for a story on it?"
"I didn't ma'am. Your 2-i-c came along, saw me donate, had the idea for the story."
CO groans aloud, "ok, not your fault. Dismiss."

I soon discover the source of her angst. The sgt's are chortling with wicked glee. "Now you see" the MP sgt says, "none of the girls here have any money at all. So if someone has exactly 2 Rs, everyone knows where it came from." More laughter. "This is like a Communist country. Everyone can read between the lines. So they know the 2 Rs was compensation. Gotta email from a friend in HQ. Huge joke there. Everyone laughing, how she charged a ten-year-old girl, had to back down. Rumor has it, she got probably 100 mocking emails."
Laughter ratchets up.
As we arrive at the motor pool, Zala hugs me, "can't call you a wimp. Made it there twice."
"How'd you know?"
"No secrets here. Immense joke. Everyone but everyone laughing at the CO, and you caused it."
"No I didn't. Her own 2-i-c did. By writing the story."
"You are way too modest. Without your donation, wouldn't have happened."

Break time, Parvana raises her mug in the air, "ladies, a toast. Doesn't happen often. Very few people walking the earth can do it. Among us is a giant. A person who can slay the mighty dragon, with nothing other than the sword of humor. To Nooria!"
Thunderous cheer, then "to Nooria!" and they drink.
Amina stands, "a toast. Among us is a rarity. Decent officer. Good example to young people. To Parvana!"
Parvana blushes, they drink.
I stand, "see, when I first got here, I was in pretty bad shape. Things are going a lot better, thanks to my friends. To everyone in this patrol!"
Nilofar laughs, "girls, y'all know who my girlfriend is. Her Majesty's secretary. I done heard she got over 300 emails on this."
Cheers, wolf howls.
Parvana grins, "nuff lollygag. Let's mount our trusty camels and cross the blazing Gobi desert. We'll seek out the fabled city of Ulan Bator, visit its legendary market."
Zala drawls, "yeah, done heard dope is cheaper there. We'll bring back 2 jeeploads."
Laughter, cheers.

Lt rises, passes the envelope to me.
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I haven't been here long enough that it's my turn."
"Oh but you don't understand. First meeting, everyone gets the envelope. After that, alphabetic rotation. Zamani was on last week, your turn Ahpay."
I open it, "you are a warlord. Good reputation compared to most, that is you forbid ethnic violence in your area and don't exact too much tax. Of late, you have come under a lot of pressure from the Hamid Karzai government. Disarm. You fear doing so, because of risk of ethnic violence springing up again. You don't want to seem uncooperative, or it could lead to trouble with the Americans, that is US Special Forces swooping in and disarming you. How do you proceed?"
"You invite the Karzai bigwigs to a feast. Lotsa food, even some booze, dancing girls. Boys will be boys. Soon you'll have incriminating photos. So, you let them save face. Symbolic disarmament. You know, tank beyond repair, old broken down AK47's. Naturally, they'll want to take their photos from a distance, so no one can see all they're destroying is your junkyard. So Hamid himself is happy, the Americans are happy, your people are happy. Just need the right optical illusion."
I see every thumb going up.
Lt grins, "no one can accuse you of lacking originality. Now the boring stuff."
Boos, catcalls.
"Now for your committee work. Fabricate a list of parking regulations. I mean right here, for this camp."
Tasmina gasps, "all we got is official vehicles, park in motor pool. Isn't like HQ with acres of scooters around."
"So assume a standard rate. Of 235 members, that would be say 180 scooters. Draw up regulations and map and agree on it."
"But there's nowhere to drive a scooter here."
"Aren't you missing something, Tasmina? Of course there isn't. Just like there isn't 500 Rs for repair nor 1,000 Rs for the library. Is a simulation, practice, show you how it works."
"Oh."
As is turns out, me being an ex-Saskatonian, I have a far better concept of parking than the rest. Agreement soon shifts to me.
As we hand it over, Lt shakes her head, "now I've seen it all. Someone from the Corridor who knows how to park; 2 Kabulis and 1 Kandahari who haven't a clue. Isn't that how it goes?"
As we walk back, Tasmina laughs, "parking here? Barking mad. Two thousand square kilometers, 4 vehicles and we need parking regs. On top of that, 1,000 miles from the nearest humans."
"Want my guess? Our illustrious CO will soon publish parking regs."
She gasps, "and now you're barking mad. Contagious disease."
"Not at all. Shows development. Not a backwater anymore. Puts Kerguelen on the map. Now it may be a while before we see any scooters, but hey why not?"
"You are deadly serious. You're not joking."
"Old trick. If you can't solve real problems, solve imaginary ones or possible future ones."
"You speak from such experience. You've done this, I mean in your past lifetime."

We don't have long to wait. Thursday morning the MP sgt slides in next to us, "totally insane! Mad as a hatter! Never guess what Her Majesty is up to."
"What?" Amina asks.
"She gave me a drawn map, list of parking regulations. Asked for my input. Here, show you." Digs it out, it's a photocopy but I can still recognize my own handwriting.
"Lemme see that," Amina gasps, "looks suspiciously like Nooria's writing."
"Go on. Nooria's in the doghouse after the donation story. Why would she ask Nooria to do it?"
"Yeah, guess you're right. But still, that's a child's hand, not an adult's."
"Seeing things you are."
"Oh yeah?" Amina asserts, "see her silly little grin. She's maybe 2 seconds from bursting into laughter."
I can't help it. Laugh till I get hiccups.
MP sgt looks at me quizzically, "no time now, you folks gotta roll. But suppertime, better share the story."

As we leave, Amina says, "don't tell the patrol. Don't even tell me. Don't want gossip to get going or the CO might hear, back off. Best to just tell the MP sgt."
"Yes mum."
"I suspect Nooria, another prime joke on the way. Don't wanna spoil it."

The MP sgt and I sit alone. I explain.
"Ok Nooria, one critical question. You think the CO knows who did the drawing? Or just sees it as a group effort?"
"Hard to say sarge. Depends how much Lt tells her."
MP grins, "in other words, she doesn't know. Officers mostly avoid her. Probably just sent a memo, attached please find sort of thing. This could be the best joke we've seen in ages. So, I'm gonna suggest a few minor improvements, pass it back to her."
I nod.
"You saw this coming. What a wicked sense of humor you've got, Nooria. Really hate it if you grow up, join the Legion. Become very attached to you."

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 15

A few days later, Arifa is reading the AAW newsletter. Yes the pay and newsletters arrived. "Well," she says, "girls, come take a look."
Everyone crowds around. "That's your picture," a girl says helpfully, "only you look funny in that dress."
Seems the Lt who found me got a minor decoration for saving my life. Ridiculous. But still, look at that terrible-looking mountain pass, maybe she did. I read the story through. Found in bad shape - hunger, cold, altitude sickness, hypothermia. Hallucinating, seeing a girl who wasn't there. Lt is quoted as hugely relieved I recovered properly in sick bay. Story goes on to say how I'm in the Kerguelen schooll, good marks, accepted as officer cadet. Last bit grabs me, Nooria Ahpay is last surviving member of a particular clan.
I see everyone's eyes on me, no one says a word, obviously expect me to. Quietly, "ran out of bodies to eat, you see. That's why I decided to join you people."
Sets off roars of laughter.
Arifa looks near to crying, "Nooria, you got even one ounce of sense, you thank God in your next prayer. Terrain like that, lottery odds they'd find you. You remember that, next time you're bored in a class, be glad you're alive to experience the boredom."
Shauzia wraps an arm round me, "leave her alone. Come on Nooria, a walk."
She's wise. Get me out before I'd cry. Would conflict with my image.
After we return, Arifa comes, quietly sits, "22,000 feet. That's 7,000 feet above the oxygen line. Figger that makes you one of the toughest people on the planet. Always the small ones who fool you."
Shauzia wraps an arm round me, "she's had enough for today, leave her alone."

Amina is direct as always, "saw the story, proof positive you got good lungs. Now don't go screwing them up with cigarettes or dope."
"Yes sarge."
Her wink then robs it of any offence. "So all these little 2,000 foot heights here. Where I'm afraid driving through. Must seem pretty tame to you."
"If I were scared sarge, I wouldn't go. No one forces me to go on patrol."
"So ah how'd you enjoy the paperwork?"
"Sarge, I made one heckuva mistake. When I got here, shoulda goofed off in class more. Too late now."
She leans closer, "something you don't know. You see, only times those clowns are working at it, that's when one of the little girls are there. Soon as she goes, party time. Not dope, other stuff."
"Such as?"
"You're too young to hear that. Last Thursday, we was just teasing you. Still, don't let the girls know I told you. Let em have a little fun."
I wink, "sure."
"Good. Now eat up. You ain't put on one ounce from that picture. Quit picking at your food."
"You're starting to sound like a mother."
"Since no one else is doing the job or did it properly in the past, it's become mine. Now eat."
"Yes, mum."
The MP sgt slides in next to uss. Huge grin, "nother good week. Her Majesty ate crow 8 times. Think she'd learn." Smiles at me, "got your compensation yet?"
"What's that, sarge?"
"Shoulda got an envelope with a cardboard card with file number and 2 Rs. You didn't?"
"No sarge."
"I'll check on it. Probably just the pay delay. Now see, it works like this. Let's say your sentence was one day KP. So you do it. Now as long as it's a valid sentence, end of story, you paid your debt to society as it were. But let's say you already did the day and it's cancelled after. They'd owe you a day's pay at private rank. For you, that'd be just the day. For a member, regular monthly salary plus the day. With me so far?"
I nod.
"Now what you suffered was not quantifiable, as in a day's pay. It was a loss of dignity. That is, suppose Arifa had invited you to the mess. You'd hafta tell her the story. In all cases where it's only a loss of dignity, compensation is 2 Rs. Now the really crazy part. See, tuckshop has nothing but cigarettes and you can't buy. Your 2 Rs will sit a good long time."
Howls of laughter as the irony of it all sinks in.
I smile, "well then, see I've heard you people donate to Malalia Hospital." That's the unit charity of choice for destitute women and girls.
Amina hugs me, turns to the others, "how bout that? Generous. First money here and she donates to those truly in need. Such a good girl."
I see bigtime approval on all the faces, it's like I've aced an exam.
"Come on," Amina insists, "our fearless leader will be champing at the bit, with dreams of driving to Patagonia."
"Isn't she a bit strange?"
"What a funny little girl you are. Everyone here is right strange. Least she's harmless."
As we load up, Nilofar grins, "lemme guess, way you follow her, soon be calling her mum."
I blush.
"Oh ho, I was right," puts a finger over her lips, "just our secret."
Parvana raises her fist in the air, "I hear there's gold in the Yukon. Gold! Gold! Gold! Let's go, too boring here."
People cheer and laugh as we climb aboard. We settle in for the ride. Nilofar says, "saw the newsletter story. You musta been carrying a horseshoe, a four-leaf clover and a rabbit's foot. Odds of living through that, just beyond calculating."
"Yeah."
"That all you can say? 'yeah.' How bout 'thank God I'm alive."
"Already said that."
"Wouldn't hurt to say it again. God does like his applause."
"Thank God I'm alive."
"There, not too hard. So how'd you like the paperwork?"
"There was silverfish. Crawling about. Eating all the paper in Parvana's cubicle. Smelled of mildew, the paper did."
Nilofar laughs, "go to some of the other cubicles. It's worse. Lotta them officers is year or more behind in paper."
"Ever been to the CO's office?"
Nilofar snorts and Zala and Amina burst into laughter.
Tone of mock outrage, Nilofar asserts, "little one is insulting me. Kid, anyone who's anyone is there at least twice a year. Else they call you a wimp."
"I'm sorry Nilofar."
"That's ok. Apology accepted. But ain't that a work of art? The Mount Everest of paper storms? Nah I lie, Commander-in-Chief in HQ would be Mount Everest. But the CO, probably like K2, the mountain."
Zala calls back, "Nooria, you gotta get to the CO's office one more time this year, or you're a wimp."
"Hey, I ain't even a member yet."
"Matters not. You good enough to patrol with us, you good enough to show the world you're alive, not some mousy little shadow."
Amina calls back, "don't listen to her. You listen to me. Be a good girl."
Nilofar guffaws, "ah lighten up, you ain't her mother."
"No, but I'm like her aunt. Now you smarten up, don't be leading the girl astray. Plenty of time for that after she's 17."
"Sorry sarge."
Amina turns, grins, "still, you gotta admire Nooria. Has a talent, land the bomb right on target. Did she ever smarten up that food server! And the rumor thing, work of art, too bad it was an accident. One of them stories people will tell for years."
Nilofar replies quietly, "so why is Nooria so different from the rest, sarge?"
Amina smiles gently, "now imagine Nilofar, you're 22,000 feet up in the air. You hack up bodies to stay alive. Half frozen, 3/4 starved, crawl through heavy snow. Others die, but not you, defy every odd there is. Now how you gonna view life after something like that? Everything seems flat, boring, meaningless. It's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I'd bet."
I reply, "counsellor said Asperger Syndrome, variant of autism."
Amina makes a face, "and she's a moron. Into the single label. Once she can hang a single label on someone, she stops. She never would think you could have both."
"So what do I do, sarge?"
"Exactly what you're doing, Nooria. Keep connecting with people. Much as you can. If you crawl off into a corner, you'll go insane. You see Nooria, you really didn't have long to live. One of those days, just so sick, so dizzy, you fall off a mountain. But now, you gotta stay alive with your friends."
I ponder that a bit. Not one minute to myself since I got here. Maybe these people do know what they're doing.

Dark Chronicles of Nooria 14

Lt continues, "ok class, time for committee work."
Everyone groans, including me.
"Now you see HQ has generously allowed 1,000 Rs to purchase library books. Here's a list of what's available, come to agreement."
The group splits into 2 factions, fiction and non-fiction. After a vigorous show of debate, they cheerfully agree to a 50/50 split.
Lt has the last word, "now listen up. I know nobody likes committee work." Boos, catcalls. "But suck it up. You grow up, you'll do lots of this. Endless debate on how best to use tiny resources. Higher your rank, more time you'll spend in meetings just like this. Won't die of the boredom, it'll just feel that way."
As we walk back, Tasmina grins, "you were well-behaved, considering it's full moon."
"Hormonal problems, wolf fur didn't come this time. Don't you see what they're doing, Tasmina? Comparison and contrast. One totalitarian decision making and then one committee one. They're aiming to teach you to find the right balance, partway between."
She looks at me suspiciously, "so, there is a point in all this? No one else spotted it."
"See committee work can get carried to extremes, ponderous waste of time. Dictatorship only works well in extreme emergency, other than that, falls prey to blind spots, blunders. Der Fuhrer losing half million men at Stalingrad is your classic example of that. You want balance."
"Something bout you. Know way too much for a mere reader of history. You're now speaking from experience, right?"
"Yeah."
"Where? Germany as I guess?"
"Yeah."
"Jokes on you Nooria. Gotta do the same nonsense all over again."
"And just how do you know you aren't in the same boat?"
She gasps, "you ah recognize me?"
"Sure."
"Do tell."
"Some other time. Long story, take days in the telling."
"Recognize anyone else in the OC meeting, Nooria?"
"The Lt and one other girl."
She laughs wickedly, "the Lt? Hot stuff. Now I know why she's so nuts."
"Everyone here is nuts. Why would Lt be any different?"
"One giant insane asylum, inmates run the place."

Shauzia grins, "how'd it go?"
"We visited Leningrad during the Siege. Then debated library purchases."
"Which was more fun?"
"Leningrad."
"Which side were you?"
"Soviets."
"Sure don't sound like fun to me. Look Nooria, I'm real sorry I freaked last time. See now I've heard lotsa talk round the members mess now. Bit of an idea how crazy it is for officers. Am I forgiven?"
"Hey, it was a flash in the pan. Nothing. Forget it. We're still friends."
"Thanks."

I get a letter, jointly signed by CO and MP sgt. Following a review of company punishment, an error in jurisprudence has been found. Since I was unaware, unnotified of being officer cadet, I cannot be expected to adhere to OC standards of conduct. The one day suspension is stricken from my file.
Thursday morning, I see that same food server. Funny, thought she was still in back, KP.
She grins, "so got your letter? Cancelled the company punishment?"
"Yeah."
It's uncrowded at this hour, no one up and about unless necessary, ie patrol.
She continues, "gotta letter too. Had to cancel mine too."
"How is that?"
Huge smirk, "see 2 errors, found by the MP sgt. I was charged with starting a false rumor which causes demoralization. I didn't start it, you did. And when they didn't meet payday, then it ain't false rumor any more, just news."
We both laugh.
She punches my arm lightly, "MP sgt just loves doing that. CO ends with lotsa egg on her face, hasta cancel maybe a third of em. And me, owe me bonus for KP time. So, no hard feelings, you and me is friends." Appraising look, "you seem lot smarter than the rest of that OC crowd. How'd you get dragged into that crap? Volunteer?"
"Only found out my name was in it, when I was in the CO's office."
"Be it on your own head, kid. Wanna grow up, work 12 hours a day with all that red tape? You should aim to be a sgt. After all, sgt makes same pay as Captain and at least can smoke dope."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Better run kid. That sarge friend of yours is throwing me dirty looks, like she's jealous."
Amina sniffs, "shouldn't hang out with riffraff. Got your reputation as OC to consider."
"Is it not wise for an officer to get input from all? She was talking, I was learning."
"Right, but keep it so. Brief. Don't get too chummy. Next thing you'd be smoking dope."
"I can't afford any."
"Matters not. They like you, they give you some, so watch out."
By now, I can clearly see the disease, communicationus lackus thereof. Officers have their own little cult, sgt's theirs, other ranks theirs. Messages either don't pass at all or in garbled fashion.
MP sgt slides in next to us. Looking out over her huge mountain of food, she flashes an ear-to-ear grin, "so Nooria, got your letter?"
"Oh yes, sarge."
"Cool, that's a dozen she had to back down on this week. Teach her a lesson. If she had one ounce of sense, she'd check the legalese with me first. But oh no, stubborn as they get. Sees herself a modernday Captain Bligh."
Everyone laughs.
MP sgt continues, "so Nooria, they's torturing you with boredom in those weekly meetings?"
"Last time I checked sarge, Geneva Convention doesn't list boredom as one of the prohibited tortures."
Howls of laughter.
"So, lemme guess, they ran you through that silly Nazi script. Tell us how it went."
I do, see looks of awe all around.
"Well now," Amina says cheerfully, "you take the cake. Nobody ever shoots from the hip that well."
Out on patrol, I'm a celebrity. Everyone wants to hear of my recent encounter with the justice system. I give and tell them what happened in the food server's case.
After much ooh and ah, they want the script from the OC meeting.
After my stories are told, I'm back to just being me. I curl up with Amina as she scans with binoculars. Yeah, maybe she was a bit sharp at me this morning, but all that stuff passes. Just her way of saying she cares, is looking out for me.
Parvana squats next to us, "Nooria, time for a chat." Don't you just hate it when grownups talk like that?
"Now you see Nooria, everything has changed. Used to be just party time, go for a ride with girls, have fun. Now you're an OC, changes it all. Gotta see what we do. Learn bout paperwork and such. Tonight after supper, you and me, we do the paper for this patrol."
I look at her blankly, oh no, it's starting already.
She ruffles my hair, "come on Nooria, I'm not being unkind. If I wanted to be a real stickler, I'd have you come with me everytime. But I talked with Amina. She feels the sgt's are a good influence on you, wouldn't want you to miss out on that. So we agreed, every third week, you do paper with me. Other 2, you can stay, talk with your friends in the mess."
I'm surprised to see how many are there. See it's Thursday night, that's equivalent to Saturday night back in Canada. A dozen or more, chipping away. Two are quietly arguing, low enough not to disturb others. One Lt is showing stuff to another OC girl. The rest, just schlumping away on paper.
The other girl rolls her eyes at me and it's hard not to laugh. I wink back.
Definitely Parvana isn't being unkind. She and I are first to leave. Generous soul that she is, she walks me back to members mess, where I am warmly welcomed by the gang.
Amina grins, "so the vampire drew first blood? Get used to it."
"Can one resign as OC?"
"Anytime you like. Next morning, they tie you to a post, shoot you."
Sgt's all roar with laughter.
Amina grins, "Nooria my friend, ever heard the word 'cult'? Once in, never out. Just so."
"Oh."
"But it ain't all bad. They do get 10 Rs a month extra as paperwork allowance."
Everyone laughs.
"And since you won't be buying dope, only take 15 or 2o years to save enough for a motor scooter. By then, you'd be too old to ride it. Or too fat. Or both."
Loud howls of laughter.