the_taliban_shuffle_-_kim_barker

More documents

Recommendations

Info

up plates lled with various lukewarm curries. One Camel told me vague generalities about drugs and corruption across the border. He leaned forward and whispered, as did his translator. At the end of our lunch, we stood up to leave. He muttered something; I asked the translator what he said. “ISI,” she said with a shrug. “My spies,” One Camel said, smirking and nodding at three men sporting mustaches and wearing crisp cream-colored salwar kameezes at a table near the entrance to the restaurant. “What do you mean?” I said. “My spies. They follow me.” I started laughing. “Seriously?” “I go, they go.” Sure enough, as soon as we walked out of the grand lobby of the Serena, the men stood up and walked out. Of course the ISI, Pakistan’s premier intelligence agency, would want to pay attention to an Afghan political ocer, just like it paid attention to Indian diplomats and various journalists. The ISI was not like the CIA—not exactly. It expended most of its resources inside Pakistan, and its operatives were really, really obvious and occasionally too close with Islamic militants like the Taliban. “Bye,” I told One Camel. “Good luck with your spies.” Ever watchful for me, Samad pulled up in his fancy new car. I told him to stop at the Marriott Hotel so I could pick up my dry cleaning. I ran inside, handed over a stful of rupees, grabbed my freshly cleaned Islamic gear, and walked outside. A man in a cream-colored salwar kameez stood outside Samad’s door, showing him something, bending over to talk to him. I hustled across the street. Samad said something. The man looked up, saw me, and walked away quickly. “Who was that?” I asked. “ISI.” “Seriously?” “Problem, Kim. Man come up, say ISI, hand me ISI card. He say, ‘Who is boss?’ ” “What did you say?” “You know. I say, ‘I’m a small boy, no read, no understand, I don’t know she. My boss send to Serena to pick she up, I pick up. I don’t
know she. My boss send to Serena to pick she up, I pick up. I don’t know she.’ ” “Good work.” That was always Samad’s act, whenever the ISI asked about me. At least, that’s what Samad said he told the ISI. How could I know for sure? My gut trusted Samad, but I didn’t really understand the ins and outs, all the levels to this Pakistan fun house. Tammy said Samad seemed trustworthy, but given all the double games being played here, given how many times my gut had been wrong, how many times I had been played, how many times other friends had been played, I had no idea if Samad was telling the truth. Part of the reason I had hired Samad in the rst place was that he didn’t work at the Serena or the Marriott—both of which were known for hiring sta members who made extra money by informing to the ISI. He also came recommended by a Pakistani journalist friend—but again, some Pakistani journalists played for the ISI team. The ISI was everywhere, in newspapers, TV, shopping malls, hotels, and most denitely lurking inside our cell phones. A few months earlier I had tried to report on a suicide attack at an ISI oce in Rawalpindi. But whenever we tried to talk to anyone, someone else showed up, telling us to leave, shoving us back, refusing to show any identication. The busybodies pulled people away midinterview and threatened to arrest them—and us. When we left Rawalpindi, a car of spooks tailed us to Islamabad, until we made a few quick turns. So on this afternoon, I looked at Samad. “Let’s see if they follow us.” We pulled out of the parking lot and drove in the direction of my house. A white car followed. Samad turned right. The car followed. Samad turned left. The car followed. These guys were hardly sophisticated. Being followed by the ISI in Pakistan felt like being chased by the Keystone Cops, like the Mad magazine cartoon Spy vs. Spy. I would like to say the song from Mission Impossible played in my head, but it was more like “Mahna Mahna” from The Muppet Show. It certainly didn’t feel serious. After one too many turns, I decided I had enough. “Pull over,” I told Samad.
Page 3 and 4:
Copyright © 2011 by Kim Barker The
Page 5 and 6:
Cover Title Page Copyright Dedicati
Page 10 and 11:
KABUL
Page 12 and 13:
CHAPTER 1
Page 14 and 15:
enough to make it into my newspaper
Page 16 and 17:
championship game. Like everyone el
Page 18 and 19:
grueling way we came, seven hours,
Page 20 and 21:
nothing like the Taliban. But they
Page 22 and 23:
clear sign I was a foreigner, we dr
Page 24 and 25:
I CHAPTER 2 MONTANA ew home to Chic
Page 26 and 27:
nancial ruin. I cobbled together re
Page 28 and 29:
city of about three or four million
Page 30 and 31:
one is supposed to be happy at an A
Page 32 and 33:
CHAPTER 3
Page 34 and 35:
can work with someone who says bad
Page 36 and 37:
thrown at their palace compound. I
Page 38 and 39:
confused with the recently opened A
Page 40 and 41:
smiled, even when talking about tra
Page 42 and 43:
convinced Ismail Khan to abandon He
Page 44 and 45:
CHAPTER 4 THERE GOES MY GUN D espit
Page 46 and 47:
U.S. troops were killed in the ghti
Page 48 and 49:
John Wilson. And always, their miss
Page 50 and 51:
I knew this from Afghans—they fea
Page 52 and 53:
A boy poured the sweet milky tea fr
Page 54 and 55:
watch me take notes. In return, I w
Page 56 and 57:
I CHAPTER 5 ONE WAY OR ANOTHER n Ka
Page 58 and 59:
We said goodbye to the taxi driver
Page 60 and 61:
Nasir looked at me, as if I had any
Page 62 and 63:
“They want money,” Farouq told
Page 64 and 65:
CHAPTER 6
Page 66 and 67:
Warlords then took positions outsid
Page 68 and 69:
three pigs were elsewhere at the ti
Page 70 and 71:
me back and all was forgiven, espec
Page 72 and 73:
Sean, the British journalist who wa
Page 74 and 75:
eversed one of its only decisions t
Page 76 and 77:
I CHAPTER 7 MONKEY GONE TO HEAVEN l
Page 78 and 79:
oy. But now it was too cold for suc
Page 80 and 81:
pressure cooker, going from home to
Page 82 and 83:
Kabul High. One night, as I sat wit
Page 84 and 85:
force, maybe two to three thousand
Page 86 and 87:
CHAPTER 8
Page 88 and 89:
landed rst in Pakistan, then the Un
Page 90 and 91:
Indian capital’s dingy airport be
Page 92 and 93:
laid out carpets in the dirt for us
Page 94 and 95:
simply lming a documentary on the h
Page 96 and 97:
sleep early. At 3 AM, my phone star
Page 98 and 99:
CHAPTER 9
Page 100 and 101:
neighborhood of Shir Pur, where the
Page 102 and 103:
“Sami thinks he’s got a way to
Page 104 and 105:
seemed adamant about returning norm
Page 106 and 107:
for everything. In short, he needed
Page 108 and 109:
apart, and entire chunks had crumbl
Page 110 and 111:
years, no one will recognize you li
Page 112 and 113:
1980s, they had been reluctant to l
Page 114 and 115:
mysteriously end up dead. We soon d
Page 116 and 117:
CHAPTER 10 HELL YES S ure, Operatio
Page 118 and 119:
this to be the best embed possible.
Page 120 and 121:
out two large guns on the side of t
Page 122 and 123:
so thin, they had no time to worry
Page 124 and 125:
screen, we watched the bomb hit, se
Page 126 and 127:
CHAPTER 11
Page 128 and 129:
would be the rst to have sex outsid
Page 130 and 131:
Alaska if you were a woman—the od
Page 132 and 133:
omber had hit a U.S. military convo
Page 134 and 135:
I could do, and I had to work. This
Page 136 and 137:
in Kabul. The Fun House would soon
Page 138 and 139:
CHAPTER 12 BARELY LEGAL M y eccentr
Page 140 and 141:
good rule of thumb for most Afghan
Page 142 and 143:
“He thinks you love him,” she s
Page 144 and 145:
everyone talked about, the example
Page 146 and 147:
“My idea is this,” I told the N
Page 148 and 149:
PART II WHACK- A-STAN
Page 150 and 151:
CHAPTER 13 UNDER PRESSURE T housand
Page 152 and 153:
and West Pakistan, nearly a million
Page 154 and 155:
ght. Throughout the 1980s, the Unit
Page 156 and 157:
seizing power almost eight years ea
Page 158 and 159: moving much at all. The team’s to
Page 160 and 161: whenever we hit a town, or even an
Page 162 and 163: CHAPTER 14
Page 164 and 165: were killed. One head cleric, who h
Page 166 and 167: Samad called me “boss.” Often h
Page 168 and 169: platform just above the driver, we
Page 170 and 171: abbit hole I had fallen, I saw it a
Page 174 and 175: frantically called people in Pakist
Page 176 and 177: lown up near the local ISI office.
Page 178 and 179: deep-fried packets, and sweet milky
Page 180 and 181: cell phones—but each was close to
Page 182 and 183: spontaneous outpouring of grief, no
Page 186 and 187: power and allowed the plane to land
Page 188 and 189: nally told me, referring to Sharif
Page 190 and 191: “Yes, Mian Sahib’s schedule is
Page 192 and 193: “That was bad planning,” Sharif
Page 194 and 195: I snapped a photograph with my Blac
Page 196 and 197: CHAPTER 17 LUCKY STAR B uried by th
Page 198 and 199: the south weren’t allowed to work
Page 200 and 201: audience, who booed Lima. Some of t
Page 202 and 203: something. It’s very sensitive.
Page 204 and 205: Only then would I learn that everyo
Page 206 and 207: CHAPTER 18 SUSPICIOUS MINDS M y new
Page 210 and 211: “Pull over,” I told Samad. We s
Page 212 and 213: kidnapped.” I felt ill. As far as
Page 214 and 215: handed me the keys. “We’re hiri
Page 216 and 217: CHAPTER 19 REBEL, REBEL S omething
Page 218 and 219: “What the hell?” I asked myself
Page 220 and 221: a very poor job keeping current pla
Page 222 and 223: minutes than we did in six hours.
Page 224 and 225: “All my ex-boyfriends? There’s
Page 226 and 227: I CHAPTER 20 WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIE
Page 228 and 229: President Pervez Musharraf, who had
Page 230 and 231: directionless as a headless chicken
Page 232 and 233: “Lady, give me your CV. CV,” he
Page 234 and 235: I had no idea who sent the message.
Page 236 and 237: CHAPTER 21 LONDON CALLING A fter na
Page 238 and 239: ad economy, the war, the Pakistani
Page 240 and 241: shook Nawaz’s hand—he had soft
Page 242 and 243: “BlackBerry, Nokia, or iPhone, Ki
Page 244 and 245: CHAPTER 22 DEADBEAT CLUB A s soon a
Page 246 and 247: ut it had always been Silver Fox pr
Page 248 and 249: probably killers. “Farouq?” I s
Page 250 and 251: the deal, reporting that the video
Page 254 and 255: eturned from Pakistan. He hadn’t
Page 256 and 257: against temptation” but with thes
Page 258 and 259:
“I can’t take it.” “Why not
Page 260 and 261:
cassettes (DVs). The mayor called u
Page 262 and 263:
CHAPTER 24
Page 264 and 265:
Farouq, helping the New York Times
Page 266 and 267:
world believed the country was abou
Page 268 and 269:
Why did I want to stay so much, in
Page 270 and 271:
CHAPTER 25
Page 272 and 273:
time seeing Afghans as the other. T
Page 274 and 275:
turn to the right,” the first lie
Page 276 and 277:
And then, in another nine months, t
Page 278 and 279:
police riding tractors that ripped
Page 280 and 281:
I CHAPTER 26 WHEN THE MAN COMES ARO
Page 282 and 283:
actually might win. For the past tw
Page 284 and 285:
Farouq had told me how he would pol
Page 286 and 287:
and without telling my bosses. And
Page 288 and 289:
CHAPTER 27 HOTEL CALIFORNIA U nempl
Page 290 and 291:
paying my salary. Many diplomats ra
Page 292 and 293:
wrappers. After the usual deep-tiss
Page 294 and 295:
heavy makeup, $70,000 worth of gold
Page 296 and 297:
to do here. Karzai would eventually
Page 298 and 299:
the air. For hours we danced, that
Page 300 and 301:
EPILOGUE
Page 302 and 303:
Helmand district of Marja ended up
Page 304 and 305:
Taliban’s clutches in Pakistan.
Page 306 and 307:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Page 308 and 309:
my absurd vision. I’m indebted to
show all

the_taliban_shuffle_-_kim_barker

Create successful ePaper yourself

Delete template?

Save as template?