We have a
new normal living overseas. After four years in Central Asia, we take things in
stride now that would have (and maybe should) be astounding and disturbing. Our
road is one. A journey that frankly intimidates nationals who live in the
capital is simply a normal routine for us. Yes, it is on a cliff for hours at a
time, yes we face danger from other vehicles and weather and the road just
collapsing or being collapsed on, yes it is long and arduous and exhausting,
but it’s just what we do and we barely think about it is abnormal.
Another
little incident of this type struck us in March on our way down to the capital.
It’s the sort of thing that ought to really cause some anxiety, but we just
mostly felt annoyance with a delay. You see, it seems that our neighbor to the
south has some people who have a tendency to express annoyance with armed
violent force and happen to be annoyed at the road being built on our side of
the border. They also have very little money and find kidnapping to be both
financially rewarding and fairly simple. They also have a tendency to resort to
force to resolve political disagreements or make a point. All of these
tendencies came together the day we drove down, though we had no knowledge of
it at the time.
The drive
went fairly normally, we left just after sunrise, drove normally almost the
entire way, until we reached the police post just past the halfway point down.
The road was closed. No explanation, not a word on when it might open, the road
is closed so you had better go back up the road to the nearest village and wait
there, you will get a call when it opens. We found a little tea house, had some
tea, asked around, turns out there is “fighting” about 30 km (20 miles) down
the road.
Ok, so we
will stay where we are. Fighting is a good reason to be off the road. The day
wore on and on, taxis and trucks making the trip down piled up in the little
village waiting for an opening. Every now and then an army truck would drive
by, speed through the post and be off. Once they had significant armament on
top, a sight common on the other side of the border but not on ours.
This should
have freaked us out honestly. A major international incident, troops in combat
operations, no word on the road opening up. Nope, we had tea, threw rocks in
the river with the boys (it’s amazing how long they can throw rocks in the
river if you let them, I don’t know why we ever give them toys), Matt took a
little nap, we talked chatted with other people stuck with us, called coworkers
to keep them up to speed, just waited. No one was ever upset, scared, even a
little nervous, just slightly annoyed that the fighting interfered with our
journey.
Dark came,
we realized the road wasn’t opening up today so we drove about an hour back up
the road to a town where we had done some work, found someone willing to give
us a bed for the night. The hospitality here is always astounding, a family
none of us personally knew took us in, fed us, laid out beds for five people,
all at the drop of a hat without a word of complaint. They seemed overjoyed
that we could stay with them and told us to stop in every time we came through.
It was a long night and an early morning, but the next day we were back on the
road to see if it was open.
We asked around, the secondary route
we could take was far too muddy with heavy snow on the pass, our vehicle
couldn’t make the drive. No one knew when/if it would open, but we only had one
option, so back to the little village and a spot on the side of the road. Once
again we got in line with all the taxis, trucks, and now even a few cars making
the journey down. Once again no one knew anything. Periodically we would see
more troops, more big guns coming through. These weren’t the kids drafted in
who are rarely even trusted with a magazine in their AK-47 on patrol, these
were the well-fed, well trained, very well armed special forces we see when
something big is going on. They bought water, snacks, so on, but stayed
tight-lipped as to what was going on and when it would be done. We passed time,
ate snacks, walked up and down the road, threw more rocks (seriously
entertaining apparently at the age of two or three), passed another day sitting
on the road.
Finally 5pm rolled around. We
didn’t want to go to bed too late if the road wasn’t open again, so had decided
5:30 is when we would give up and head back to the house we were in and get
some rest. So, we dutifully and disappointedly loaded up and turned back. We
were almost back to town when taxis started passing us. We pulled over and stopped
one, sure enough the road opened at 6:00 and everyone was getting through. We
turned right around rushed back down the road and passed through the post with
no problem. A long line of cars drove with us through the night, heading for
our destination more than a little behind schedule.
We drove by two of the machine guns
on the back of a pickup, a couple of armed personnel carriers, more than a few
troops sitting around looking tired on the road, kept right on going up and
over the mountains to the capital. It was about two in the morning when we made
it in and got unloaded enough to get to bed. Cindy made her flight out (it was
delayed for weather anyway, are you getting a theme in our lives?) and had a
great time at her meeting, so all ended well. A normally 13-hour journey was 41
hours, not a record for us (60 is our longest) but pretty close.
This is our life these days. Flat
tires, engine trouble, landslides, avalanches, major international combat
operations, these all offer roughly the same level of delay and annoyance, all
are possible on a journey out of town. Welcome to the new normal I guess.
