Training Bodyguards

We ran a series of short training courses for the bodyguards of influential Afghans - or at least those who were important to us.

These included the team who looked after the Afghan Minister of Finance and, more locally, the Police District 10 Police Chief.

Both were important to us in different ways, and both were equally delighted that we ran some training, which included minor tactics, weapon handling and skill at arms, shooting, first aid, and fitness training.  Bodyguards in Afghanistan tend to be drawn from the tribe, clan, village of family of the principal.  They are chosen for their loyalty, and not necessarily their professional skills.

We aimed to provide, so far as is possible in a short course, a small amount of training which may just possibly help to keep the principle alive in future.  We provided this training gratis, in a spirit of friendship and brotherhood, rather than for any immediate financial gain or political capital building.

These, friendship, brotherhood, are traits that the Afghans admire and respect.  Respect and admiration go a long way in a country where the rule of law is tenuous at best, and where personal relationships matter more than any centrally driven decree or direction.

The Bodyguards enjoyed the training, and we enjoyed delivering it.

Female Staff and the Absurd

Our female staff were the longest serving employee group on the books.  I remain uncertain if this is a reflection of their loyalty, or of the difficulty for a woman of obtaining employment in Kabul.  I am guessing the latter.

We quietly opened a creche for the children of our staff, as mandated under Afghan Employment Law.  This was an act one of our female Close Protection Operators describes as 'absurd'.  She was right, but I am a lover of absurdity, and doing the right thing, and this was a great combination of the two.  Unfortunately the uptake was poor, and after 3 months we had to close the creche down.  At least we had tried.

Afghan Trader

This chap used to come to our base in Kabul with other traders every Friday, where they set up stalls outside our dining room to sell jewellery, art work, carpets and clothing.

I bought a silver and Lapis Lazuli necklace and ring.  'How much' I asked.  '$60' he said.  So I gave him $60 and he gave me the look.

He then went around his stall filling my bag with various trinkets to make up the value to $60.  Clearly I had not played his game, and he wanted to make it right.