Shabbat in Kabul

Published with the permission of a client currently stationed in Kabul, Afghanistan. Names and locations removed for safety. _____________________________ Tonight was quite the ordeal. I met Ms XXXX at the picnic tables near the East exit of the compound.... both of us dressed to "Kill" in our Flak Jackets and Helmets... Ms XXXX is on the mailing list and today she received an email saying the Shabbat service would be held on XXXX Street next to the XXXX Camp. To get to XXXX Street we had to leave the post at 1800 and run across the street into another US post called Camp XXXX. This Camp is where I often transport ill patients needing advanced medical care... which I certainly cannot provide. As we crossed the street, the Afghani guards held their rifles high and nodded amicably to us. I thought: "...boy if they only knew where we were headed..." Our journey continued across Camp XXXX. We passed the bazaar... now winding down with empty spaces where just a few hours before merchants were selling their knives and guns, scarves and silver. Remnants of a BBQ smoked listlessly near the cross walk. After showing our credentials we proceeded through another checkpoint manned by the XXXX military. They had no clue about us and waved us through nonchalantly. Because we were in a hurry, we paid little attention to them. It was obvious they we looking us over, especially my companion, XXXX XXXX. XXXX is a beautiful young woman who had not attended Shabbat since her Bat Mitzvah at age 13. Her parents, now divorced, raised her to be Jewish but long ago dispensed with the religious house rituals reaffirming the faith. Tonight, it is XXXX's attempt to rekindle her "Jewishness". As she succinctly put it... "I told my mother I am going to “Jew-up” tonight. So, with a toss of her curly blonde locks, a sly smile over her perfect porcelain veneers, we trudged on... like two thieves into the night... we ran the width of the Camp and went down an alley. The sand bags were piled seven feet high and the camouflage netting obscured the view of the sky. It was close to sundown. We had to hurry. As soon as we reached the perimeter of the Camp, we found the hole in the wall leading to XXXX Street. On the other side, there lies the Polish Camp... Quickly, we ran down XXXX Street and found an opening. The Polish guards waved us through. Now...we had to find the XXXX office. I asked, "The XXXX office?" XXXX said yes, the Shabbat was to be held in the building next to the Polish XXXX office. We can pick up the key to the "temple" there and leave our body amour in the office. Never having been there before, I just "went along with the program"... The building was dark but the front door was ajar. We peeked inside. I turned on the light so we could see where we were at. A sign said "Friends of Bill enter here". Friends of Bill? Never heard that one! So we found the key hanging on the wall that said "Chapel" and exited the real estate office into another narrow dark alley. More gravel roads and yet another call to prayer from the mosque via loudspeakers. Oh, I thought maybe this trip was not such a good idea... We went to the next building and up the stairs. Polish soldiers were sitting in a day room still wearing their uniforms. I could not understand a word they said. We opened the room across from the Polish Dayroom and went inside. A synagogue. At last! We were late. No one was there but a bottle of Mogen David wine sat on the table. Fifteen minutes late the Rabbi arrived. Neither one of us knew what to expect. A small fragile gentleman entered the room. He reminded me of Menachim Begin. He introduced himself as Rabbi XXXX. He said he worked at Kabul University. Rabbi XXXX said he was most surprised to see anyone here tonight because for the last three months no one had shown up. He said he was most pleased to welcome us. Then, two of the Polish soldiers came into the room and stood behind us. I had a surreal moment... like I was on a movie set....one of the soldiers looked like Danny Kaye and the other like Roman Polanski... and they were speaking Hebrew! Rabbi asked XXXX to light the candles and with that he handed us booklets in Hebrew. Oh boy, I thought this might become uncomfortable. He pointed at a page (number 11) and he read it in Hebrew, then Polish, then English. It was a moving ceremony. We had our wine and thought the ritual over. Then he asked if we would like to participate in a Kaddish prayer because his father had just passed away... Everyone said yes...I think... The Rabbi then grabbed me and pointed me to face towards Israel while we said prayers in Hebrew for his father. When we were done, he sat with us. Then, two Polish soldiers, who - I couldn't get over it - were spitting images of Danny Kaye and roman Polanski, left and rejoined their colleagues in the dayroom across the hall. A huge truck tire was visible from my vantage point. I wondered what it was doing there... Rabbi XXXX explained he was in Kabul on a contract helping the medical school design residency programs suitable for the aspiring Kabul surgeons. Removing his yarmulke, he became Dr. XXXX again. He explained he had a difficult job because the Americans will not be able to sustain their presence here long enough to train his surgeons. He was clearly sad over this explanation. Dr XXXX looked at his watch got up from his chair, grabbed his wine and said, Thank you for coming and I'll see you next Friday?" We nodded agreement in unison. Since it was almost after dark, we quickly ran back to the XXXX office, replaced the chapel key and put on our body amour. As fast as we could run, we sprinted down XXXX Street and back into the Camp XXXX compound. The PX had a line of soldiers waiting to go inside. We ran past the Nepalese guards - who saluted us in a provocative manner - and back out through the gate. The Afghani Guards had us sign in and escorted us back to the compound. The embassy lights were on. Groups of soldiers and civilians huddled in small numbers ...some playing cards and others manning the computers that line a once beautiful gold leafed wall. The form of a profile of Saddam Hussein artfully scratched from the mural looked down on the occupying force. We parted company. Ms XXXX went to her room at XXXX and I went to my room in the XXXX building. I am so happy to be Jewish. It was a great night!