My colleagues and I lease two vehicles, NTVs, for use on base. We’re a little short-handed right now, with only 3 of us stationed in Bagram. One guy works on the airfield, quite apart from the other two of us, and he has the use of his own pick-up truck. My other colleague, Alex, work together most of the time and we share a small SUV, trading the keys back and forth.
Our numbers will be growing over the next couple of months, to a total of 8 or 9 personnel on Bagram, and we requested permission from the base to register another vehicle – we were turned down. The base is incredibly crowded. Traffic on Disney Drive (the main strip) is commonly backed up and inches along as pedestrians line up at the crosswalks. The parking lot at the PX is almost always full.
It’s going to be interesting coordinating 8 or more people with one vehicle. I’ve considered buying a bicycle, but the coming winter months will make that a poor solution in the short term.
There are a lot of NTVs on BAF, and they’re each leased from a small number of Afghani companies, and all of them are incredibly expensive. We pay $1,800 each month just for the pick-up truck. Many of us joke about buying a few vehicles over here, leasing them, and retiring with the income you’d generate. We’re sure the government requires the use of Afghani companies, though, as a means of getting money into the local economy.
The leases at least come with comprehensive service plans, as I discovered recently when the pick-up needed a new set of tires in order to pass a base inspection. The wrinkle is that the company that leases us the vehicle cannot come on to post, which means we have to go out to meet them.
I won’t discuss the security measures of the ECP, for obvious reasons, but Alex and I drive off base in the early afternoon, just after lunch, and are immediately flagged down by two men in an SUV parked in a dirt lot just outside post. We pull over and greet the company men sent to help us with the tires.
The dirt lot is incredibly uneven, pitted and rough. Not a great place to change tires. The guys’ boss had told us earlier on the phone that they would change all 4 tires in 10 minutes, and so I issue the challenge to them, pretending to set my watch. They start to scramble and scurry, gabbing the new tires and the jacks from their car before I tell them I’m kidding. “Please, take your time.”
Being outside post is sort of anti-climactic. We’re parked in a dirt lot with several other cars, and two Afghanis are changing our tires. The town I can sometimes spot through the fence on post is across a small field lined with rough paths. Villagers stroll out from time to time and walk by us, one man rides his bicycle in large circles before picking it up and carrying it across a hedge of concertina wire. Every once in a while, Army vehicles stream out of the ECP in their formation, disappearing into the distance where they might find enemies waiting.
Alex and I are watching the Afghanis work, feeling uncomfortable as most people do when watching other people perform manual labor, when we’re approached by three Afghani boys, probably young teenagers. One of them is pushing a wheelbarrow stacked with packages of Afghani snacks; I can’t make any of them out and besides I didn’t bring any money. They also have with them a large container of water (or tea?) for sale.
The boys approach us sidelong, trying to avoid our two workers who, when they spot the kids, shoo them away with curt demands in Pashto. The boys leave quickly, harass another nearby car full of people, and then make their way across the field toward the village.
The changing of the tires takes more than 10 minutes, but not much more. While they’re changing the driver’s-side front tire they notice gasoline in the wheel well and point out that our fuel filter is leaking. Not expecting to have to repair this, they open the hood of their car and remove their own fuel filter, swapping it with our faulty filter. The older of the two sucks gasoline out of the filter and blows into it, showing us where the leak is by the air that come out along a seal. (This is the second time I’ve seen someone suck gasoline out of a fuel filter. The first time was in Arizona, but that’s an entirely different story.)
We thank the guys for their help, we shake hands, and then Alex and I drive back on to base. Our adventure outside the wire was short and entirely uneventful. NTV = Non-Tactical Vehicle
BAF = Bagram Air Field
ECP = Entry Control Point
