Chapter 6
" The best weapon against an enemy is another enemy."
- Friedich Nietzsche
- 1844 - 1900
John finally got so bored he even tried to learn a bit of the local language during mandatory down time until he figured out that no one was willing to teach him. The few local men allowed on base he approached with caution and asked about learning to speak at least a couple of common phrases but they obviously didn't trust him. He wouldn't have trusted him either.
Eventually an elderly Afghani sauntered up to him where he was sitting in what passed for shade downing part of his daily required amount of water. John had seen the older man before, talking to one of the intel guys. So he must have permission to be on the base. The villainous old man, who resembled an extra out of an Indiana Jones movie, spoke passable English. The first thing he asked John was if he wanted to learn Dari and Pashto in order to spy or to seduce a woman. Appalled, John denied either and said he just figured that learning a new language might be useful. Introductions were formally made and he and Samir worked out a complicated barter system that involved an hour or two of language instruction from Samir in exchange for a supply of Samir's favorite parts of MREs, usually the wrapped cakes, and the highly prized M & Ms and packs of cinnamon or mint chewing gum from John.
Samir never praised him on his progress. If John got something right, he just grunted in acknowledgement or nodded his approval. If he messed up really badly, Samir would smack him on his thigh, arm or the meaty part of his shoulder with what John assumed was a camel stick though he never saw Samir with a camel. The unorthodox method of teaching had it's benefits. After a few weeks, the old bruises began to fade and there were very few fresh ones. The tiny bit of praise Samir offered John once, if it could be called praise, was shortly after a lesson that had gone extremely well on John's part or at least Samir hadn't resorted to the "stick of doom". He told John that he had a gift, not seen often in many white Christian men, and it was not just a gift for learning a new language. John didn't understand and Samir refused to explain himself, just abruptly ended the lesson for the day and left John to wonder what he'd meant. Samir never mentioned it again and John didn't ask but he thought about what it might mean often at night when he couldn't sleep.
After a little over three months of their daily lessons, interrupted only by John's flights and other duties, Samir pronounced him as ready in the basics as he was ever going to be without holding real conversations daily, told him to practice if he got the chance, solemnly shook his hand and strolled out of camp with his packs of gum, wrapped cakes and M & Ms secreted in the voluminous pockets of his robes. John always looked for him after that last lesson, but he never saw him on base again.
TBC