Afghanistan - Day 13 - Dust

There's just no getting away from the dust.

In my tent, the dust is an ever-present reality on the floor. If I don't have shoes or flip-flops on, my feet will get dirty instantly. My suitcase and my backpack are now coated with a beige layer of Bagram's finest (pun intended). At the end of the day I can shake dust from my pants without ever having sat down in that dust. It is constantly blowing through the air, looking for surfaces to which to cling and crevices in which to burrow.

When I walk down the road to my classroom, the DFAC, the MWR or the latrines, dust is being kicked up by all the vehicles, small and large, that travel that main road. I try to breathe through my nose but sometimes I open my mouth. Just that little yawn is enough to feel the grit on my teeth for the next two minutes.

In my classroom dust coats the floor. Sweeping it out would be a sheer impossibility if not for the ingenuity of the two Afghans who do this. They spray a little mist of water before sweeping. Not only does it keep the dust close to the ground, but it bundles it up into "bigger" dust particles that the broom can push out the door.

Even now as I'm sitting I can feel the dust drying out my skin, my nostrils and my hair. Thankfully, rain is in the forecast. So far that's been the best way to keep the dust down. And while it does turn the landscape into a virtual mud pit, there are enough gravel paths through that mud that make it preferable to dealing with this dust.

I think the dust is the only thing about Bagram that I won't miss. OK, maybe the diesel fumes too.