Sylvia's Journal

Everything is gritty. Even though I keep my mouth closed and the windows of the car are closed tightly the ‘shamal’ (northern wind) is blowing the finest dust through the smallest cracks. I taste the grit that is full of bad things for humans.

When I just moved here, now nearly 2 years ago, one of my colleagues said that Afghanistan was famous for its 300+ days of sun and blue skies. That was mostly true that first year, then somewhat true last year but this year I don’t think we can even make the 200 days. With the exception of a brief blue spell yesterday, the sky has been white and the nearby mountains obscured for days on end.

Constructions projects (houses, bridges, roads, sidewalks) are everywhere in our part of town. A brief squall blows all the construction sand and dust up in the air, whirling it around and pushes it in every nook and cranny. It is very fatiguing. Axel was smart to stay back in the relatively clean air of Manchester by the Sea.

The winds may be responsible for the fact that my non Afghan TV channels don’t work today and so I am forced to watch the local channels – none of them are very interesting or, if they would be, like news about the parliamentary troubles, I can’t understand the speaker because he speaks too fast or Pashto.