Real Police Stories

All that most people know about an Afghan policeman is that:

1.    They are corrupt.
2.    They get killed a lot.

Both statements are mostly true. Certainly, Afghan police, many of whom are not literate and work for around $120 a month—about 50 cents an hour--are among the most corrupt in the world. Like any person with power over someone else’s life, the temptation for graft—be it in Chicago or Kabul—is mighty. The low pay also makes graft a matter of survival for some police officers.

The other sad fact is also true—police officers are regularly killed here. There are about 900 police killed each year, and it is no wonder, for they are truly on the front lines. 

They are the guys stopping cars and reviewing your ‘papers’, manning checkpoints in isolated areas, and otherwise being the sacrificial lamb to any damn fool that wants to shoot them or blow them up.

They are also real people, with real families, and real stories.

We were out hiking—well, I guess we were just walking around a hill near town, since our security has deemed the mountains too dangerous. It seems goats in springtime can be an overwhelming security challenge,  as not much else is out there right now. But I digress.

We were walking down a hill to the road where are car was parked, when the police officer manning the gate saw us and invited us over for tea. Of course, we had to join him, as it was a great mutual opportunity for us to get to know each other. During the next 30 minutes, we found out that:

• He is engaged.
  
• 4 of the 6 brothers in his family have died fighting various wars against the Russians and the Taliban.
  
• He fought for the Northern Alliance against the Taliban
  
• He sleeps in the shed that doubles as his post.
  
• His port-a-john is, uh, at capacity.
  
• He likes his job, but wishes he made a bit more money.
  
•  His bench is a mattress—for time when things slow down.
  
•  He is confident that the Taliban will be defeated.
  
• More than anything, he would just like to have peace.
  

It was fun sitting on a lazy Friday morning, hearing from a normal guy, who is in incredible danger each day, but just deals with it by offering strangers—and quite a few friends driving by—a cup of tea.