Another day— another chance.
I drag my backpack and half dead body to the depot and onto a Pakistan bound bus.
I am barely able to defend myself from the usual beggars and scum that come crowding up the bus aisle as soon as I drop into a seat.
Leprosy or something has demolished one woman’s face so she gets the coins. A sleazy man offers to exchange Afghani money for Pakistani rupees. I will need the money so I cash out my few remaining Afghani slugs, and then discover that it is illegal to carry Pakistani money INTO Pakistan. That rascal would make me an unwilling smuggler. A ragged boy wants to sell me cigarettes. When I decline he uses what is probably his entire English vocabulary on me: “Fuck off!”
The bus slowly rolls out of Kabul. The road follows a stream that gradually becomes a green torrent. Now the river plunges down a bare, rocky ravine, the road following in sharp twists and turns. There is no plant life at all. After an hour the road levels and we pass two lakes reflecting distant snow capped peaks.
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