Sense of community develops on some Forward Operating Bases. My personal favorites are ones where benevolent leadership understands that development of cohesive kinship and some level of social engagement is a personal necessity out here. This belief then gives rise to planning and encouragement of community activities, sports, events, even designated physical spaces for everyone to enjoy. Everyone is far from home and hearth, kit and kin. Everyone misses their life back home - bars, movies, restaurants, convenience stores, fast food, pizza delivery, the Mall - any number of things. Everyone works 12 hours a day 7 days a week - some at hard physical labor, others doing data entry 'til their eyes bleed. Everyone is confined to 50 square feet of living space...give or take. Privacy is at a premium. Personal hygiene and habits are disparate. Somehow though, at those homey FOBs like Spin B with its parachute shade rescued from the burn pit or Wolverine with its long, shady, front porches perfectly placed for watching sunsets, where one finds a central meeting area, a movie night with popcorn, a 5K run, or even karaoke night in the DFAC, a great sense camaraderie, even of family, forms - and it is lovely. There are days out here on the FOBs when I get the odd sense that I am glimpsing what life in the old West must have been like for Marshal Dillon, Kitty, Festus and Doc. Last week at karaoke, I sang a rousing old Buck Owens song, "Rollin' In My Sweet Baby's Arms." It was fast and a real foot stomping hand clapper. Everyone seemed to enjoy it although usually the Filipinos lean more towards the ballads. Of course, there are no horses tied to the hitching posts and there are no bar or gun fights...we do see the occassional fire fight off in the distance or Kiowa helicopters shooting flares to assist ground troups on a mission beyond the walls, still this place just has that Wild West feel to it and the Afghans did bring 2 cows onto their part of the base this week, so maybe, this week at karaoke Pete and I will sing Rawhide - likely no one will get it but us but we will be amused...rolling, rolling, rolling...keep them dogies rolling...
Cliques form, of course, among workers of such varied age, background, ethnicity and background. Groups of Filipinos seem to prefer living, working, eating, and hanging out with each other as do groups of Kenyans, and groups of Indians (with dots, not feathers). Filipinos enjoy karaoke and near beer. They sing ballads. Kenyans play soccer and enjoy gospel singing and chapel activities. Some play cricket, as do the Afghans. Americans are the only ones who seem to worry about political correctness in the treatment of and interaction with coworkers from other races, nationalities and ethnicities. A hierarchy definitely exists whether we worry about it or not. DynCorp's contract with the government requires that in LOGCAP IV, local Afghan labor and 80% Foreign National workers be employed. Expats, although severely in the minority, still hold the lion's share of supervisory and management positions. The pay scale, theoretically relative to the local economy in a worker's home country, still seems off kilter to some. Afghans who clear mine fields outside Kandahar Air Field get $8 a day, a stick and a face shield and some expats are offended that a Filipino, Indian or Kenyan workers in the DFAC or trades make a bit under $3 an hour while expats bring in between $12 and $50 an hour. I don't notice the offended dividing up their personal paychecks with the poorly paid though and personally, I am not offended. Each person from each country knew full well what the rate of pay would be before accepting his or her position and deploying to Afghanistan. We all get a 70% uplift - 35% for hazard pay and another 35% for locality pay. American don't pay taxes on the first 92K as long as we stay a full year. We all work for our money. It is not a bad place to be. We chose it. We can unchoose it too-anytime we want. We all get a free ticket home.
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