Distant Accountability

Authored By Michael M. Michaelson

DISTANT ACCOUNTABILITY!

Our worn out traveling van steadily bumped over the last twenty miles of one of the worlds longest roads in "no mans land," a barren buffer zone between eastern Iran and Afghanistan and came to an unexpected halt. After a three thousand mile trek in the heart of winter, we finally arrived at the western border of Afghanistan, consisting of a stone hut and a crude wooden barricade.

From out of the smokey hut two heavily armed guards dressed in thick long sheep skin coats approached our vehicle, making their way to us through the blustery wind and blowing snow. After several minutes of hand signs and broken exchanges, the guard finally pointed to the western horizon, indicating the setting of the sun and then pointed to the east as if calling something from over the distant frozen horizon. By this gesture between the guard and our driver, we discerned that the border was closed for the night and we were to return in the morning. The second guard then gesticulated to us eight anxious passengers, that we should go over to the sprawling stone building, which stood dark and cold, set back from the road off to our right. The guards were adamant about the border being shut for the night and encouraged us with their continuous nods to go stay at the stone walled fortress, which had been made over into some type of accommodations, or what might be called a crude (and I mean crude) middle east hotel.

Our arguments and bribes brought no alteration to the guards thinking so our small group pulled up to the ominous Stone Inn and we cautiously entered its dark and dank walls and soon picked out the best of the rooms. Shortly after our arrival two large bus loads of about 100 travelers were also waylaid at the hotel for the evening. Our early arrival into the stone Inn had afforded us the better room, once the hotel filled with its many unexpected guests. Before the night ended, we had to place beds in front of our door to prevent intrusion by any undesirable guests into our already crowded room, and so our adventure began.

As usual, in most journey's, mornings somehow manage to bring change to every scene, and consequently one half rotation of the earth had prepared a rather ominous surprise for us. I awoke at what I thought was the crack of dawn to find our rooms high windows half covered, with what seemed to be a heavy blanketing snow and the stone chamber was bathed in a brilliant white light. I thought it best to try and find out what all this covered window stuff was all about. I bundled up and meandered down the long stony hallway to the main entrance to investigate. There I attempted to push open the huge old door, but found it being held tight by some power from outside. With another curious soul, we managed to push open the door and found ourselves blinded by a vast wonderland of snow. There before us, the landscape lay buried deep in drifts, deposited the night before by a great eastern BLIZZARD!

We were now looking out over the top of snow drifts at least six foot deep. I remembered that we had ascended at least eight stone steps the evening before but now, the only thing visible on this plain of snow were the bumps where the tops of our Van and buses use to be. To make a long story somewhat shorter, we were now trapped in a totally inadequate stone building, in "no-mans land," unable to return into Iran (because of the snow and our exit visa's) or proceed into Afghanistan because of the blizzard. How long this unexpected inconvenience was going to last, the weather man only knew, and the only one I remembered was about twelve thousand miles away in the States!

At first things were rather pleasant, very majestic and quiet, but as the day wore on and the snow continued to pile higher, the worries of food and wood and general supplies began to make themselves known. The bus travelers were completely ill prepared, and we ourselves were lacking in all needed items, but our concerned group soon united and took inventory of what we had, and immediately discovered, that the crises was far worse than we imagined. For the ice palace had absolutely no toilet facilities (nothing new to us) no firewood, barely enough food for a few days and a hotel manager who had an eye to further enrich his empire on the woes of these many unsuspecting travelers, SOCIALISM at its best!

As the first week progressed and the snow finally reached its peak, the hotel of more than one hundred very upset and hungry guests became more an institution for psychological studies, rather than a winter refuge for weary souls. Many intriguing inter active plots immediately developed, most of them managing to, one way or another, secure food and all other necessary items required by western culture. Things like clean drinking water, matches, blankets, toilet paper, coffee, sweets, aspirin, medicines and reading material. It was amazing to see how quickly those who had, soon gained friends, respect and authority over others. They say that necessity is the mother of invention, but in this case, necessity became the engine of commerce, entertainment and of survival, pure CAPITALISM at its best!

I discovered that everyone had something to offer; our room had two individual guitar players, one French and one American. They soon found that their abilities could not only assist them in helping with a few handouts, but at times calm a rather high intensified group of people packed everywhere in the Stone Inn. Another small group of inventive folks soon organized their room into a theater and would put on a different play every evening. Of course admittance would cost some needed item, like toilet paper, candy bars and in time a slice of bread! I joined in with a story telling segment of my own which turned out to be one of the most unusual experiences of my life. For shortly after I began telling a variety of in depth stories of mystery and intrigue, my creative ability was as if hired out to help fill the long cold evenings where special items of trade would be paid me. Hey, you got to do what you got to do, INDIVIDUALISM at its best!

As the week wore on, we continually over heard complaints on how the Master Inn Keeper (we called him Mustachio, because of his oriental mustache which hung down at least a foot on each side of his face) along with his few shady servants, were now taking advantage of every situation, DICTATORSHIP at its best! Mustachio fit the role perfect, wearing a long black cape, a black tapered sheep skin hat, and thoroughly intimidated everyone with his deep set beady eyes, hidden under thick bushy brows. Our group was able to remain fairly independent of all the Inn's plots, due to our previous experiences, preparations and a deep instinct to survive! We would prepare our own meager rations on a small butane stove which we so happened to carry in the Van, but not all were fortunate enough to have this type of equipment. It never fails to amaze me how authority soon raises up its greedy head and begins engineering further plots to extract some gain from misfortune and so it was with the Stone Inn manager Mustachio, OPPORTUNIST at its worse!

We mostly lived on chi, mixed with powdered milk, made from frozen snow, and dried bread and fruits. From our previous experience with cold, while staying in eastern Turkey hotels, we immediately bought up all the wooden furniture (very cheap) and stored it in our room, then slowly broke it up and burn it in the small wood stove at night. Oh, did I fail to mention that it was on the average about 20 degrees below insanity and that was without wind! We guarded our doors constantly, and sharpened our skills in bartering for needed items and our group, even though independent, had to unite to maintain our health and well being, DEMOCRACY at work!

The situation grew rather intolerable for everyone, and in a few cases rather dangerous, forcing into existence an inner organization, which we soon called the "No Mans Government!" Into the second week, by basic government standards, our informants (after all, every government has got to have its spies along with its wheelers and dealers, COMMUNISM at its best) had bribed one of the boarder guards to contact the authorities in the city of Harrate which lay about 100 miles to the east, inside Afghanistan.

By now threats of diplomatic reprisals were being made and it is possible, that these threats reached someone in higher authority, for in the middle of the second week, when things had reached more or less a prison condition, word reached us that the Afghanistan Army was sending a convoy out to rescue us and we all laughed at such a ridiculous rumor (media propaganda).

However, things with Mustachio and his gang of robbers and cons had nearly driven a few down and out sols to commit bodies to the deep snow, and this was getting worse as time slowly and I mean slowly dragged on. Have you ever watched six feet of snow NOT melt? Our informal government had to take special precautions to prevent unnecessary disappearances or otherwise said, assassinations, thus, the P.P.P.P (Patrol to Prevent Permanent Problems) was formed, SOCIAL EQUALITY working its way! This Stone Inn was becoming a living Soap Opera with serious consequences, and I was personally hoping for some sort of intervention and soon; besides, I was nearly out of stories!

Strangely enough, Mustachio and his dirty little servants began to somehow come up with a few needed items and began to treat their prisoners, I mean hotel guests with some dignity (they dug a pit for toilet usage). This help turn rumors into possible reality, sort of like the lame duck presidency, soon to be gone, so better give away the house, rather than ruin a good thing! Sure enough, in a day or so, an Army caravan, led by snow plows, followed by a line of trucks arrived at the Stone Inn. Soldiers were dispatched throughout the rooms to collect everyone and soon the crowd was gathered in front of the hotel, standing in a semi circle in knee high snow. The Afghan General barked out a few stern orders and immediately the Inn Keeper, Mr. Mustachio was dragged out in front of everyone, JUSTICE at work!

Apparently, reports of his poor management, outright thievery, and the slow extraction of wealth from every traveler had been brought to the Generals attention and he was now going to deal with this man of responsibility! Mustachio stood in front of the General while being questioned but shook his head as if denying any fault. Sorry Mr. Mustachio but the distraught witnesses had no thought of turning away from your most obvious guilt! We stood quietly listening and watching, and as Americans and Europeans we expected nothing of any significance to occur, but then the General snapped an order to another soldier who immediately stepped forward with two other men and simultaneously began to beat the Arab Inn Keeper…pure JUSTICE at work!

This was no ordinary beating, they really beat him good, you could hear the thuds and smashes! They were using their rifle butts, heavy kicks, hard punches, all without concern to who was observing, while pitiful Mustachio cried out for mercy.

After more than a few minutes of fierce beating the General nodded his approval, spit on the thoroughly thrashed Inn Keeper and walked away. He then entered the hotel, seated himself among the more approachable guests and ordered his men to begin roasting huge chunks of fresh goat and mutton, while handing out fruit and flat loaves of bread, now this was POLITICS at its best!

I stood watching from the porch as Mustachio slowly got to his feet, spit out a few broken teeth with blood dripping from his nose, tried smoothing his prided mustache, now rather shredded, painfully put his hat back onto his bruised head and girdled his dirty garments around. His face was furious with anger and immediately screamed out for his servants, and sheepishly they came forward before him. Suddenly, and with all the same fury which had been inflicted upon him, he began to kick and beat the derelict crew of hotel servants. They too, soon bellowed out for sympathy, but none was shown, until Mustachio was satisfied that they had received their due recompense. He then spit on them twice and limped away…ACCOUNTABILITY at its best!

The next morning the traveling caravan said goodbye to the "No-Mans Inn" and headed east for Harrate. The memory of this episode, and how justice was measured out by the General, always stuck with me. The General did not bother at all with the lowly servants, trying to find a reason or bother with long drawn out inquiries. He did not organize a committee or attempt to gain some political stature but went directly to the authority in charge, THE ONE ACCOUNTABLE, and punished him accordingly! Then, the punishment went right on down the line from the top. This was one of the more fascinating examples on how ACCOUNTABILITY and AUTHORITY met in this distant land.

For in actuality, it was Mustachio the authority in charge, who should have been the man to properly exercise his responsibility and personally deal with his servants as the General dealt with him! Instead, he became the Master Thief, and allowed his servants to lie, steal, cheat, corrupt and deceive , fully taking advantage of misfortune, and apparently Mustachio the leader and authority was certainly guilty for partaking in this despicable show of self gain, stupidity and unjust arrogance!

It is interesting to note, that this justice seemed to shock every westerner present. They saw first hand, stern and no nonsense justice, and in many opinions it was a very proper Justice which had been measured out directly, by an authority sent to rescue and correct.

What we were witnessing was an official chain of command, and positions of authority receiving what was due unto them. For Mustachio, being the recognized owner, opportunist and government at the Inn, he should have been honest in carrying forth his responsibility as a man in authority! If a person is going to accept the honor of a position of authority in business, politics or leadership he better be willing to also accept the accountability and the punishment which goes with that position, NO MATTER THE POSITION!

Personally, may there be found a General in each of our minds to keep out the corruption and establish the proper justice for all!

Contact Author at:

michael@ticktalk.net