Stimulating The Local Economy

Just got back from Liberty out in town. A shipmate and I went down to the local market to price stuff we might wanna buy later. NOT!!!!! We ended up buying most stuff now. If you think used car salesmen are bad you ain't seen nothing compared to the high pressure sales tactics at a third world market. Its like used car salesmen hopped up on crack.....Well actually in this case, hopped up on Kaht (a narcotic plant that people chew out this way. It seems it is very, very popular). They are all over you. "You buy here!!!! Best Price Best Price Make Deal!!!! jibber jabber jabber jibber buy here!" The taxi ride into town was an experience in itself. We stepped into the cab and tried to tell the driver where we wanted to go. He only spoke Somali and french and I only speak Texan. Luckily my buddy spoke American fairly well which was good because every foreigner in the world understands American IF.......... YOU......... SPEAK........... SLOWLY............. AND................ VERY............... VERY........... LOUD. We were confident we had communicated our destination to the cabbie suitably slow and loud and off we went like a scalded monkey! In shear fear for my very life I reached for the seatbelt and discovered it had no latch. I had to settle for hanging on white knuckled and pale with fear as Djiboution Joe the Cabbie from Hell did his best to qualify for NASCAR. Of course we didn't end up at at the Market. The driver pulls up in the "party district" where the booze, night clubs, and prostitutes are busy "not existing", after all this is a Muslim country and they don't have such western decadence...ahem. So there I am trying to remember the six years of french I took in elementary and junior high school. "Non ici, non ici. Cherche le marche!" I had no idea what I was saying other than I remember ici means here and I think cherche means to find. Hell, every time I tried to say something in french, it came out in German. I had no idea what the word for market was. I was guessing. We had passed a food store that had a sign that said "supermarche" I hoped that Marche meant market. Shoot, it might have meant "Monkey Ass sold here" for all I know. It must have meant something because the cabbie yammered unintelligibly and off we went again. This time we actually got where we wanted to go. As soon as we stepped out of the cab, the hawkers were all over us. "You in my store, good price good price". Saw a lot of really cool stuff and I bought some of it myself. It's all about bartering here. They throw out a price, you throw one back at them at least 75% lower and you meet somewhere in the middle. It is a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I really don't like to deal with pushy sales people, they irritate me. Unfortunantly, that is how business is done hereabouts. Hey, if my pards from Company L, 1st Texas are out there, if we ever want to do the "Zulu War Dance" I now have the correct tools. Suffice it to say, I am now broke. I spent way too much money and I still don't quite have everything I want to take home. Most importantly, I am not leaving this country without a "Man Skirt" of my very own.

TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD

Just Gritchin'

Billeting is working to make our lives better. Recently, our humble hooch was visited by the wall locker fairy. One day they just appeared, eight of them, just like that. Of course, they had no keys or door handles but at least you can hang clothes in them. I remember when I checked in a little over four months ago, the check-in briefing mentioned that billeting provided a foot locker, and a wall locker for every resident. Armed with that information my newly arrived buddies and I dropped by billeting and asked for our stuff. We managed to get a footlocker and nothing else. Not a problem we tend to get creative in austere environments and that can be fun. I myself have a "chest of drawers" made entirely from duct tape and UGR boxes. We had strung lines up around our areas to hang Mosquito net curtains and those decorative woven plastic mats they used to sell at the exchange. The lines also served as clothes lines. Overall it was a very homey, combat eccletic kind of effect. Somewhere along the lines the powers that be decided billeting should be held to the standard they advertised and a perhaps little better. So, from on high (i.e. the General), the command went forth:

"Billeting go forth and sin no more. Provideth my troops with the requisite wall locker and footlocker. Verily I also say unto you to limit the number of elisted troopers whom resideth in a hooch to a number being no greater than sixteen, sixteen being the number of enlisted troops per hooch and the number of troops billeted per hooch shall be sixteen. Seventeen shall not be the number thou shalt billet in the hooch nor fifteen unless thou proceedest past fifteen to billet one more. Lo, there shall not be fifteen nor seventeen troops per hooch but no more or less than sixteen! Yay do I also charge you that the number of senior enlisted and officers in a hooch shall be governed by the authority invested by the most high. Therefore let the most senior of the enlisted men be billeted in hooches of ten as with the most junior of officers the number billeted shall also be ten. The more senior of officers shall be blessed by the almighty and be billeted in hooches of eight for the least of them and six for the most. And behold all shall have some measure of privacy each according to his due. Verily I say unto you to go forth and raise up partitioning through out all the hooches in the land that my Marines, Sailors, Soldiers, and Airman may have privacy for which to smite the monkey, each according to his stature."

In short, we had to prepare for the impending arrival of the partition fairy. Our hooch is scheduled for upgrade today (I just wish they would fix the fool air-conditioner). To facilitate the process, i.e. to make it as disruptive to the residents as possible (I refer you to one of life's little truths: NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED), we were required to move all the "furniture to the center of our space, pull up any floor mats or carpet we had put down and remove any resident designed partitioning. That little chore had to be accomplished by 0700 this morning. As of 1400 today the partition fairy still had not made his appearance. I suppose I should be grateful that they are making the effort to improve our hooches, but I am just in a foul mood. My hoochmates and I had gotten the homestead just about how we like it. It was homey, somewhat smelly, but comfortable. Change is bad. I know, I know, quite your bitchin' and get back to work. Yeah, that's just what I'm gonna do.

TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD