I got this hat in 2002 as a good-bye present from the staff in our Afghanistan and Pakistan offices. It is an Afghani Chief’s hat.
A colleague of mine kept on referring to it as my ‘ead. I understood ‘head’, and had no clue what he was talking about. “Nice ‘ead!”. “Gee, well, thanks, I had it all my life!”. “No, the ‘ead, not your ‘ead!” Anyway, since then, I referred to my hat as my ‘head’. This morning, it fell off the bookshelf, where it had been sitting quietly for the past few years. My ‘ead fell down.. (and was nicely dented).
Anyway, that is besides the point, also besides the point is that I got this ‘ead at a party the Islamabad staff threw for me the evening before I was to fly to my new duty station. That was just before Martin and Robert thought it would be a good idea to have a ‘last one’ in the Islamabad UN club, and they introduced me to a bottle of “Skone Aquavit”. I could not remember much anymore after that. I do remember, I missed my plane the next morning, and had the worse hangover ever! I went back to the office. Martin and Robert looked at me with a real wide grin, and C. turned her head away… I must have had a look with question marks on my face, as Robert said “You don’t remember anything anymore, do you?”. Well I did not. Apparently, we got pretty jolly, started to dial everyone who was so unlucky to have their number stored on my mobile phone. ‘Last numbers dialed’ revealed we called all over the world. Once again my public apologies to all!!! I know it must have been late in Sydney, and early in California! And sorry if I said anything to offend you!
During that ‘dark’ period, we seemed to have run into C. plus husband who had a late dinner in the club. I must have made a disgrace of myself, as since then, C.’s husband does not want to talk to me anymore.
Martin also told me that the traffic cop did not think it was funny when we stood at the crossroad on the way back home, and I pulled out a whistle from my pocket too as I claimed to do a better job than him.
I think that was the last time I got drunk.
Peter. Flemish, European, aid worker, expeditioner, sailor, traveller, husband, father, friend, nutcase. Not necessarily in that order. (
I have enjoyed very much reading the storries about “your way to the horizon”. I like the style, you are writing. Sometimes I was smiling like: “…Yes, thats life in Africa…”, then trying to imagine, what great moment you guys must have felt there on Peter I., but also deeply touched by the tragic times, you had. Its been inspiring and impressing as well.