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As the thought hit me, I stopped walking and glanced over my shoulder. At the far end of the market, I saw four men carrying weapons.
Are they after me? Maybe leaving the base on my own wasn’t such a good idea.
Panic set in, but I took a deep breath while thinking of my best option. I continued forward a few steps, trying to blend in with my covered head.
After a few steps, I noticed a strange old man in traditional garb staring up at me from the shade of his booth.
“Can I help you?” he asked in English, surprising me.
“Some men are following me.”
He motioned with his hand.
“Step inside out of the sun and have a seat.”
His shop – if you could call it that – seemed innocent enough. Shelves full of candles filled the walls. He sat cross-legged on a mat near the entrance.
Not all locals are bad guys, I reminded myself.
“Thank you. It’s so hot out today.”
“Scorching.”
I stepped into his booth and sat down on a wooden box across from him.
“What is a woman like you doing here by yourself?” he asked, studying my face.
“I’m a journalist working on a story,” I said. “About FOB Cobra, the base nearby.”
“I know it well,” he said, nodding his head. “It’s not safe for a Western woman like you to be alone here.”
“I know. I snuck out today to talk to locals without the military around. I thought I might get a better story.”
“My name is Abdul-lateef,” he said. “And you?”
“Jade Hart.”
He smiled, showing a mouth with a few missing teeth.
“What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled.
“It’s good for people to hear the truth about Afghanistan. Are you an honest reporter?”
As his ancient eyes stared into mine, I shifted in my makeshift seat.
“I would say so.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Would you like water?”
“Sure.”
I watched as he leaned over and dipped a metal cup into a bucket of water next to him.
