Tripping in Kandahar

We had met him in Herat. We were catching the bus to Kandahar when we heard a voice coming from upstairs. He was sitting on a window sill of the hotel where we had spent a few nights, with his legs hanging out. He had blonde hair, blue eyes . He wore an afghani coat and faded jeans. A big smile on his face he said something about how great Herat was and in a few seconds he reached us while we were climbing the steps of the bus.

We travelled together to Kandahar, so we found out that he was german, he said his name was Kurt and he seemed particularly interested in our friend Loretta. We checked into a hotel on the main road that ended in a wide square with a round police stand in the middle, from which a policeman was directing the scanty traffic. He checked in with us and we all got a big room with four or five beds and a big terrace overlooking the street.

We spent the day walking around town, drinking tea and eating kebabs. We also met two canadian girls, Alice and Joyce, who were travelling together and they told us they were staying in another hotel near ours, so we invited them over to our room for a smoke. Evening came and one of the girls took a little silver box from her bag .Wanna do some good acid ? she asked. It was “window pane” and in a short time we were all tripping high. We found ourselves on the big terrace. Meanwhile darkness had fallen on the city. I took out my harmonica that I had bought before leaving Italy but that I didn’t know how to play yet, the right sound just didn’t want to come out. I’d been trying so hard but it just didn’t work. So I started to play blowing and sucking air from it when I finally I got it , here it was, that blues sound that I was looking for. I was so happy and I kept on playing the blues and everybody was enjoying it. This is something that good acid can do I’ve found out, when you just let yourself go and your mind and body are one, when you are not thinking consciously but you let yourself loosen up .

At one point in the night we saw this big flock of sheep flooding the road. All was silent, only the occasional soft sound of the bells of the animals and the shuffling of their feet could be heard. The shepherd had a long beard and was holding a long stick . He wore a long robe and a turban on his head. It was like something out of a Bible tale . The flock went by slowly and everything was quiet and calm again. We were all smiling and you could almost see the” good vibes” around us.

Suddenly, just out of the blue, there was a loud smashing noise . We looked at each other. Kurt wasn’t with us. More noises, coming from the inside of the hotel, loud noises as if someone was throwing pans and dishes around, smashing windows…..and that was exactly what was happening ! Kurt had gone mad and was smashing up the kitchen of the hotel. We ran to the kitchen but there was nothing we could do, he would not listen, he would not stop. He kept screaming and trashing around, smashing all he could lay his hands on, pots, pans, dishes. The peaceful and beautiful trip we were having had suddenly turned into a nightmare. Other people were coming. The doors of the rooms were opening and banging closed, sound of feet running down the corridors, screams…..the world had gone mad ! So we left, we retired to our room, we just could not take that madness anymore.

Dawn was coming. The noises went on for a while more then they stopped. Only screaming and loud voices in languages we could not understand , german and pashtu.

We decided to go and see how the situation was evolving. The kitchen was totally smashed to pieces and empty. We went downstairs and out into the street. Kurt was surrounded by five or six cops that were holding him by the arms. He was still trying to fight but he was getting tired. Then he saw us and I think I saw a smile on his face, like he was enjoying the situation, but just for a moment, because he went on pushing and shoving. The police finally subdued him and took him away .

We saw him a few days later at the hotel. I think he had to pay for all his damages otherwise they would never have let him go free. We left for Kabul the next day and never saw him again along the road to India.