So I was thinking....

Two Apache Helicopters taxi around in front of me and I’m squinting my eyes hoping I don’t catch a rock. This runways is filled with debris, and with the day I’m having, something’s going to blind me and I won’t make it to the bird. I like how we call it a bird. Why haven’t I ever bought a normal pair of glasses I could just wear in my uniform!?! I’ll do that next week.

The noise of the wind and the blades is so loud it’s hard to keep my eyes open and as I jump in behind my boss I juggle my papers, hat and bag with this complicated 4 strap seatbelt. These headphones keep getting looped around my boot yanking my head down. We are late, the bird was late, we are going to be late getting there. I have to call 4 more people. Finally my boss shows me where each strap connects and I’m treating all my things like a thigh master. My knees get weak, Suzanne Summers would be disappointed as my planner dumps out pens notes and a phone. I give up and just step on it all to hold it down. I can’t reach for it anymore, I’ve finally strapped myself in.

Nice, I can’t believe I managed to keep my camera in hand. As I realize the noise is muted I look around to see my boss, and two of his security guys peering out the window, so I look.

We are swinging up, very lightly we rock a little, tilt and as if with the breeze we are floating up the valley sweeping over farms and hills. Nervous excitement. I am in a helicopter, I can’t believe how smooth this is. The rhythmic beating of the blades slice the light slight enough not to notice but I see it. We are in our own daytime adventure with heilo-strobe light included.

And I am looking out, to a different time. Robed men are chasing their sheep. The town ahead of me I’ve seen before, it is in my memory with a family vacation to Indian Dwellings. This is Mesa Verde transposed, but then I see that the people are still there. Which homes could they live in? This one may have all it’s walls, no roof. There is one. And the green lush farmlands surrounded by low mud walls and irrigation ditched make tessellation type patterns across the landscape, how did they do that? I wonder how they get the water. Did they dig for wells in a line and giveup on all of them?

The pocks are craters worthy of a lunar picture. And I’m back in the reality that this country has seen war for most of it’s modern existence. These are not attempt at wells, these are scars from bombs? Planes dropping, shooting rockets as it fly’s over? What was here? There is nothing around. They are called “lines” my boss tells me. Some of these lines are too near homes. Did they miss or was something next door? They are old scares.

And we are above an area of tent communities. That pot is too close to their “home”, where are they getting water?

Then the construction comes into view and I know I am nearing the city and airfield. This 15 minute flight would have been 90 minutes on the dirt road. I have been taking pictures and concentrating on holding down my loose things with enough force not to break the phone. It will take almost 2 more hours and the return trip to realize what I’ve seen is many peoples reality.