Jerry Beisler - The Bandit of Kabul: Counterculture Adventures Along the Hashish Trail and Beyond . . .

THE BANDIT OF KABUL

Counterculture Adventures Along the Hashish Trail and Beyond

Jerry Beisler

The Bandit of Kabul: Counterculture Adventures Along the Hashish Trail and Beyond

Copyright 2006, 2012 Jerry Beisler. All Rights Reserved.

Special Thanks Contribution: Kate Anderson and Julie Bowers

Presentation Copyright 2012 Trine Day, LLC

Published by:

Trine Day LLC
PO Box 577
Walterville, OR 97489
1-800-556-2012
www.TrineDay.com
publisher@TrineDay.net

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011931900

Beisler, Jerry
The Bandit of Kabul: Counterculture Adventures Along the Hashish Trail and Beyond 1st ed.
p. cm.
Epub (ISBN-13) 978-1-936296-02-6 (ISBN-10) 1-936296-02-0
Kindle (ISBN-13) 978-1-936296-82-8 (ISBN-10) 1-936296-82-9
Print (ISBN-13) 978-1-936296-02-6 (ISBN-10) 1-936296-02-0

1. Beisler, Jerry. 2. Asia, Central -- Description and travel. 3. Kabul (Afghanistan) -- History. 4. Drug traffic--History--20th century. I. Title

First Edition

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the USA

Distribution to the Trade by:

Independent Publishers Group (IPG)
814 North Franklin Street
Chicago, Illinois 60610
312.337.0747
www.ipgbook.com

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.

Leslie Poles Hartley, The Go-Between (1953)

The Beats and the hippies are ancient history.

Terry in Rory MacLeans Magic Bus (2009)

Most writers regard the truth as their most valuable possession, and therefore are most economical in its use.

Mark Twain

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

Mahatma Gandhi

Itll do you no harm.

Sly of Sly and the Family Stone to the crowd at Woodstock

Its better to have weed in the time of no money than money in the time of no weed.

Free Wheelin Franklin

Youre the party, the Grateful Dead is the excuse.

Jerry Garcia

Dont get the idea that Im knocking the American system.

Al Capone

I got forty red, white and blue shoe strings and a thousand telephones that dont ring.
Do you know where I can get rid of these things?

Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited

Smoking is a custom, loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black, stinking fumes thereof, nearest resembles the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.

King James I, 1604, On Smoking

All of a sudden I could hear somebody whistling from right down at Nicks caf?
I said, I dont know, the wind just kind of pushed me this way.

Robbie Robertson, Somewhere Down the Crazy River

The only thing new is the history you just learned.

Harry Truman

Table of Contents

NOTES FOR THE 2012 EXPANDED EDITION BY TRINEDAY PUBLISHING.

The Bandit of Kabul was written under agreement it would be about 220 paper pages. For six years thereafter I have published many magazine articles that expanded earlier or later history, fleshed out people, or situations.

My non-fiction novel device showing a photo of a person when introduced, either solo or in a group, so the narrative does not have to stop and describe a physical appearance is continued in Those magazine articles using a different time or setting whenever possible.

Trineday Publishing has crafted text from these publications and found additional, relevant photos and maps from other sources to further expand The Bandit of Kabul into a broader more detailed and intricate view of my original counter-culture history of the 1970s.

The scene on the beach

If it didnt happen this way, it should have.

GOA, INDIA, NOVEMBER 1971

The former Portuguese colony of Goa was hyped as the counter-culture Nirvana. If the hippies ran Disneyland, it would be a lot like Goa with free sex, plenty of herb to smoke and the greatest mango lassis we ever tasted. It was real life not the virtual world of modern American society, that stifles and subverts freedom with conformity and bourgeois boredom.

The pirates that preyed on cargo traffic out of hidden coves that line the Goa coast were not the Pirates of the Caribbean, an amusement park attraction acted out by human manikins. They were real pirates, and there the differences begin.

In fact, Goa was not quite the perfect paradise it was cracked up to be. The first night my fiance, Rebecca, and I arrived, we learned a new definition of creature comforts: Only the creatures are comfortable.

Sleeping on the hard wooden slats that passed for a bed, to the accompanying whine of mosquitoes eagerly feasting upon us two well-fed American delights, caused a few moments of doubt about our proposed stay.

The next day Rebecca and I found the house with the heart on the roof. It was one of only three structures on the entire 50 miles of beach that had the benefit of intermittent electricity. We discovered that padded mattresses were available from local merchants as were colorful fabrics to use for bedding or beach-wear. A mosquito net provided the necessary protection from our blood-besotted friends. The alternative was a coil of reeking incense, probably laced with DDT.

Forty years later, Goa hosted a Conference of International Bankers, some of whom were interviewed by CNN in front of their luxury hotel, complete with imported palm trees.

One of the more charming aspects of Goa was the sanitary system. All houses came complete with a convenient out-house that was backed up against a pig pen and raised above it by three steps. When one used the facilities, little snouts would be visible at the end of the chute, grunting eagerly while awaiting their breakfast. The pigs became our constant companions on treks to these outhouses. Watching them scurry for the choicest spot suggested the origin of the term piggy back. Once we moved into our charming little home with the heart on the roof, mosquito nets in place to protect us and softer bedding for indulging in tropical lust, the days and nights became much more pleasant in the land of Goa.

The farmers market consensus was that a couple of hundred people lived on the beaches from Calengute to Anjuna. The locals survived by fishing and were happy with the low-key commerce we international types contributed to their villages.

Our next-door neighbors were Shashi and Jennifer Kapoor and their two young sons. Definitely not hippies, the Kapoors were strongly anti-drug; especially in front of their children. Shashi was a third-generation actor related to a long line of Bollywood producers, directors and promoters. Jens parents were Shakespearean actors during the late period of the English Raj, and had remained in India. In their retirement years, the couple continued to perform two-person Shakespeare plays.

Shashi was notified by telegram of his starring role in producer/director Conrad Rooks film Siddhartha a week after we met them. He and Jennifer and the children were elated and invited us to a small, celebratory party.

The beaches of Goa were spectacular, a seemingly endless span of sand and palm trees. The waters of the Arabian Sea were not particularly inviting, being somewhat murky and filled with small sharks. All the same, we enjoyed a couple of swims every day. Evenings would find us strolling along, enjoying the sunset and admiring the waves outlining the shore with glittering, phosphorescent streaks.