Word: flour
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Malim Mirwali is like no other Afghan I have met. His shoulders are thick like heavy sacks of flour, his chest broader than a 40-gallon drum. He has pylons for legs. The hand he offered in greeting swallowed mine whole in a fleshy palm, then wrapped it in fingers fat like German sausages. Over his grey kameez and flowing shirt he wore a neat-cut waistcoat. A bushy black beard tumbled from his face. He talked slowly; the same as he moved. "[Helmand] Governor Haji Shir Mohammed and American soldiers have gone on this road to Kajaki [a town...
...According to a lot of people, he also may be a little flaky. The fact that since 1998, so loose a nuclear cannon has been traveling in and out of the Taliban stronghold of Kandahar, where he has helped the Afghans construct a complex of buildings he describes as flour mills, has a lot of people worried...
...thought I would be searched. But there was no sign of soldiers. A cab took me the 100 km to Kandahar, and the driver pointed out the empty spots where Taliban roadblocks had been before the bombing. Some traffic along the road flowed toward Kandahar?trucks laden with flour, rice and other food, and a single Russian-made Taliban tank?but for the most part, people were headed the other way. There were a few vehicles carrying tires and timber, and a forlorn wedding party in four cars, the still, silent bride draped in green, bound for Pakistan. And then...
...week because of bioterrorism scares. An SUV cab on its way to a Capitol Hill party was stopped because it bore an unfamiliar logo. Georgetown was nearly shut down Thursday night when the Hash House Harriers, a running club which marks each mile covered with a pile of white flour, was mistaken for anthrax-spewing members of Al Qaeda. Yet at former Majority leader Mike Mansfield's burial at Arlington Cemetery last week, with half the Senate in attendance, only those who entered on the Fort Myer side got the dog-sniffing and mirror under the chassis treatment. Everyone...
...Band Of Brothers, war is more than hell; war is real. No one is consumed by a pillowy fireball or gasps out a soliloquy before expiring. Men are shot in midsentence, drop like sacks of flour and die sloppily, whining like animals. This is war as it happened, brutal and random, and in re-creating it Brothers captures viscerally the extraordinary sacrifice of a generation of ordinary...