After two years in Afghanistan, I was hardwired to not like Tina Fey's new movie, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Living with near-daily suicide bombings, relentless death tolls and insane security concerns, Afghanistan and comedy don't belong in the same sentence.
WTF is the story of a former Chicago Tribune reporter Kim Barker, who went to Afghanistan in the mid-2000s for three months and wound up staying three years. Afghanistan has that effect. I went for two months and stayed two years returning last month.
As a journalist writing about the media for 15 years, I decided to shake up my life, flying to Kabul in February 2014. I arrived a month after the Taliban blew up a popular expat Lebanese restaurant, killing 16 people, most of them foreigners. That attack was considered one of the deadliest against Western civilians in Kabul since 2001.
Sitting on the floor of my guesthouse (which the Taliban later attacked, killing an American woman) huddled close to my space heater, staring at mud-covered boots, I had the same WTF moments Barker experienced.
But I too stayed. I took jobs with an NGO and a news startup, trained journalists and worked for the U.S. government, because there's a crazy, inexplicable allure for living and working in a war zone.
So I was eager to see WTF. Right away, I was suspicious when Fey arrives at the Kabul airport and there are chrome luggage machines. It's one of the dingiest, least modern capital city airports I've seen.
But that proved minor. When the lights came up, David, who had been in Kabul for years, and I looked at each other in surprise. Our verdict: Wow, that was good.
Good because it authentically captured the feeling of being there as an expat. Good because, even though filmed in New Mexico, it somehow got accurate footage depicting the chaos of Kabul streets. Good because it's true to the journalistic experience. Good because her relationship with her Afghan fixer rang true to my experience working closely with 20-something Afghan males preternaturally wiser from growing up in war.
The mistake many will make, as I did, was expecting that if Fey stars as Barker, it's a comedy. It's not. Sure there were wisecracking Feyesque moments, but what I found, with relief, was realism.
It accurately captures the intoxication of reporting when you have a great story, the hunger for the next one, and the fear you won't find it.
Maybe the party scenes were over the top. I wouldn't know. A month after I arrived, an expat hotel was attacked, killing nine, including four foreigners and two children. Nightlife virtually disappeared. And once working inside the U.S. Embassy, we were rarely allowed out without armored protection and guns.
But two scenes did resonate.
The first comes when Fey is in a car and spots a child crying by the road because he's dropped a carton of eggs. Fey is moved, and has her driver stop so she can give him money. While it's more likely an Afghan driver would let you in on the scam (the child is always there weeping with the same broken eggs), the scene persists. To me, it's a biting metaphor for how the U.S. barged into Afghanistan wanting to help without truly understanding the culture.
The other is when Fey is packing to leave, tired of the craziness, certain, like many, that the political situation is unresolvable. She says to her "Kabubble" photographer boyfriend: "I've gotta go. I'm starting to feel like this is normal. You know this is not normal, right?"
That stung, reminding me what is missing from the film: Afghans. There are two Afghan characters, her fixer and a buffoonish government official, unfortunately played by expats. But the cast is mostly military and journalists operating in a bubble, hence, "Kabubble."
It may not be normal for Barker. But it is for millions of Afghans.
Fey/Barker and other journalists can leave when they've tired of the dusty, potholed roads that turn into ponds in the rain, tired of the never-ending spate of suicide bombings, tired of the omnipresent armed guards at endless checkpoints, tired of living in fear.
Afghans can't. That is their daily life.
My Afghan friends working for the U.S. Embassy lie to their families about where they work for fear the Taliban will target them. When a bomb detonates in Kabul, mobile phones become lifelines. "Where are you? Are you safe? Please call me."
While trying to live normal lives, Afghans live with constant fear and uncertainty. Will there be a bombing? Will the government collapse? Should my family and I leave? What will happen to my parents if I take the special visa the U.S. offers Afghan employees working with it for a year or more?
My female Afghan friends can't walk freely on the streets without being harassed. Nor can they stay out past dark and take a taxi home, for fear neighbors will label them sluts.
All that isn't in the movie because that's not what the movie is about, and I get that. But coming to understand what's "normal' for Afghans had a profound impact. I always knew I could leave, and I did. I wish so many Afghans I met didn't want to leave too.
Former NPR ombudsman Shepard recently returned to the U.S. after two years in Afghanistan
