by Aileen Moffatt & LTC Chip Henderson
Carlos had been suffering existential crisis of sorts. Yesterday, late in the afternoon he’d critically surveyed the landscape as he had so many times before and muttered to his crewe -- aka the Humptyback Posse -- “We really need to get out of here. I know we can do better than this.”
Carlos et al are camels. Typically they spend their time grazing in the hills near Imam Sahib in Kunduz Province, Afghanistan except during harvest when they are corralled by a local farmer to carry huge loads of straw from the fields to the village. Carlos thinks this is beneath him and creates quite a fuss when he is called into what he sarcastically refers to as “indentured service.” Consequently, Carlos has a reputation of being a trouble-maker -- a bad boy camel, as it were – a status he cultivates because he likes being thought of as a little edgy, a little bit “gansta” in an Afghan camel sort of way. He also thinks one day it will help him with his legions of female fans.
You see, Carlos has dreams – BIG dreams of being a recording superstar, an internationally acclaimed artiste; he just needs the right vehicle. He’d had a run of bad luck lately what with the writer’s block and all, but he’d heard that all great artists struggle with the creative process so he tried not to worry too much. It had, however, been several months since his lyrical synapses had fired and he was starting to feel the burden of unfulfilled expectations weighing heavily on his bruised psyche. Moreover, the hard physical labour of harvesting was sapping his energy and making him overly moody.
Carlos’s Posse is Larry, Rudy, and Chachi. Larry is laid-back and introspective. He has a lazy eye and chain smokes unfiltered Camels. No one ever asks, “why Camels?” It is just part of Larry’s persona. Besides, he plays a mean bass guitar and knows the words to more songs than anyone else in the band. Rudy is short for Rudolph. He is the band’s drummer. His dearly departed mother was a Tajik camel yet somehow she had become very fond of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” (the Burl Ives version, of course) and named her one and only son Rudolph with the hope that he would somehow make his family very proud just like the little deer in the song she hummed to Rudy every night as he went to sleep. And then there is Chachi, Carlos’s younger brother. They are not much alike. Carlos is tall, suave, and charismatic while Chachi is a small, bouncy, energetic kid. Carlos thinks Chachi is a big pain in the ass but he was the best keyboard player they could find, the pool of camel keyboardists not being so extensive.
Yesterday Carlos reached the limit of his patience as the proverbial straw almost broke his back while he trekked along the side of the road, hundreds of pounds of straw strapped to his hump. “Damn insurgents,” he thought, his back aching with every step, “if they would just leave these poor people alone so they could figure out how to get HBO and DSL, we’d all be better off.”
All night Carlos had stewed about his regrettable situation as he wrestled around trying to find a comfortable position that did not exacerbate the pain in his hump. It was now or never, he decided. We get out at once or we are stuck here until at least spring because soon it would be cold and snowy and everyone knows nothing much happens in northern Afghanistan during the winter. He dozed a little and when morning came he was energized, confident he had made a solid decision.
Carlos unfolded his long legs and shook off the sand and grime that had become stuck to his hide during the night. As he waited for the Humptyback Posse to get themselves together Carlos began fidgeting. He looked down at his cracked hooves then swung his head around to look at his coat. “Man. This is not the look of success. I need a pedicure and a haircut” he thought to himself.
Carlos lumbered out of the shed in the direction of his favourite breakfast spot -- the far pasture just a little bit up the hill but not so high up that it was a struggle to get there on an empty stomach. Larry lit his first cigarette of the day and quietly fell in behind Carlos. Rudy and Chachi came along a moment later snorting and chuckling about Chachi’s dream last night that he had been playing hockey. “That is so crazy,” Rudy finally said when he could catch his breath. “Ice Capades, maybe. But you playing hockey, no way!”
“I know,” howled Chachi, “but I was so awesome.” They hurried along to catch up with Carlos and Larry who were already half way up the hill.
Carlos let the crewe munch on the little patch of weeds for a while as he collected his thoughts. Then with an almost furious excitement, he looked squarely at the other camels and said, “Boys, today we are done with all of this.” He waved his head back and forth, motioning towards the barren hills and sandy horizon. “Yes, today we leave servitude behind and create our own destiny. We will control our own lives, determine our own fate, map our own futures. Today we are free camels.” He stomped his front hooves to show he meant business.
The Posse stared intently at Carlos. They had been expecting him to make some kind of a move for several weeks. It had been a difficult harvest and all of them were exhausted. The drought had taken a huge toll on yields this year so the farmer had made them walk further and further to gather every last bit of his crop. Carlos had become intensely frustrated and annoyed at the way the farmer treated them – like they were mere packhorses or donkeys. No! They were Carlos and the Humptyback Posse, and they knew for certain that one day they would be famous. Then that damn farmer would be ashamed of the way he had treated them. Oh yeah, baby. They would show him and everyone else in the village…
“Enough of nibbling on weeds around the edges of life,” Carlos added referring to the rather plain breakfast the Posse was absent-mindedly chomping. “We deserve better than this. And starting today, we will have it all. Let’s go celebrate our freedom.” And off he sauntered closely followed by an obviously enthused Posse.
The troupe made their way to a small watering hole across the valley called The Camel Toe B&B (Breakfast & Bordello) looking for Carlos’s girlfriend, a hot little double-humper named Tina, and hopefully to meet up with Larry, their manager. It was mid-afternoon when they arrived and they were ready to throw down. Carlos stepped inside and immediately spied Tina. She was sitting at the bar wearing a sexy, very low cut, black patent harness that accentuated her eyes. Clearly she was not happy to see Carlos. “You bastard!” she yelled. “How dare you step your hoof in here after what you did!”
“What are you talking about?” Carlos replied cautiously. He scanned the room for clues. Tina was high strung and Carlos had been down this road before with her.
“I heard about you and that hussy Daphne. Seriously? You made it with a mule? When you had me?” cried Tina. Both of her humps were shaking. Clearly she was one wound up camel.
“First of all,” Carlos said carefully, trying to piece together what was going on. “Daphne is not a mule. She’s a donkey; there’s a difference. And besides, we’re just friends. Nothing ever happened.” He tried to cross his back toes to ward off the bad karma that was sure to come his way because of this bit of a lie. Unfortunately, camels don’t really have toes per se so while it was a valiant effort, in the end it didn’t make a difference.
“Whatever.” Tina looked away and feigned a yawn. “I’m tired of your games. It’s over. Besides I have Achmed now.”
“Achmed!? The plumber!? You’re leaving me for a plumber!?” Carlos was incredulous. Achmed was a horse’s pitoot in Carlos’s book. Sure he had money but Carlos was quite certain Achmed was taking bribes in order to fix people’s plumbing. But worst of all, Achmed was a hairy Bactrian! What could she possibly see in him?
Carlos’s anger made Tina feel glorious and empowered. “Yes you ridiculous camel. I am with Achmed now and by the way he is an amazing juggler.”
“I love jugglers!” yelled Chachi who was desperately trying to get into the conversation. Carlos shot him a steely look. This was not a moment for Chachi’s exuberance.
“Shut up Chachi! Go feed the jukebox or something.” Carlos turned his big head towards Tina. “Listen to me, baby. You know I love you. Daphne is history. Let’s have a drink and work this out.”
“No way Carlos, it’s over and I’m out of here.” Tina strode purposefully towards the door then paused. She could not resist one last parting shot, “And besides” she said, “you are never going to amount to anything more than a lousy four legged lumpy wagon carrying other people’s stuff.” Tina knew just where the stick the knife in. She let the bar door slam behind her.
Carlos was pissed but didn’t want to show it. After all he had his “cool camel dude” reputation to consider. Instead he sighed loudly. “C’est la vie,” he added for effect. He’d seen that in a movie once and had been waiting for just the right moment to try it on. “That worked,” Carlos thought to himself. “I might have to use that again sometime.” He ordered a tall vodka and pomegranate juice with a twist and settled in at the end of the bar.
Just that moment, in walked Larry looking vaguely irritated. He’d passed Tina on the porch and she’s simply rolled her eyes at him and kept moving. There was no love lost between those two. Larry thought Tina was trouble; Tina was certain Larry was a loser. In fact, they were both spot on.
Larry was once a champion fencer who lost an eye while training for the ‘96 Olympics. He became an alcoholic and began dealing in black market camels that he sold to churches in America for Christmas manger scenes. Eventually Larry sobered up and found a niche for himself marketing camels in a legit way. Carlos and the Humptyback Posse were his first music clients but Larry had grown tired of Carlos’s “all talk, no action” attitude and was ready to move on. Camels were getting on his last nerve.
“Listen Carlos, I need something from you now. I have a Meerkat boy band that has put together some rockin’ tunes. If I can just get them to stop standing around on stage admiring each other, I might have something. And when I do, I won’t have time for your sorry camel ass.”
“Larry.” Carlos replied coolly, “Get ready to rock and roll. Today Carlos and the Humptyback Posse are liberated. No more straw for this camel. And certainly no more cranky farmers or greedy insurgents. Nope. We are outta here. I will have fresh material for you before you can say Bruce Springsteen.”
Carlos downed his drink and placed the glass carefully on the bar. He was still rattled by the Tina episode but was determined to keep that to himself. To the unsuspecting eye, Carlos seemed composed and in charge. In reality, Carlos’s stomach was doing flip flops and he felt his blood pressure rising. It had been quite the day. He’d walked away from his home and quit his job, his girlfriend had thrown him over for a plumber, and he’d just promised Larry new material that did not exist. He needed to clear his head.
The Posse, however, was already in the game and had no intention of going anywhere. Chachi was belting out a rather passionate version of “I Will Survive” while Larry attempted, not altogether successfully, to accompany him on the spoons. This was going to be a total shit-show, no doubt, as only camels and their buddies can manage when they cut loose. Carlos definitely was not up for that. He needed to lie down, get some rest, quit thinking about Tina. He left the bar alone and walked into the stable across the road. He found a quiet spot near the back wall and lay down. It wasn’t long before he was sound asleep, memories of the good times he’d had with Tina weaving in and out of his dreams.
Several hours later, Carlos woke with a start. His brain felt like it was buzzing. Little snippets of music were playing over top of one another giving him a royal headache. When he closed his eyes again, a banner of brightly coloured words scrolled across the bottom of his view. Carlos was totally discombobulated yet surprisingly not frightened. He decided to go with “it”, whatever “it” was. About an hour later, exhausted yet excited, Carlos knew everything would be OK. It had taken a minor miracle that he did not understand, but the music gods had bailed him out with Kabul Camelback Blues, a funky little love song with an irresistible Euro-pop beat and supremely simple lyrics … think Johnny Cash meets Lady Gaga and you will be on the right track.
A few weeks later when they came out of the recording studio in Kabul they all knew something special had happened. Four unknown camels from Kunduz Province had just recorded a hit song. Larry felt like Col Tom Parker with Elvis at Sun Recording Studios. He had “discovered” Carlos and the Humptyback Posse; he’d taken them from shaggy country hicks to recording artists on the verge of superstardom. Larry crossed himself and repeated the Alcoholics Anonymous prayer since it was the only prayer he knew and hoped that would do as an offering to the music gods.
Carlos was already thinking about what to do with all of the money that was going to come his way once this hit went viral. He’d insist on being paid in US dollars, for sure; none of that Afghan funny money for this camel. Of course he’d buy a big house with a magnificent multi-stalled barn. Oh, and maybe he’d have a swimming pool too so he and his entourage could paddle around during the summer. He wanted to buy a flashy new sports car because that is what rich folks did but he wasn’t sure if it was worth learning to drive. Something about him behind the wheel of a car just did not compute for Carlos.
As for the Humptyback Posse, well they too were making plans. Larry’s first purchase was going to be a Mamiya Rz67 camera, the kind Bryan Adams used to take photos when he was on tour. Larry had recently seen a review of Adam’s photography show at the Saatchi Gallery in London and, being the original Bryan Adams fan thought “if Bryan can do it, I can too.” He figured his lazy eye would give him a unique artistic perspective. Rudy was starting to pay more attention to his appearance and spent his days reading European and American fashion magazines and blogs. He longed to meet Andre Leon Talley of Vogue; now there was a guy with style! And then there was Chachi who was so completely exhilarated at the prospect of travel and meeting other guys just like him that Larry finally had to get him a prescription for Prozac in order to get him to wind down to a level where the rest of them could deal with him.
Larry wasted no time promoting his camel musicians and within a few short weeks Kabul Camelback Blues was at the top of the pop and blues charts around the world. There wasn’t a radio station from Kandahar to Moscow, London to Toronto, or Beijing to Auckland that wasn’t featuring the sensational new band from the hills of Imam Sahib. Everyone wanted to meet Carlos and the Humptyback Posse, have their photo taken with them, pretend they were great and trusted friends from way back. The paparazzi could not get enough of the Posse. Life was good but it was getting complicated.
When Rolling Stone magazine put them on the cover, Carlos and the Humptyback Posse were ecstatic. This was Carlos’s dream come true and the greatest validation he could receive. It also led to an offer for a leading role in an Indian soap opera that would allow him to sing occasionally. But best of all, Tina wanted him back. He’d decided to let her stew a little first but in the end, he missed her like crazy and wanted to tell her all about his success so it was just a matter of time before he’d give her a call.
It appeared that everything was just as it should be for the band. They were wildly famous, hugely popular, and US dollars were flowing like the Kunduz River. Larry began to press Carlos for new material – he did not want them to be a “one hit wonder.” No, this was the cash camel he’d waited for and he was going to squeeze every last dime out of it. Sadly, however, Larry was so wrapped up in his own greed and desires that he did not realize the band was beginning to spin out of control. Too many celebrity guest appearances and too many parties were taking a toll on the young camels from the Afghan hills. They began their days drinking champagne and by evening were toasting themselves with their new friends Jack, Jim, and Jose. Days were spent being interviewed by every kind of media outlet from around the globe, including BBC, Al Jazeera, and CNN and with each subsequent conversation the stories got crazier and crazier. Chachi took to Tweeting incessantly causing hoards of fans to track his every move. He became so infatuated with his groupies that he began making up things just so he could post “fresh” material. He soon realized, however, he could not keep up the flow of exotic lies. He didn’t have the imagination for it. Chachi became so overwhelmed by stress that his hair began to fall out in great clumps making him look a bit like an old fur coat that the mice had chewed up.
In short, the band appeared to be living the dream but in fact it was a nightmare.
A few months into their world tour during a layover in New York City where they were scheduled for appearances on Good Morning America and The View, Carlos and the Humptyback Posse were caught soliciting underage female camels at the Bronx Zoo. They were promptly thrown in the slammer for 3 days while the international media clamored for details. Other stories began to circulate online feeding an already hyper-active rumour mill. By day 4 no one knew anymore what was true and what was not but one thing was for sure, Carlos and the Humptyback Posse were done. Despite a plea for clemency by Jungle Jim Hannah, the band was deported to Afghanistan.
Rudy went back to Imam Sahib and looked up Daphne. He’d always had a crush on her and had almost confronted Carlos that day in the bar when Tina had accused Carlos of messing with Daphne but he had been too timid to speak up. Rudy and Daphne were last seen sneaking off to Pakistan in search of respectable white collar work.
After a stint in rehab to break his prescription drug habit, Chachi came out to Carlos in an attempt to rebuild family trust. Carlos, who had known all along that Chachi was gay didn’t bat an eyelash. He nodded, looked away, and said nothing. It took a lot these days to get Carlos to respond to anything Chachi had to say.
Larry on the other hand had moved on immediately. As it turned out, photography was his passion and he had a latent talent for capturing stunning action photos. One of the images from his series on the annual New Year’s Buzkashi tournament in Mazar-e-Sharif was picked up by the Associated Press and subsequently appeared on Page 1 of the New York Times Sunday Style section. Soon after National Geographic approached Larry with an offer to do a coffee table book about blood sports in Afghanistan. Yes, Larry was going to be just fine.
Tina left Carlos again, but this time she never looked back. She married Achmed in a quiet ceremony at The Camel Toe B&B attended only by close friends. Tina is doing the books for Achmed’s plumbing business and skimming off a little for herself. She also took up juggling so she and Achmed could practice together and work the occasional children’s birthday party.
Larry got busted for smuggling stolen Mary Kay products into Afghanistan and trying to sell them at the bazaar in Khanabad. He went underground after that but recently appeared on a list of known insurgents that IASF was tracking. Carlos recently received a postcard from Larry supposedly from a resort in Indonesia but Carlos wasn’t buying it.
Carlos opened a small burlesque joint in Kunduz City knowing there would be a market for such an alternative entertainment venue but the shadow Governor quickly shut him down when he refused to pay “property taxes.” He dreams of a reunion tour of Carlos and the Humptyback Posse, guest spots on late night talk shows, and possibly even a Bollywood movie deal but in the meantime Carlos is picking up singing gigs in small towns across northern Afghanistan. His voice is mostly gone, though, as is his reputation as a “cool camel dude.” Every night when he folds himself up to go to sleep he imagines, “tonight will be the night the music gods come back to me.” And every morning he wakes up, shakes off the sand and grime that stuck to his hide during the night, and wanders out into the bright Afghanistan sunshine.
