Porque é que não tenho alguém assim na minha vida?

·         She speaks with scorn of the risk-averse life lived by most of the foreigners in Afghanistan as they sit locked up in their heavily fortified houses and will only venture out in armored vehicles, with security guards and with elaborate ECM [Electronic Counter Measures] protection: “They hardly leave their compound and never make friends with Afghans—can you imagine?” she asks with incredulity. “It’s such a mess. No one is here for the Afghans. Seventy percent of all U.S. aid to this country goes back to where it came from in salaries. We’re awash with contractors and crooks making a killing here. It’s all flowing back to U.S. bank accounts.”

·         To look at, Nancy is small and fragile, with features as gentle as the grandmother from “Little Red Riding Hood,” all gray curls and innocent blue eyes; yet she is active, alert, and passionate in her anger: “The worst of it is that it’s all deliberate policy,” she continues, nibbling at her salad. “Rumsfeld claimed he had privatized war. So much of the occupation was given over to private companies, and done for profit. The NGOs here these days are little better. It’s like a zoo, except all the animals are out and clawing each other, competing for the same resources.”

·         At this point, bursts of automatic gunfire echo from the street outside. Immediately, all the hardened correspondents dive for cover, myself among them. Only Nancy continues unfazed, announcing from her seat, “I think I’ll just finish my chips.”

Leiam mais sobre a vida desta Senhora (com “S”) aqui: http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2013/04/01/nancy-hatch-dupree-s-quest-to-save-afghanistan-s-history.html - What a life!