Afghanistan News

The Kabul Gaming Board

A percussive boom rattled the windows of Springfield's, Kabul's best pizza joint. All nine players around the table flipped open their phones and started dialing.
"This is Billy Longo checking in. Do you have anything on an explosion near the Wazir Akbar Khan neighborhood?" the night's dealer barked out.

The security companies that protect Afghanistan's ex-pat community quickly reported that our nearby blast was nothing but a rocket landing in a patch of dirt -- a harmless but common militant attack.

Billy kept on dealing.

Kabul's wildest weekly no-limit Texas hold'em game has dealt its way through kidnapping threats and city-wide ex-pat lockdowns. Armed guards drive players across town - past Kabul's numerous police checkpoints - to the week's game. A handful of players regularly pack heat, though no guns have ever been drawn among this group of friends.

In a nod to the 1980's Soviet occupation of Afghanistan (and a favorite character from the movie Rounders), the group has labeled itself the KGB -- the Kabul Gaming Board. The action is not for the faint hearted. Though the night starts with just a $100 buy-in, the play is juiced by inflated conflict-zone salaries, limited recreational options and a certain type of war-zone bravado. And with $500 max rebuys allowed, the stacks build quickly.

The blinds are typically just $1-$2, but a $20 pre-flop raise under the gun will rarely prompt many folds. In fact, it might net six calls, part of the reason the games regularly see $2,000 pots by the end of the night. Once a month the KGB spreads a $5-$10 game, which sparks even bigger action.

A Canadian named Oke Millett started the current-day KGB by dealing friendly $20 tournaments back in 2004 to a group of international contract workers trying to improve Afghanistan's ministries. By fall 2006, the no-limit cash game became standard.

The game's characters are undeniably colorful.

Christoph Klawitter, a 6-5, 145-kilogram German who speaks the local Afghan language of Dari, is the table's largest presence. When he's playing behind you, watch your raises carefully, because he has no qualms about going all-in for $1,000 with suited connectors. But even knowing that tendency, can you call with your A-K suited?

The structure of the game still confuses Afghan-Canadian Abdul Latiff some two years into play. Latiff's favorite phrase: "I never know what comes next." This spring Latiff went on a bender one night, going all-in blind some 10 hands in a row. When he finally got called by pocket kings, Latiff turned over 7-2 offsuit to howls of laughter. But the wily Afghan got the last laugh. The river brought a fourth club, giving Latiff the $900 pot thanks to his 2 of clubs.

One of the table's most successful players is Janno Cazemier, a mild-mannered but wild-haired Dutchman who has become the table's one true bully, pushing on every street, never giving a free card. Janno never talks, only drinks beer -- Heineken, of course.

In early 2007, after the game grew in size, the KGB turned to CHIPCO for custom-made chips, and the game is now played with chips bearing the Afghan flag -- a red, green and black tri-color -- with two AK-47's crossed over the top.
Christoph, the mad German, won the KGB's first bad beat jackpot, which had been built up to around $8,000 by raking $2 from every pot. His aces-full were busted by another aces-full combo. A mere three weeks later my own quad 10s were busted by Oke's royal flush, though our jackpot was quite a bit smaller.

The KGB had one of its own -- American David Foldy -- make the money in the PokerStars.net APPT tournament in Sydney in December. And Janno and Oke hit the 2007 World Series of Poker, playing some satellites at the Rio. Both cashed at tourneys downtown. Janno also just missed the money in the €6,000 European Poker Tour Copenhagen event. A half dozen KGB members plan on being at the Rio for WSOP action again this summer.

The bright lights of Vegas will be a nice change for the crew from Kabul, where reliable electricity is a scarce luxury. Frequent power outages at the KGB games give a new meaning to "going all-in in the dark," one of Christoph's favorite moves.
All too often the Kabul city power cuts out, forcing the table to again reach for their cell phones. This time the phones aren't for security calls, but rather to illuminate the table with their dull blue glow. Such is the life of war-zone poker.

Jason Straziuso is writer based in Kabul. He regularly plays in the KabulGamingBoard.com games.