Duck 'n Cover

That's our bedroom. Yes, you are viewing the ceiling from an angle nature never intended.
When I arrived here in November last year we had a very leaky house, so some labourers were called in to 'make mud'. Initially I thought that was a cute euphemism for weather proofing, but ney. They and their donkeys turned our garden into even more of a mud pit, added grass and smoothed it over the roof, which is indeed comprised of mud. Unfortunately they did a rather poor job and we spent all winter hop-scotching around buckets and tea cups while huge piles of snow melted slowly into our bedroom. When the snows were gone I clambered atop our house, waved at all the kite fliers on neighbouring rooftops, and spotted the cause of our woes immediately. They had left a nice big hollow above the bedroom. So we got that patched up. Yay. No more leaks through 'rainy season' (2 weeks in April of occassional drizzle). Until I noticed that it looked like an earthquake may have hit while we were on the monsoon tour of India. That and a delightful odour of the grave.
I'm afraid that a mosquito net may not be sufficient to prevent death by falling rafters. I've always thought that it would be a shame to die in some mundane way in a place like Afghanistan, but I had been thinking more along the lines of road accidents, since no one has a license and there is no traffic law enforcement.
Anyway, running away from our very dusty, very stinky house. Off to Faizabad.