Charminar: April 2009

Maybe it’s also because it’s Spring, but lately I’ve been immersed in lots of culture. Last week there was an exhibit at Babur Garden (see my Feb post), my fav little bit of heaven in Kabul- the photos of Steve McCurry who’s been photographing Afghanistan for 30 years. It seemed ridiculous but I couldn’t help it – I took photos of his photos and include a few here bec I kind of made some of them my own. The next day a film at the French Cultural Center, another of my hangouts, titled “”women’s choices””, but really a tale of two special women - The Governor of Bamyan and The Commandante, who lost a few sons and took up arms herself, leading the guerillas during the fighting- she’s now a King Solomon like judge, overseeing all the disputes in her province. Her decisions are never challenged.

April 18 –Spring has finally arrived in Kabul. ( I’m back after a period when I couldn’t write - energies needed elsewhere.) Even though I’m in the dirty ugly city that Kabul has become with women in high heels and burkas tramping through endless mud because street contractors just take the money and run- my bedroom window looks out on a super verdant grassy garden with cherry, apricot and mulberry trees, grape vines and too many rose bushes to count- all promising to bear the most prolific literal mountains of fruit and roses larger than my hand if not before I leave then when I return. I wake to platoons of birds and the laughter nof children playing in the street, and ,since most of Kabul is treeless and barren, it’s all very encouraging, this ability of the earth to renew itself no matter what.

From my roof last Wednesday I could hear the demonstration on nearby Darulaman Rd against the new Shia law signed by Karzai (and heard about round the world I’m) that allows men to have sex with their wives whenever they like. It took place in front of the allegedly Iranian- funded mosque because the mosque’s mullah spearheaded the law. Little noted in the mass media was the protest against the demonstrators that took place at the most progressive high school in the city - a young male student died in the melee. These are the Afghans that cause my Afghan American friend K to lose faith and hate Afghans.

But most Afghans I know are upbeat.
Last night we gathered on the rooftop of Z and her father, F’s house for barbque and F’s special and surprising treat. The only light came from the surrounding houses in blocks that HAD electricity. F is a wonderful example of amazingly optimistic Afghan. While we are all bemoaning our restrictions- like being in lockdown this past week during the demonstration- this is the best time to be in Kabul for him for most of his 50 plus years. He is positively exhuberant. He points to Kabul Mountain from his roof top and says that during the time of the Mujehadeen, you couldn’t travel to the other side; there was fighting on every corner, between Pashto and Tajik, between Uzbek and Hazara. He and his family would run from one side of the city to the next, taking only one precious possession each. Finally, they fled to Pakistan.

It’s better for many people but here’s something else you won’t read in the mainstream: there are more than 60,000 street children (excuse me if I already wrote about this), many of them with families who send them out to the street to support their parents’ opium addiction. Besides the usual street children occupations of map and gum selling or swinging smoking buckets to ward off the evil eye, a lot of them are prostitutes. Ten years ago there was no begging in Afghanistan - if a woman lost her husband or children lost their parents there was always the extended family (unlike in the US where we’ve had begging and homelessness for a lot longer). For many families , there is no more extension -everyone has been wiped out.

At the university I’m slowly discovering things aren’t that great for our young women students. Rumor is that many of them are being blackmailed after being photographed kissing or holding hands with a guy (this is almost the equivalent of porn)- this is all terribly ironic since the men are unbelievably affectionate with each other, kissing an dhugging each other in greeting constantly. Posted in the women’s bathroom is a flyer urging women to join a new “self-help” group.

My student T, whose parents hosted me in Herat wanted to follow in the footsteps of her doctor parents but didn't make the grade. She has a great sense of style and is always beautifully dressed beautifully- I suggested she consider fashion design. She told me that since her father is Pashtun, the only career options open to her as a woman are doctor or teacher and since she's not interested in the latter, she has no alternative but to return home after she finishes school. And get married? I ask. I hate marriage, she says.

I still love being here. Sometimes I even feel like I’m making a dif. I had my English comp students write an essay comparing their childhoods with those of the street kids; they all came back with essentially the same draft that said how lucky they were to have loving parents, enough food , education while street kids had no food, school or parents- I sent them back out with instructions to interview a specific kid and to my great delight, they got it! They came back with sweet real stories.

We have now progressed to argumentive essays and today (April 21) we discussed (in dif classes) as possible topics: the Shia ''Rape'' law; increased US troops; effectiveness of international aide; negotiation with Taliban and discrimination vs women. After class 2 guys who had been laughing in the back told me that during orientation students had been instructed never to talk about politics or religion.