This is a small touristic swing around Herat city and outskirts.
Returning back to Denmark and especially Copenhagen was something of a culture shock which has given me rich occasion to compare life here with the one I and others lead in Afghanistan – this is only normal and certainly for a professional dummy like myself. The shock manifested itself with the town seeming foreign, distant and with an atmosphere that just loomed of social constraints of what to do, how to look and where to be. To me, the sensation of having to fit in was very similar to the one you have when you walk the streets of Kabul without a head scarf. Some of these constraints got to me and have produced some of the thoughts in this letter. It has created a doubt in me that when I return to Kabul, I shall once again need time to adjust…? (that there will be yet another culture shock !) This adjustment being of the same character as the necessary change in behavior and mindset I went through during my first time in Afghanistan: switching off the charm and direct eye/contact, not staring at people and drawing attention to myself.
I wonder whether my coming back to Copenhagen will also have changed something in me regarding my relationship or my way of being towards my afghan boyfriend- for the better or the worse…? Though, I did not go for 5 months and have been in daily contact with Afghanistan, I still believe returning to one’s cultural background – which is so very different – is bound to bring out some personal traits that might not be quite so acceptable on the Afghan cultural/social scene. I probably will feel the need to slowly to readopt to my Kabuli identity.
So, a long time ago I promised to share my impressions and pictures from my trip through the Khyber pass to Islamabad with you. The trip in itself was a bit of a spontaneous idea, which probably made what was already an exciting project, quite a gripping experience! It involved dressing up, taking on the role that your dress signaled, which for my case was that of a local young wife who silently followed her husband’s orders behind the mask of her burqa. My travel companion – who is currently not my husband – was likewise dressed in local gear (a so called Peron Tumbon - a long shirt over loose wide trousers) and successfully completed the illusion of being a young couple on the road! Which was necessary for us, as a young man and woman cannot be seen together here, other than if they are directly related – by either blood or matrimony…
It might appear absurd that one needs to take on other personalities in order to travel on a stretch of road and across a boarder – however, just this particular bit of road and this particular boarder connect two of the most politically unstable provinces in the entire region! And “cultural mistakes”, let’s say, can have fatal effects. One does not want to draw too much attention to oneself, and especially not give away the fact that one is a foreigner – because that can both be a simple provocation to the locals and a direct means of inflicting more severe consequences like kidnappings etc. In addition to this, the roads are also heavily traveled routes – fiercely inspected by ISAF armored vehicles – which just adds to the unsafe condition one is in, while moving between Kabul and Jalabad and Torcham (the boarder).
We traveled with what the locals call a “corolla-car” which is basically a privately owned Toyota Corolla acting like a taxi picking up some four people and then runs back and forth between the one and the other destination. All of this sounding rather Klondike, the trip in itself was spectacular: coiling steep mountain roads taking us over flinty tops and through narrow rocky gorges to wide valleys with strips of green siding the riverbanks. Speeding through alleys of tall tumarux trees with kilometers of water melon vendors on each side all having stacked their good in acrobatic constellations, and passing arid villages where one leaves with the guilty feeling of being privileged and able to flee if the whole thing becomes too much - an option that is just not existing for these people. Life in Eastern Afghanistan away from the occasional oasis-like spots is generally poor and heavily prone by the hot climate that dries out anything and leaves little fertile possibility to grow.
Once one has arrived at the boarder safely the next act initiates. To cross the boarder on foot (some 2 km) without being revealed as what I was – A FOREIGNER – by others than the specific customs officers, who’s business it is to check such things. Things went incredibly smoothly and all of a sudden we were equipped with our own Kalashnikov carrying security guard who then rode with us for the hour, it takes from entering into the North Western Frontier till reaching the capital of the province, Peshawar, through the Khyber Pass! He smoked a joint with the third travel mate and I kept silent, while my “husband” was fuming with rage over the hash being smoked in the car. All in all a very full experience of: absorbing the historic and mythical site, being tense about stepping out of character, and being in such close vicinity to a Pakistani fire arms, feeling slightly car sick from the smoke and the heat (45º) and being anxious to arrive at the final destination – luxurious Islamabad!
Coming from a part of the world and a part of society where the notion of globalisation is widely dominant, celebrated, renounced, – debated. My past week, for my sake, shed new light on this issue of increased interconnectivity and flows of ideas, people materials changing hands and minds. I have spent one more of these intensive weeks in the field.
This time in a village east of Afghanistan’s second largest town, Herat – once the capital of the country.I was introduced to the chairwoman one of the local community development councils (CDC). These CDCs are the main organ through which the National Solidarity Program is implemented. These councils are supposed to be the platform from which the people of rural Afghanistan can have a say in the actual development of their local community, and should serve the needs of both women and men. For this purpose both female and male committees are established. I stayed with this CDC chairwoman’s family.
She was an incredibly strong woman: the mother of three small children whose participation in the CDC work was strongly motivated by the poor conditions under which the majority of people in this region are living – that is to say lack of clean and close drinking water (good wells), electricity, schools or medical clinics in close vicinity, low levels of information and literacy – all of which had become too much for her, thus she was stoutly determined to change things. As an example of this determination: by the help of an initial Dacaar literacy course, she taught herself to read and write, and is now helping her children with their homework.
I spent some three days in their compound which is a typical Afghan family-arrangement. Basically it is living side by side with the parents, brothers and sisters all with the respective families all within one clay walled compound. Here I assisted in their daily activities. However, it was tough to find my place, as each member of the family has a certain role to which certain tasks and responsibilities are implicitly assigned – according to their age, whether brother or sister, father or mother, whether married in or originally a part of the family etc. As for me – I was neither. So…
In order to have fitted more automatically into the daily rhythm of life, it would have been only natural (according to my age) that I was breastfeeding by newly born child and making sure that my other children were at school or doing their chores – however I am neither married, nor am I a mother, in addition to this I am a foreigner who speaks broken Dari and who is quite clearly not used to living according to the local standards – so my inevitable role as the outsider and guest was once again prevailing . In many ways it also seemed that the families, to a certain extent felt embarrassed of their simple means and establishment – which just amplified the gap between us. Though they very willingly wanted to share their stories, hopes for the future and opinions about the current state of affairs – and showed great curiosity towards the place I come from “kshwar-e-tan” – your country. But seldom have I been in a place where “kshwar-e-man” (my country) was so far away from, where I was.
I expect that to the families in Pashtun Zarghun the idea of globalisation is somewhat inconceivable; however the time I spent with them might have been an example of a realization of just this increased interconnectedness. Their attempts to approve life through engaging in the National Solidarity Program (in itself an idea of increasing the national ties) is also an attempt to cling on to a greater process of development – and my being there – a result of this wish to improve – was a concrete symbol of a different life! I am still doubting whether the CDCs bring more empowerment to these women and help them shape better lives right now. However, I do know that these people’s hopes and willpower to have things be different for their children are unyielding. So the question of timing, connection and power, both materially and figuratively speaking, might not be apparent at present – though in due time I wish for these people that the warm waves of “globalization” reaches them and more steadily becomes a part of their lives, so, for example, to be able to cook dinner in the light of an electrical bulb while listening to the radio and understanding what is being spoken about.
These are some examples of what I have explained in the article below – an Afghan birthday party!
As an a aspiring anthropologist it would be wrong of me to begin to describe Afghans as being a homogenous group, all characterized by a number of common traits. However there is a tendency with the Afghans to do this themselves. There seems to be a clear understanding of what it means to be an Afghan, and which description applies to them – often expressed by the exclamation, “I’m Afghan, for God sake!” And of course, all of the interlocutors will thus know what this statement covers!
An example of this Afghan-ness is displayed at festive occasions. Attending Afghan parties is becoming a part of my weekly program, as paradoxical as it might appear!
It is an interesting, but not uncommon, set of facts – that with such narrow channels of accept and tolerance of loud/wild behavior, especially when it comes to male-female interaction, there is also a reaction to the rules and social codes. Thus Afghan parties are recurrent events and do tend to develop into somewhat mad expressions of unused sexual energy! There it was – the generalizing assumption, that restrictive cultures would not show other sides to them! (Though, this statement is made on the basis of very outspoken religious morals and cultural norms).
So to be more concrete, I will tell you of my friend’s birthday party. (Mind you, birthdays are generally not celebrated here at all. Many people do not know their own age either. But as this was a Danish Afghan, we organized a party for him). We were lucky to have some very capable classical Afghan musicians to give a small performance and accompany the evening with their alluring pieces. If any of you are familiar with some northern Indian musical traditions, instruments like the tabla (a set of one bigger and one smaller tin pot drums, with hollow, but deep sounding rhythms) and the rubarb (a funny looking guitar-like instrument with a very fine – even slender, sound to it) and an Afghan key instrument called the harmonia, played like a small piano but powered by air like an accordion. All of this accompanied by the devoted voice of a young boy singing clear tones and making semi-sentimental people like me have tears in our eyes. The music normally starts out very calmly, but becomes more and more exciting, which is when you see the young men get on to the dance floor, well helped by some drops of alcohol. Their dancing is mainly a series of small steps with their arms above their heads, twirling around each other. To some extent one could probably understand this dancing as a distant erotic action, which is accepted here as long as it stays within the male realm, and which is usually the case as parties normally would be segregated here. These guys however, were fairly used to western customs, all having spent time abroad and if there had been more girls there, they would have just been happier, but I spent much time dancing.
So this business of “being Afghan, for God sake!” in terms of festivity, means being able to and allowing oneself to go wild, and make an effort to have fun, despite the usual elements of fun (equal amount of girls and boys, alcohol, loud music) are not always there.
Very unusually I spent a little week in the heart if an Afghan family living in the district of Ghazni. This was a first step towards conducting ethnography on decision making within Afghan families. I wished to observe the daily division of work within the family which could potentially lead me to understand the internal division of authority better. Instead of having them verbally explain their ways of deciding, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to see this in action! Not only seeing, but also participating in their daily activities and in some way, well, helping out in with the chores. So my daily rhythm for the past week has been along the lines of the daily prayer (namaz). That is to say getting up very early, preparing breakfast, then baking bread in the tandoor. Hereafter there would be a time for a rest and talking with the family which would then be followed by preparations for lunch (done crouching on the floor). This could be the making of spinach and green onion stew and meatballs in tomato sauce with rice and naan. Then we would wash clothes (crouching) for some hours and then of course start cooking dinner for the 11 people big house hold. Days largely spent among women, and evenings spent talking/resting in the company of the entire family- men and women.
The family, I stayed with, is said to be somewhat more free – explained by themselves, as due to their ethnic and religious belonging – the so called “bayat” who follow the Shi’a sects beliefs. “Free” in practice, in many ways does not seem so very different from the form of life that some of us know from the West – though here, it can be said to be abnormal. Free in this family meant that the men and women freely interacted, shared meals and bedrooms, accepted to have a foreigner come and in some way question their way of life.
Finally, after having spent a little week in the field, I am able to set some perspective on my Kabuli life that I lead else why. This does not only concern my own life. More generally speaking, a week in a village does of course enhance the differences between life in Kabul – a city with higher living standards and more liberties compared to the more rural Afghanistan. Here life is, as far as I experienced it, more restricted both in terms of the sociocultural norms and world views and practically – no running water nor sanitary installations. The experience was valuable as a preliminary lens to understand more about the conditions and terms under which we carry out our projects. And also to see how far I am from becoming and Afghan – that the differences in life experience and outlook on life are so predominant that learning to understand is perhaps the closest, I would ever get. I suppose the lessons learned are of a personal /professional nature – learning to see my foreign/different position in relation to the place I am studying.
Images of the field in and around Ghazni. I have changed the names for the family’s security.
