Dust Storms and Basketball

Living on the other side of the world, we got to watch the USA Men's gold winning performance live without loosing sleep today (basketball and volleyball).  The basketball game started at 11:30 AM for us and was just as nerve racking from the all the way in Afghanistan.  There are times in life when we realize that we are like our parents.  As I paced our lounge for the entire 4th quarter, I suddenly realized, "This is just like my dad.  I'm Bill Pandiani."  Not that being like my dad is a bad thing.  I always remember being in the stands, watching Dad coach basketball while pacing the bench or squatting on the floor. . . Apparently some of that's genetic.  And it made me miss that Italian.

But this post isn't about me missing my family, which is setting in more now that I'm realizing we're not visiting Kabul but living here.

We've officially been Kabul residents for over and month now.  I feel like we're both adjusting and that we're starting to feel more at home here.  Right now, Joey is kicking the soccer ball around the yard with Gulrahman and I just finished drinking my latte (very home-like things for both of us).  An hour ago we couldn't have done either of these things.  Right after the games, the power turned off because the generator had run out of water and it suddenly got very, very dark outside.  Our clear blue day was gone in seconds with high winds and dust everywhere.  Then it started to rain.  We quickly shut all the windows which were open because the power was off, although not fast enough to prevent a layer covering on everything in our house.  Fast forward an hour later and the generator is fixed, the power is on, my espresso machine is working, and the skies are blue again.

Here are some during and after pictures from the storm:

It's interesting to look at the things that I miss and the things I'm getting used to after just a month of being gone.  Like sandwiches, every time we watch an American TV show on DVD it seems like people are eating sandwiches and I want one.  Sliced bread is a little hard to find, deli style meat doesn't exist.  I also miss "to go" boxes, cups, etc.  When Afghans go out to eat, they eat a lot and don't leave much on the plate.  I cannot put away a pound of rice in one sitting and wouldn't mind taking some home.  But I suppose in a country where little is wasted or thrown away and what is tossed is usually tossed in the river; it's probably a good thing that they don't have to go boxes.  Joey misses tamales, tortillas and frijoles negros.  And people, we miss people.  There are so many incidents, stories and experiences that I want to tell a specific person right way.  I find myself thinking "Anya would have died laughing if she saw this," "Ailsa would be infuriated by this," "I want to discuss this with Kristalyn," or the most popular "I could really use a hug from Mary, Sarah, Pam, (fill in name here)."

But despite missing people, we are adjusting and really like it here.  Examples of adjustment:

On our way to our favorite coffee shop this weekend (Thursday-Friday), I was shocked to see an Afghan woman driving a car without a chador.  She must have been Afghan-American or something like that because a woman, especially an Afghan, driving a car is unheard of.  Going around without a chador can get you deported.  I wasn't the only one that noticed as every car that passed slowed to stare.

While watching TV, I felt slightly embarrassed when we flipped past a Indian channel with women doing aerobics in tighter pants and sleeveless tops.  Joey and I laughed as we realized that these women would be considered fully dressed in the states and women on TV back home often wear much less.

Although we're getting used to it, sometimes we still can't believe we live here.  We went to a friend's house for dinner tonight and while driving home Joey turned to me and said, "Can you believe we really live in Afghanistan?"  I think we'll be saying that as long as we live here.

Why blogging in Afghanistan can be difficult

At times I have trouble knowing what to write about on this blog.  It's not for lack of material.  There is always some new experience, some difference in culture, some adjustment or some piece of news that I itch to share (and sometimes literally itch.  Have I mentioned that I am currently waging a war with bed bugs?  I'm winning).  Afghanistan has a lot going on that I want to write about.  The problem is that it is tough to choose what direction to go in.  I often find myself sitting at my laptop thinking "Where do I even begin?"  Between the new experiences and fun adventures there are a lot of hard topics and frustrating issues.  Moving here has put me into a very new context.  At times I feel like everything here is completely different.  Some of it just takes getting used to (like the call to prayer five times a day) and some of it I don't ever want to get used to (like seeing women ride in the trunk of cars because there isn't room inside the car with the men).  I really want people to get an idea of what life is like here, but somedays it seems that there is too much to even give a glimpse.  And that's where things get difficult.  How do I even begin to show and share this place that is so full of beauty, tragedy, misunderstanding, hopefulness and hopelessness?

My step-lady, Mary, used to make us do this thing at the dinner table to get us to talk about our day.  We had to share something funny, sad, good, bad, and beautiful that had happened that day.  Alison's were always great.  I think that on days when I feel that blogging in Afghanistan is too difficult, f.s.g.b.b. is a good way to share a little about life here.  So here it is for today:

Funny:  Although streets in Afghanistan don't have names, they are often known by what they sell.  Flower Street sells flowers.  Chicken Street used to sell chickens, now it's where you go to buy Afghan tourist items. . . business isn't so good right now.  Stationary Street sells stationary.  Today we ended up on Plumber Street, lots of porcelain and piping.

Sad: There are a lot of beggars in Afghanistan.  It's heartbreaking to see women in torn burqas sitting on the side of the road with a hand outstretched.  It's heartbreaking to see mine victims with missing limbs begging outside the Red Crescent (Red Cross) offices.  It's heartbreaking to see women carrying unconscious children in their arms while they beg and knowing that they probably dropped the child to illicit more sympathy.  These are all things I saw today while driving downtown.

Good: Our housemates are great and we are really enjoying sharing an apartment with them.  Last night we all sat out and enjoyed the cooler weather and tried to solve the problems of the world (we didn't succeed).  Today Sari and I went shopping as we're both in the process of building our Afghan wardrobes.  We are so glad that we live and work with people that are laid back and adaptable, just like us.

Bad: On Wednesday, three international aid workers and their driver were killed in the Logar province south of Kabul.  The Taliban have claimed responsibility saying they thought it was a military vehicle and that the women were soldiers.  The incident has caused increased tension and security within the international community throughout the country.

Beautiful: The dust has settled, the weather has cooled, the sky is blue, and it's supposed to rain tonight! These are beautiful things.

The Blue Mosque

There are not many tourists in Afghanistan.  When I emailed someone that we were going sightseeing they responded, "Can you do that in Afghanistan?"  Apparently the answer is yes because on our first full day we had a chance to fly up to Mazar-e-Sharif with the other Dynamic employees and have a look around (see map link for location).  

As with most of the country, Mazar-e-Sharif has seen it's share of battles from Ghenghis Khan to the Taliban.  It was one of the last cities to fall to the Taliban and one of the first cities freed (Nov 2001).  Being a stronghold of the Northern Alliance and having a large population of Hazara people and predominately Shia muslims, Mazar-e-Sharif was the scene of some of the most atrocious acts of the Taliban Era.  However, as the first city regained, it is now considered one of the more secure areas in the country.  

The customer being flown had arranged to have a driver waiting at the airport and at our disposal for the day.  We arrived to find an armored car waiting for us complete with security detail.  Not exactly what we had in mind.  Being followed around by a guy with an AK does not make for a day of leisurely sightseeing.  Number 1 safety point, don't look obvious.  Both the guard and driver said they spoke a little English, which usually means they know how to say the phrase "a little."  After making it clear to our guard that he would be staying with the car, we were taken to the Blue Mosque.  We've quickly realized that it is difficult to make concrete plans in Afghanistan; the situation here is fluid at best.  When we arrived at the mosque, there were hundreds and hundreds of people walking through the gates.  Safety point number 2, avoid crowds.  

We called our fixer, Rafi, and asked if he knew of any reason to avoid the mosque.  He asked if the crowd was Hazara, it was.  Then he asked if they looked angry, they didn't.   Then he asked if they were carrying banners, they were.  He said they were either protesting the killing of a group of Hazara by the Kochi tribe (the government has done little to respond. . . but yet again, that's a whole other post), or they were mourning the recent death of one of their leaders.  Since they didn't look angry and weren't protesting the war, he said it was probably safe.  But just to be on the cautious side, he recommended that we take a driving tour of Mazar-e-Sharif and then return to the mosque to see if things had settled.  He told this to our driver, who proceeded to drive around the mosque block about 15 times.  This is when we learned that there isn't much to see in Mazar-e-Sharif besides the mosque.  About lap 10, we realized that the crowd had completely dispersed.  We parked and motioned to the guard to stay and tried to motion to the driver that we would take about an hour at the mosque, and we were off.

A little bit of background, the Blue Mosque is the reason why Mazar-e-Sharif exists.  According to a little legend and a little fact, Muhammad's son-in-law/cousin Ali is buried here.  It is said that his followers placed his body on a white camel after his assassination.  Where the camel stopped would be Ali's resting place.  Most believe he is buried in Najaf Iraq.  However, in the 12th century, it was revealed to a mullah in a dream that Ali was buried near Balkh and the town of Mazar-e-Sharif (Tomb of the Exalted) was founded.  A mosque has stood on this spot ever since. 

I have to say that the Blue Mosque is one of the most impressive sites I have seen.  It is also one of the few mosques in Afghanistan that non-Muslims can visit, or at least enter the courtyard.  The mosque is known for its painted tiles and white doves.  I think the pictures speak for themselves.

Of course, being the only foreigners at the mosque, we garnered quite a bit of attention.  From the moment we entered the gates to the moment we got in the car, we were followed by a group of boys utilizing all the English they knew: Are you tourists? What is your name? What is your father's name? Where are you from? Do you work for the UN? Are you soldiers? Afghanistan, good, yes? Kalishnikov. Can I see your (point at sunglasses, point at cell phones, point at camera)? I have to say that I was impressed with their English.  

As I write this blog post, I realize that there is so much that goes into one day of living in Afghanistan.  It is such a different place than anywhere I have ever lived.  Afghanistan takes a completely new historical and cultural context than what we know. As I write this, the last call to prayer has begun (by our tone deaf mullah across the street). It is impossible to fit each experience into a post without countless explanations and background information.  And of course, I am learning as I go.  As our minds reset, our bodies struggle to adjust.  I currently have a high temperature and have spent the majority of the day in the bathroom.  But, as we are quickly learning, all this is part of life in Afghanistan.