NGK Fellowship: Destination Afghanistan

Walking in Kabul has got to be one of my scariest experiences. I can trace this fear to internal and external reasons. Internally, I would attribute much of the problem to information. My problem really stems from being “over-informed”. I read every single book on Afghanistan from “The book seller of Kabul” to “Kite-runner”. Unfortunately, in those books are images of…let’s say…flawed, and in some cases, brutal Afghan men. Also, those books span different eras of Afghanistan’s history, including the oppressive time of the Taliban rule. As a result, when I walk on the street, I see the severity in the eyes of many men. This severity is understandable given that Afghan people have seen about 25 years of war. In that time, many people have buried children, families and constantly experienced the psychological state of displacement, fear, uncertainty. There are a very few incidences that I see men with “kind eyes”…in the times that I actually look up.

About looking up…thanks to the books and my sheer fear, I decided that walking with my eyes on the ground, not making any eye contact is the safest way to journey while walking in Afghanistan. I figured that a lowered head, eyes to the ground depicts subservience. Now, as an educated woman, I need to do better; however, I cannot get myself to look at people on the street (most people on the street are men) for an extended period . Besides, staring is rude in some cultures and I am not sure if that is the case here (and I am not about to find out).

When I ask Fahim, my co-worker-turned-tour-guide, he tells me there is no problem…when I ask if my sleeves are long enough, he says “yes, women wear even shorter sleeves”. Yet when I look around, EVERYBODY, man or woman, has long sleeves (did I add that Fahim was also wearing long sleeves…). His words offer no comfort at all. What does he know about being a foreign woman…who happens to be black. I am not one to play the race card, but I can’t help but think that the reason why EVERYBODY stares at me when I walk, is not just because I am a foreigner, but is also because I am black. Even a woman in her burka stopped and turned around to stare at me! How did I know?…I was looking at her (I really am intrigued by these faceless women/mothers—topic for another day)…

Externally, my perceptions are not helped by the sheer number of armed men on the street. I took a walk to the City Center, Kabul’s mall. During my 15 minute walk, I counted about 27 men with guns, Kalashnikov, AK-47 assault rifles–granted, many foreigners live in the area. However, for someone who is familiar with armed soldiers in Nigeria, it was still extremely disturbing. These men all have guns. Let me remind you that with a gun one only needs to aim and pull and thus ends a life. You can imagine the scenarios that go through my mind as a woman, a foreigner, a black woman when I pass the 27 men with AK-47s that may be having a rough day and need a reason to vent…

I have been in Kabul for about 13 day, I have gone for only three walks (the other times I’m in a car) I figure that the more adjusted I get, the better my sense of comfort as I get accustomed to my new home-away-from-home.

Hey all,
 It has been a while, I am trying to pace myself and write only twice a week. I think you were getting over loaded with the Kabul stories. So much has happened in the last few days. I have been here for a little over a week and it seems I have been here much longer. In that time I have experienced A LOT
Close call
I will be sending a blog in the coming days about my experience walking on the streets of Kabul. I took a walk some days ago and marveled at the number of uniformed and un-uniformed men with guns. These guns are really big too, almost like a message…probably a message.
Anyhow, yesterday we were almost taken out by one of these huge guns. My host and I went to see one of the old palace ruins. The road to the ruin was a windy uphill road, on one of those Kabul hills/mountains I love so much. As usual I brought out my camera taking all kinds of shots. Close to the mountain was a camp, and on it a military station, with a man (and his gun) waving at me. I figured he was saying “no taking pictures”. My host didn’t see this man, and we drove to the palace ruins. Apparently, in the last month it had been taken over by the military and the sign read, “Military zone. No taking pictures of surveillance, installations, or military personnel. Offenders will be detained”. I read the sign to my host who had not seen it and we had a discussion of what “installations” were. Meanwhile, I was contemplating jail time in Kabul prison, since offenders would be detained. While this was going on, I guess we had stayed on that parking spot for too long, because that waving military guy and another man came running at us with their guns! Oh my goodness, my heart was skipping, jumping, dancing, but I stayed calm. Fortunately, my host saw him and told the driver to keep moving. The driver moved slowly, I think to indicate that we meant no harm. As we proceeded down the windy road, two trucks, TWO TRUCKS, or military men were driving  up hill…I think they were coming to get us. We proceeded even slower as we passed them and made it safely AWAY from the situation. Wow, I thought my host and I need to be more careful.
There are lots of signs in Kabul that have a camera with a red sign across [no taking pictures]. Prior to this experience, my plan was to take a picture of a sign that says “no camera”…but after yesterday, I have aborted that mission.
My adventures continue….I will keep you posted.