Kabul is a city of hustle and bustle. There are few paved roads and no traffic lanes, intersections or traffic lights. Livestock including sheep, goats and camels weave in and out of traffic consisting mostly of old Toyota Corolla Sedans converted to taxicabs while young men in jeans talk on cell phones. It is a cacophony of traditional and modernity. (Camel photo courtesy of Marsha MacColl)

In the Neighborhood, Demazang District

Peace on You

Salam! ("peace") is the Dari way of saying "hello", to which the response is simply salam! This greeting, which means "peace on you", is also used for the other greetings of the day. An extension of this becomes the more traditional Muslim greeting Asalamu alaykum! ("peace on you") to which the formal response is Alaykum asalam ("[and] on you peace!")

Field Trip to Band-e Qargha Lake.

ASCHIANA (meaning “the nest”) is an Afghan Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) that provides services, support and vocational training to street working children in Kabul. In addition to vocational training ASCHIANA offers programs in art, music, drama and story-telling.

Most of the youngsters at ASCHIANA have never been outside of their neighborhood let alone Kabul. Students in the art program create work by copying images from postcards and photographs. One day the staff at ASCHIANA decided to change all of that. Two somewhat dilapidated Pakistani buses were rented for the bargain price of $50. A new supply of pencils, sharpeners, paint brushes, paper and Russian watercolors were purchased from the local stationary store. Two days later, forty-four boys and girls from ASCHIANA’s art program set off on a hastily organized field trip to Band-e Qargha Lake.

a few Dari words

Salam, "Hello."
Dhost, "friend."
Khuda Hafiz, "good-bye."
Chetor ast e?, "How are you?"
Khub astom, "Fine." (pronounced with a silent "k")
Bale, "yes."
Tashakur, "thank you."
Bakhshesh, "bribe".
Mazadar, "delicious".

The Dari language is read and written from right to left. Books are read from back to front. Students study three languages at the A4T schools; Dari, Pashto and English, as well as, the "Quran" the Holy Book of Islam which is written in Arabic.

Dhost-e (friend)

Dhost-e is a very small puppy that lives at the guesthouse. He was dropped over the fence into A4T's yard and Abdul Raman rescued him.
Update from Sandra: I took little Dhost-e today to the vet for his first puppy shots. When I picked him up and explained to Najib (asked his permission) what I was going to do, he said, "What about the other dog?" I told him I'd do Dhost-e first and check out the place and see what it cost, then decide about Babur. Well, the "vet" was completely on the other side of town, on the way to Istalif!!! and it took awhile and an expensive taxi to get there. All the way, Dhost-e didn't move. He just cuddled up and looked around and didn't make a peep . At the vet, they put him on a table (now don't get any ideas like this is a vet's place in the Bay Area) over a dirt floor and quickly administered a shot for some dread disease that is rampant in Afghanistan, and also gave him a dose of Frontline!!! (for fleas) They didn't have the kind that does BOTH fleas and ticks. He sat patiently on the table while the "Dr." filled out a little card for him, and I paid. I'm to take him in again April 30, but I won't be back from India until May 7. I guess I'll take Babur too at that time. Anyway, it was a great outing, and it took nearly the whole afternoon to get back to Damazang, let him off, and get back over here.

Update: Dhost-e has been adopted by Sandra and resides with her in Piedmont, California.

Bakhshesh

Tonight on our way home from Microrayon with Marsha's friend Faisal we were stopped at a police checkpoint. Afghan police are paid about $40 a month and supplement their income with bribes or "bakhshesh". If a man or men are traveling after dark, they are frequently stopped by the police and "shaken down" questioned or detained. If there are women in the car it is allowed to pass through without any problem. Faisal's mother and sister came with us as "security" so that he would not be traveling alone on his way home.

Kabul Vocational and Training Center A4T1

On our first day at A4T Marsha MacColl and I introduced ourselves to the students. Our primary teaching tools were flash cards and children’s songs. Confusion ensued when the A4T English teacher Safia tried to translate “Octopus” and “Iguana” to Dari. Some of the girls prefaced each spelling exercise with “In the name of Allah” prior to spelling the word. The Dari language is read and written from right to left. Books are read from back to front. Students study three languages at the A4T schools; Dari, Pashto and English, as well as, the "Quran" the Holy Book of Islam which is written in Arabic.

The ABC song was a big hit and after numerous tries the girls mastered the stepped up cadence on the section "lmnop". We went on to teach "The Eensy Weensy Spider", "I'm a Little Teapot", “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and finally “Old Lange Signe” as a tribute to the Afghan New Year, Nawrooz.

Each day the cook made us lunch of soup, “naan” (flat bread) and tea. We practiced English with the teachers while we ate. At the close of the first day I told the students "See you tomorrow". "Sure, why not" a girl responded. “As you wish” is another popular English phrase that they all know and use.

The second day our lesson plan was a “how to” guide on writing a letter. I had planned to do a postcard and photograph exchange with the students at Knightsen School in California. It was going pretty smoothly until I got out the Polaroid camera, at which point, pandemonium broke loose. As I should have anticipated the girls were very excited to have their picture taken and weren’t willing to give up the Polaroid’s. The most commonly repeated phrase was “Teacher take my picture!”

On our last day at A4T1, we had planned to have a party. Male staff were sent to the market to purchase cookies, milk and oranges. Afghan children are not accustomed to drinking milk. Tea or "chai" is the drink of choice. The men unwittingly returned with a case of several hundred individual sized cartons of non dairy creamer.

At the end of the school day we were invited to visit the families of three of the students. Marcel, Neelb and Nargaz eagerly accompanied us and Safia, volunteered to translate. At each home we visited with parents and siblings and were treated to tea, cookies and candies. Clearly the families appreciated the opportunity that their daughters had to receive an education.

Janet A4T2 School

Navigating Around Kabul

Last night Sandra, Abdul Raman and I took a taxi to pick up a friend Elinor who was coming for dinner from ASCHIANA (for street working children). Sandra and I don't speak Dari and Abdul Raman and the taxi driver don't speak English. It became quickly apparent that we were lost. So we drive around at random and the driver and Abdul Raman occasionally yell out the window at passersby to see if they know where ASCHIANA is. Meanwhile, Sandra is calling Elinor on her cell phone and Elinor's chokidar (security guard) is trying to give directions to Sandra in Dari. We finally arrive and the chokidar doesn't want to let Elinor go with us and is giving the men the 3rd degree. The taxi driver gets ticked off and kicks us out of the taxi. Abdul Raman flags down another taxi and we navigate back to the guesthouse for dinner. Everything is complicated and takes a long time to accomplish here.

Istalif

The Afghan New Year Nawrooz is observed every year on March 21, the spring equinox. We celebrated with A4T in country director Najib Sedeqe by taking a day trip to Istalif, a village famous for its pottery. On the way back we stopped at a roadside cafe and had lunch. Bemused men looked on as we sat cross legged on raised tables covered in hand woven carpets and dined on beef kebobs, kabuli rice, naan and tea. Bumper to bumper traffic inched slowly back into Kabul. Afghan women and girls in fancy dresses and men in suits visited shrines, flew kites and picnicked on the hillside close to the Intercontinental Hotel.

Sara Hill

It's 11:17 PM and I'm supposed to be getting up early to be at the school by 8:15 AM for teaching. This could be more challenging than I anticipated. Today we spent the day tying up business for the Bare Roots Tree group who were unable to come, paying the gardeners etc. The high point of the day was when we went to a roadside nursery and bought 132 pine trees about 3 feet tall each for $200. We than hired a driver to haul the pine trees up a steep, muddy, potholed road on which we skidded and slid to a place called Sara Hill. The villagers had been promised additional trees if they kept the initial trees alive for a year. The boys ran back and forth unloading the trees from the truck to the walled courtyard. They then took turns shaking my hand and greeting me, "Salaam" which they seemed to get a big charge out of.

Harvesting Pomegranate Trees at the Badam Bagh Nursery in Kabul.

Arrival

I am in Kabul. It's not changed much since last time I was here but has been snowing in the last week or so. Najib Sedeque, A4T Country Director and our guide announced that their are twenty four families living in the bombed out building behind our guesthouse.

Vocational and Training Center in Kabul

During the five year period from 1996-2001, that the Taliban were in power, girls in Afghanistan were not allowed to attend school. Following the fall of the Taliban in 2001, many teen age girls having missed five years of school resumed their studies at the elementary school level.
The burqa, worn by the students in this image, is an all-enveloping outer garment worn by many girls in Afghanistan. It is worn over the clothing and removed when the girls arrive within the safety of the school. It is not required, but in the current conditions of conflict and insecurity, girls who might not otherwise wear the burqa do so as a matter of personal safety.

Tea with the Mujahideen

Istalif, is a village famous for its pottery. Sitting high above the Shomali Plain it offers a panoramic view of the Hindu Kush Mountains. The dirt road back to the main highway is winding and rutted. On our return to Kabul our driver, Farid, pulled off at an overlook so that we could take pictures. As I walked towards a stone wall encircling an abandoned guesthouse, fiddling with the settings on my camera, I looked up and saw a mujahideen soldier carrying a Kalashnikov assault rifle (AK-47).

Najib our guide came along behind and started conversing with the tall, bearded man in the pakol who seemed to be in charge. It was hard to tell what Najib was saying as he was speaking in Dari or Pashtu. After they talked back and forth a bit, the mujahideen agreed to pose for pictures. They then asked Najib if we would like to stay for tea. Two of the men rolled out a large burgundy colored carpet and brought out a silver tray with glass cups and a black and gold colored thermal decanter. We didn't speak a word of Dari except for the bare minimum; "Salam" (hello), "Tashakur" (thank you) and "bakhshesh" (bribe, which we learned at the airport) and they didn't speak a word of English. Former Northern Alliance soldiers they were cautiously optimistic about the Hamid Karzai government. After thirty years of war (Soviet invasion 1979-1989, the Civil War 1989-1995 and the Taliban 1996-2001) the men were tired of fighting.

The visit ended with a tour of a bombed out greenhouse where the mujahideen had built a shrine to assassinated Northern Alliance leader Ahmed Shah Massoud.

Chicken Street

One day as part of our itinerary we visited the tourist shopping district "Chicken Street”. While the men and children often solicited me to have their picture taken, clowning and posing, the women were more reticent. I approached a small group of women in burqas and signaled that I would like to take their picture which they agreed to on the condition that I pay them. As I took the image I was quickly surrounded by a large crowd of women pressing in on me, with hands outstretched shouting "one dollar", "one dollar". Suddenly, a little girl appeared out of nowhere, scattering the women and motioning for me to go into a nearby store. “I will be your bodyguard,” she announced with an impish grin. Anita is one of an estimated 40,000 street working kids in Kabul.

In the Neighborhood, Demazang District

While in Kabul, Afghanistan a friend Ellen and I frequently walked around the Demazang District neighborhood where our guesthouse was located. One afternoon as we paused to photograph a small boy chasing a rooster through a family graveyard, an elderly woman stood at the top of a small hill, shouting in Dari and gesturing excitedly. At first I thought that she was angry with us. Perhaps we had offended her by trespassing or photographing the green Martyr’s flag fluttering above a grave marker. I had left on our unescorted walk filled with bravado. Now out of sight of the guesthouse all of my mother’s pre-trip warnings rushed at me like a pack of wilder beasts. “Chai“, she shouted. And then I understood. In a traditional display of Afghan hospitality, Quandi-Gul had invited us in to share of cup of tea.

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