Saturday, May 30, 2009
Travelling around Balkh province
I am back from the trip to Balkh region. My job there is to compile eight photo 
reportages of schools. Those reportages will be shared between four countries: Estonia, Slovakia, Britain and Sweden. It was quite tricky to giv
e agree because it is impossible to know if there is a possibility to take photos and what kind of stories one will find.
For example on one day we had to travel for four hours (and four hours back) to a remote village called Keshendi. There was no warm welcome – we were met by really mistrusting male teachers. There is a mixed school there, just the first shift is for girls. No pictures of female students or even of our village, the teachers stated. All female studen
ts were sent out of the school, under the shadow of the nearby foothill. One can imagine how it is to interview one hundred ladies when six male teachers are around, trying to answer all the questions themselves? At least I was able to talk to one boy and I took some photos of boys in classes…
This trip has been most exhausting I have ever experienced in Afghanistan - up to eight hours of driving per day on bumpy roads. But there were beautiful landscapes around: lush green areas on the bank of Balkh river and (every kind of green) hills near Keshendi. There has been a lot of rain this year, so the poppies and other small flowers color grasslands. For the first time here I saw a fox and I also got a glimpse of my favorite bird in Afghanistan - bright blue beauty named kabutar in Dari.
I was lucky to be accompanied to these villages by experts from Swedish Committee for Afghanistan. The committee has an excellent reputation among Afghans because of the splendid work they have done for education and health during the last 30 years. No doubt, their reputation is deserved.
After every workday, back in Mazar-e Sharif, I walked to Hazrat Ali shrine. I think that is the most peaceful place in this country: I have not seen any other place where the men pray in front of the medrese, females enjoying a gossip while sitting together and children running around at the same time. And everybody likes beautiful white doves at the courtyard of the shrine (have a look at my Kabul Diary archive from December 2006)
reportages of schools. Those reportages will be shared between four countries: Estonia, Slovakia, Britain and Sweden. It was quite tricky to giv
e agree because it is impossible to know if there is a possibility to take photos and what kind of stories one will find.For example on one day we had to travel for four hours (and four hours back) to a remote village called Keshendi. There was no warm welcome – we were met by really mistrusting male teachers. There is a mixed school there, just the first shift is for girls. No pictures of female students or even of our village, the teachers stated. All female studen
ts were sent out of the school, under the shadow of the nearby foothill. One can imagine how it is to interview one hundred ladies when six male teachers are around, trying to answer all the questions themselves? At least I was able to talk to one boy and I took some photos of boys in classes…
This trip has been most exhausting I have ever experienced in Afghanistan - up to eight hours of driving per day on bumpy roads. But there were beautiful landscapes around: lush green areas on the bank of Balkh river and (every kind of green) hills near Keshendi. There has been a lot of rain this year, so the poppies and other small flowers color grasslands. For the first time here I saw a fox and I also got a glimpse of my favorite bird in Afghanistan - bright blue beauty named kabutar in Dari.
I was lucky to be accompanied to these villages by experts from Swedish Committee for Afghanistan. The committee has an excellent reputation among Afghans because of the splendid work they have done for education and health during the last 30 years. No doubt, their reputation is deserved.
After every workday, back in Mazar-e Sharif, I walked to Hazrat Ali shrine. I think that is the most peaceful place in this country: I have not seen any other place where the men pray in front of the medrese, females enjoying a gossip while sitting together and children running around at the same time. And everybody likes beautiful white doves at the courtyard of the shrine (have a look at my Kabul Diary archive from December 2006)
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The life of the international community in Afghanistan is ruled by security companies
I like the story of Shah Massoud as told by captain Attayee. They were friends, both from Pansjir V
alley (I have seen photos of them together that were taken in our garden). Our landlord complained: “He visited me, accompanied by an army of men. Our neighbors didn’t like it, neither did my family. How can you be relaxe
d, surrounded by so many soldiers? I asked one of our friends (please note this small detail: it is not polite to ask directly) to beg Shah Massoud to leave his army behind. Next time he came together with couple of guys. But when I looked outside – there were 15 armed soldiers behind the gate...”
Every day I visit the nearby guesthouse in order to check my emails. The boring guards always ask me to open my bag in order to check the content. Da baks computar dorum, inja internet kar dorum - tufang nadorum, khatarnak nes - khoredja astum. I have a computer in my bag, I need to use internet here, I do not have a gun, I am not dangerous – I am a foreigner, I repeat my mantra every time until the day I refused to open my bag. What the hell – has anybody heard of a for
eigner lady, who is walking around, bombs in her hand bag?
After my refusal the guards start to treat me with some respect. They
just answer my greetings and open the huge metal doors without asking anything. Sometimes I see there guests, women wrapped in shawls and men wearing pullet-proof vests. They climb quickly into their huge white jeeps bearing UN signs. They look towards me in confusion while I walk away.
We have discussed the security issues with our friends. We came to a conclusion that to a large extent the security rules do not make sense. It is just a big business. Security companies have to pay an annual tax of 5000 dollars to get registered. Every guard with Kalashnikov is paid about 250 dollars per month - and one guy is never enough, but at least four are needed. We were told that the American University is spending 46% of their budget on security measures. Does it make sense?
I call briefly my mother to tell her that next week I am planning to travel to north of Afghanistan. Unexpectedly for
me she responds: please do not go because the situation in Afghanistan is so bad! I and my husband, we look at each other in 
confusion. I try to explain that our understanding is different: for a quite a long time the situation in Kabul has been rather peaceful. My mother’s „objective” understanding of the situation is based on the news broadcasted in Estonia. How can I explain that if something is happening far away from Kabul then it does not affect us?
Every day I receive security messages. Many people seem to emphasize the number of incidents instead of trying to look deeper. It is quite obvious, that some parts of Afghanistan should be avoided. And there are some places (for example – governmental buildings) and people (important politicians, international soldiers) that should be avoided in Kabul as well. Otherwise it is quite safe.
Anyway, the security companies have promoted the situation in which major parts of
international civilian community stay inside barb-wired compounds under the watchful eyes
. I visit a house, which is rent by my husband’s colleagues. It is a nice well-kept house in the middle of a rose garden. But the walls are edged by shining barb-wires – it is a costly advice of a security company. Before the house looked like any other on that street, but now there is a clear message: attention please, this house is rent by foreigners! It cost more than 2000 dollars to install the barb-wire, but the price of wire cutters is probably 10 dollars...
In this blog entry you can see the photos that were taken at a market place behind the mosque named Pul-i Khesti. I invited along Inger, my former employer, to join me for a walk. She can afford to behave rebelliously as she is about to leave the country. Otherwise she risks being sent home for breaking the security rules.
Inger and I, we enjoyed the visit: the market is a place where Afghans among oth
er things trade, drink tea, read books, play games, share gossip, eat keba
b and even sleep. Cheap manufactured goods from China, Pakistan and Russia are on sale, also the huge piles of local rice, raisins, nuts and beans. We followed the flow of the crowd through the narrow labyrinths. After two-hours-long-crushing we head back to our car, full of emotions. It is not possible to visit the authentic place like Kabul old city bazaar by a car.
alley (I have seen photos of them together that were taken in our garden). Our landlord complained: “He visited me, accompanied by an army of men. Our neighbors didn’t like it, neither did my family. How can you be relaxe
d, surrounded by so many soldiers? I asked one of our friends (please note this small detail: it is not polite to ask directly) to beg Shah Massoud to leave his army behind. Next time he came together with couple of guys. But when I looked outside – there were 15 armed soldiers behind the gate...”Every day I visit the nearby guesthouse in order to check my emails. The boring guards always ask me to open my bag in order to check the content. Da baks computar dorum, inja internet kar dorum - tufang nadorum, khatarnak nes - khoredja astum. I have a computer in my bag, I need to use internet here, I do not have a gun, I am not dangerous – I am a foreigner, I repeat my mantra every time until the day I refused to open my bag. What the hell – has anybody heard of a for
eigner lady, who is walking around, bombs in her hand bag?After my refusal the guards start to treat me with some respect. They
just answer my greetings and open the huge metal doors without asking anything. Sometimes I see there guests, women wrapped in shawls and men wearing pullet-proof vests. They climb quickly into their huge white jeeps bearing UN signs. They look towards me in confusion while I walk away.We have discussed the security issues with our friends. We came to a conclusion that to a large extent the security rules do not make sense. It is just a big business. Security companies have to pay an annual tax of 5000 dollars to get registered. Every guard with Kalashnikov is paid about 250 dollars per month - and one guy is never enough, but at least four are needed. We were told that the American University is spending 46% of their budget on security measures. Does it make sense?
I call briefly my mother to tell her that next week I am planning to travel to north of Afghanistan. Unexpectedly for
me she responds: please do not go because the situation in Afghanistan is so bad! I and my husband, we look at each other in 
confusion. I try to explain that our understanding is different: for a quite a long time the situation in Kabul has been rather peaceful. My mother’s „objective” understanding of the situation is based on the news broadcasted in Estonia. How can I explain that if something is happening far away from Kabul then it does not affect us?Every day I receive security messages. Many people seem to emphasize the number of incidents instead of trying to look deeper. It is quite obvious, that some parts of Afghanistan should be avoided. And there are some places (for example – governmental buildings) and people (important politicians, international soldiers) that should be avoided in Kabul as well. Otherwise it is quite safe.
Anyway, the security companies have promoted the situation in which major parts of
international civilian community stay inside barb-wired compounds under the watchful eyes
. I visit a house, which is rent by my husband’s colleagues. It is a nice well-kept house in the middle of a rose garden. But the walls are edged by shining barb-wires – it is a costly advice of a security company. Before the house looked like any other on that street, but now there is a clear message: attention please, this house is rent by foreigners! It cost more than 2000 dollars to install the barb-wire, but the price of wire cutters is probably 10 dollars...In this blog entry you can see the photos that were taken at a market place behind the mosque named Pul-i Khesti. I invited along Inger, my former employer, to join me for a walk. She can afford to behave rebelliously as she is about to leave the country. Otherwise she risks being sent home for breaking the security rules.
Inger and I, we enjoyed the visit: the market is a place where Afghans among oth
er things trade, drink tea, read books, play games, share gossip, eat keba
b and even sleep. Cheap manufactured goods from China, Pakistan and Russia are on sale, also the huge piles of local rice, raisins, nuts and beans. We followed the flow of the crowd through the narrow labyrinths. After two-hours-long-crushing we head back to our car, full of emotions. It is not possible to visit the authentic place like Kabul old city bazaar by a car.Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Visiting a morning prayer of Sufis
After finishing my coffee at 5 a.m., I am ready to join our Afghan friend Karim. We are heading to mosque Shah-e do 
Shamshera (Mosque of the King of Two Swords in English), which was built by order of King Amanullah's (r. 1919-1929). Karim invites me to partake in the ritual of Sufis - simplest way to describe them is t
o call them Islamic mystics. The father-in-law of Karim was a well-known Sufi - leader in Afghanistan. We had planned to visit him, but unfortunately he passed away before it happened. Now the brother of Karim’s wife Farzana is the new leader.
The biggest Sufi ceremonies in Kabul are held on Wednesdays after the regular Morning Prayer, explains Karim to me. Women are not supposed to enter to mosques in Afghanistan, but Sufis are more liberal. Later I discover two ladies in the corner of the mosque. They lift their burkas to peek around and point to the carpet next to them in order to invite me to join them.
I liked Shah-e do Shamshera the first time I saw it three years ago. It is a small elegant building, which is different from otherwise titanic standards in Kabul. It is always surrounded by a crowd of prayers, street vendors and public buses. Unfortunately the traffic from one of the main streets was
diverted past the building. Now the narrow street is in constant chaos.
We arrive when the Morning Prayer just started. The doorways of the mosque are jammed by Afghans. Inside there is not
enough space, prayers outside can hear the mullah’s speech through loudspeakers while standing on the street or sitting on the bank of the Kabul River. There are lots of doves flying around. They are being fed by the prayers and vendors. Some people just hand few afghanis from the car window to a vendor who then hurls the seeds to the doves. After a while the mullah finished his speech and everyone in sight froze in order to pray.
Karim invites me to a small garden just across the street - Ziarat-i-Shah-do-Shamshira. According to Nancy Hatch Dupree, early Islamic sources tell us that in the 7th century, when Islam first entered Kabul, there was a very important Hindu temple. The Ziriat is dedicated to the memory of an early Islamic commander who fell here during a fierce battle against the Hindus, fighting with a sword in each hand.
Karim wants me to go inside the tiny crypt, but some of the visitors there object. Still other people kindly show me a green light. Karim wants to argue in order to get me inside, but I ask him not to proceed. I see no reason for debate just because of my curiosity.
Meanwhile most of th
e crowd had vanished from around the mosque and the doorkeeper waves us in. I take off my boots in order to place them on the top of shoes piled up next to the doorway. I am still skeptical about Karim’s idea to enter the mosque, so I ask cautiously: Edžoza as? (Can I?) Permission is given and I enter the lovely hall.
It is difficult for me to describe the ritual. The singing part alternates with reciting of the texts. Sharp rhythm repeats ag
ain and again until some kind of catharsis arrives. It reminds me of a flowing river: the prayers undulate as waves and some hands rise in ecstasy. I would like to follow the ritual until the end when Sufis start to whirl, but we have to leave because it is getting too late. Soon the working day will begin. I am looking forward to visit next Friday when with Karim I can visit the meetinghouse of Sufis – now my curiosity has increased and I want to see the entire ritual.
Shamshera (Mosque of the King of Two Swords in English), which was built by order of King Amanullah's (r. 1919-1929). Karim invites me to partake in the ritual of Sufis - simplest way to describe them is t
o call them Islamic mystics. The father-in-law of Karim was a well-known Sufi - leader in Afghanistan. We had planned to visit him, but unfortunately he passed away before it happened. Now the brother of Karim’s wife Farzana is the new leader.The biggest Sufi ceremonies in Kabul are held on Wednesdays after the regular Morning Prayer, explains Karim to me. Women are not supposed to enter to mosques in Afghanistan, but Sufis are more liberal. Later I discover two ladies in the corner of the mosque. They lift their burkas to peek around and point to the carpet next to them in order to invite me to join them.
I liked Shah-e do Shamshera the first time I saw it three years ago. It is a small elegant building, which is different from otherwise titanic standards in Kabul. It is always surrounded by a crowd of prayers, street vendors and public buses. Unfortunately the traffic from one of the main streets was
diverted past the building. Now the narrow street is in constant chaos.We arrive when the Morning Prayer just started. The doorways of the mosque are jammed by Afghans. Inside there is not
enough space, prayers outside can hear the mullah’s speech through loudspeakers while standing on the street or sitting on the bank of the Kabul River. There are lots of doves flying around. They are being fed by the prayers and vendors. Some people just hand few afghanis from the car window to a vendor who then hurls the seeds to the doves. After a while the mullah finished his speech and everyone in sight froze in order to pray.Karim invites me to a small garden just across the street - Ziarat-i-Shah-do-Shamshira. According to Nancy Hatch Dupree, early Islamic sources tell us that in the 7th century, when Islam first entered Kabul, there was a very important Hindu temple. The Ziriat is dedicated to the memory of an early Islamic commander who fell here during a fierce battle against the Hindus, fighting with a sword in each hand.
Karim wants me to go inside the tiny crypt, but some of the visitors there object. Still other people kindly show me a green light. Karim wants to argue in order to get me inside, but I ask him not to proceed. I see no reason for debate just because of my curiosity.
Meanwhile most of th
e crowd had vanished from around the mosque and the doorkeeper waves us in. I take off my boots in order to place them on the top of shoes piled up next to the doorway. I am still skeptical about Karim’s idea to enter the mosque, so I ask cautiously: Edžoza as? (Can I?) Permission is given and I enter the lovely hall.It is difficult for me to describe the ritual. The singing part alternates with reciting of the texts. Sharp rhythm repeats ag
ain and again until some kind of catharsis arrives. It reminds me of a flowing river: the prayers undulate as waves and some hands rise in ecstasy. I would like to follow the ritual until the end when Sufis start to whirl, but we have to leave because it is getting too late. Soon the working day will begin. I am looking forward to visit next Friday when with Karim I can visit the meetinghouse of Sufis – now my curiosity has increased and I want to see the entire ritual.Monday, May 11, 2009
Are Afghans the most photogenic nation in the world?
Last week we had a great possibility to meet Steve McCurry, the photographer who 24 years ago took a picture of an Afghan girl for the National Geographic magazine. The rest is a well-known history: the photo of the refugee girl with heavenly looks became a hit around the world, published in tens of millions. Years later McCurry went back to the region in order t
o find his model and miraculously they met again – he by now a worldwide known photographer and her a strict looking woman.
The McCurry’s presentation took place at the American Institute for Afghanistan Studies. We have been guests here before: we attended a lecture on tombstones and another one
about the Durand Line. Once we watched here the first Afghan movie. Dating back to 1946, it is a funny piece of art mirroring the tastes of Bollywood: a naive love story with dancing and singing!
I liked the informal presentation by Steve. He showed us his pictures he had taken during his many visits to Afghanistan, explaining the stories behind the photos: sometimes he liked the colours or it was just a wonderful moment or many fabulous portraits. The audience was small (the meeting was announced only three hours before – it is difficult to respond so quickly in Kabul), so everybody had a possibility to ask questions.
During my stay in Afghanistan, I got the feeling that many Afghans have a
very special - even ancient – look about them. They have is some kind of depth what feels 
sometimes almost desperate : I have not taken photos for months back at home, but I feel like a „photoholic” in Afghanistan. So I was happy to hear from Steve McCurry who has travelled around the world: probably Afghans have most photogenic faces I have ever seen, he argued.
During McCurry’s presentation I got a feeling that we have met before. It seemed to be impossible until he showed some pictures of Band-e Amir lakes. I had a flashback: me and my husband met him on the beach of Band-e Haibat, the biggest lake. He introduced himself as a journalist Steve from National Geographic. He looked at our tent and made a sarcastic joke that one can write two phrases on our tent: “kill me” and “rape me”. (For more read the Kabul Diary archives for June 2007)
Monday, May 04, 2009
Does the number of picnics match the living standards of Afghans?
Waiting for kebab, we lodge on a wooden platform just above the foaming Paghman River. Definitely it is now the most beautiful season in Afghanistan. Under trees full of pale white blosso
ms, everybody seems so relaxed: men smoking water pipes, giggling women, young football players, dressed in pink shalwar khameezes. This year the spring is different: there has been a lot of rain and it is now very green. Good crop is expected.
I am back in Afghanistan for a month. It is exciting to be here: to settle down again in “our” lovely garden house at an Afghan family compound, to meet our Kabul friends (both Afghans and internationals), to visit familiar shops on Chicken Street. Sad part is that after one and a half year my Dari language has almost vanished. At first I struggle even with the words for vegetables: Bubakshed, ba dari chi megan? – sorry, how do you call it in Dari?
We have a very special guest at our first picnic in Paghman: my husband’s former driver Karim, who has been our good friend for a long time. He had helped us with everyday problems (and believe me, there are a lot of minor headaches in Kabul). Even more, often he spent his only off days – Fridays - in order to wander together with us around Kargha Lake or at some othe
r lovely place close to Kabul. Sometimes he took along with him some of his lovely children, but never his wife. For Farzana it is not acceptable to go out in a company of a foreign man, my husband. But as a woman I have been lucky to meet her: I was invited as Farzana’s guest into a traditional wedding party at their house (sorry, no pictures).
Karim found a new job that matches better his qualifications, as once he studied law at Kabul University. Now he is working for an NGO as an attorney in order to help Afghans in prisons. His job is quite complicated: there are laws made by the government, but he has to consider the laws of Islam as well. But so far he seems to be much more satisfied as
I have ever seen him: his wife is happy with his improved reputation and four of his children are studying in a private school (the smallest one is still at home).
We walk up by the river away from the picnic area. We have done it before, but every time the walk has been different.
This time the road upstream is under water. Some cars (full of young modern Afghans) race through the water, so we have to cling to the rocks alongside.
I notice that there are now many more picnic areas when compared to the season three years ago. The terraces, once King’s gardens, are full of people again. A playground has been built for children and the ruins are turned into a mosque. “There are now more wealthy Afghans who can afford to go for a picnic,” is Karim’s opinion. Just so you know: we paid $10 for the kebab, tea and yogurt.
ms, everybody seems so relaxed: men smoking water pipes, giggling women, young football players, dressed in pink shalwar khameezes. This year the spring is different: there has been a lot of rain and it is now very green. Good crop is expected.I am back in Afghanistan for a month. It is exciting to be here: to settle down again in “our” lovely garden house at an Afghan family compound, to meet our Kabul friends (both Afghans and internationals), to visit familiar shops on Chicken Street. Sad part is that after one and a half year my Dari language has almost vanished. At first I struggle even with the words for vegetables: Bubakshed, ba dari chi megan? – sorry, how do you call it in Dari?
We have a very special guest at our first picnic in Paghman: my husband’s former driver Karim, who has been our good friend for a long time. He had helped us with everyday problems (and believe me, there are a lot of minor headaches in Kabul). Even more, often he spent his only off days – Fridays - in order to wander together with us around Kargha Lake or at some othe
r lovely place close to Kabul. Sometimes he took along with him some of his lovely children, but never his wife. For Farzana it is not acceptable to go out in a company of a foreign man, my husband. But as a woman I have been lucky to meet her: I was invited as Farzana’s guest into a traditional wedding party at their house (sorry, no pictures).Karim found a new job that matches better his qualifications, as once he studied law at Kabul University. Now he is working for an NGO as an attorney in order to help Afghans in prisons. His job is quite complicated: there are laws made by the government, but he has to consider the laws of Islam as well. But so far he seems to be much more satisfied as
I have ever seen him: his wife is happy with his improved reputation and four of his children are studying in a private school (the smallest one is still at home).We walk up by the river away from the picnic area. We have done it before, but every time the walk has been different.
This time the road upstream is under water. Some cars (full of young modern Afghans) race through the water, so we have to cling to the rocks alongside.I notice that there are now many more picnic areas when compared to the season three years ago. The terraces, once King’s gardens, are full of people again. A playground has been built for children and the ruins are turned into a mosque. “There are now more wealthy Afghans who can afford to go for a picnic,” is Karim’s opinion. Just so you know: we paid $10 for the kebab, tea and yogurt.
