Strange/funny/disturbing things in Kabul/Afghanistan

Sometimes interesting, sometimes funny or annoying, and sometimes just plain horrible:

1. Almost every car I have seen here is an automatic (oddly), but no Afghan seems to know that. They shift gears in the automatic as if they were driving a stick shift, and no one seems to have gotten the message that this is irritating, unnecessary, and probably bad for the car.

2. 95-98% of cars (this is not an exaggeration) in Kabul are Toyotas, and most of these are Camrys. Why? I have no idea and have not found a good reason for this on the Googles. The majority if not all are imported used cars, with many it seems from Canada (given the maple leaf stickers). The owners often don't remove the bumper stickers, so it is not uncommon to see pro-choice, pro-gay marriage, and Christian fundamentalist stickers (someone here told me of a "In the event of rapture, this vehicle will be unmanned" sticker).

3. An expat woman failing to fully cover her head, or even more crazy and wild, forgetting to cover her head, will guarantee that the police will stop us at a checkpoint. The 17 year old policeman in a uniform at least 1 size too big will then "check" your passport (generally upside down, since most are illiterate) and try to argue that June comes after August (and thus your visa has expired), all the while looking at neither you nor the passport, but rather staring ravenously at the expat woman in the car. When you never see women, apparently the chance to gawk at someone with their head only partially covered is like a private stripshow for these police teenagers. Pretty irritating, for the women particularly.

4. Car crashes are not infrequent, given the crazy crazy traffic and the cars often driving the wrong way up the road. When a crash occurs, generally the people come out and shout at each other, hit the car, and freak out. Then they calm down and drive away, since it's not like they'll be exchanging insurance information. This weekend, however, the results were far more serious. An international convoy struck a civilian car and killed several of its occupants. Afghans rioted, setting the offending car (an armored Suburban) on fire and stoning Westerners. The Afghan police moved in, but not before one of our security guys who was driving by got his windows bashed in and was cut up by the glass (terrifying his family, whom he decided to have visit for the week). We are locked down in the office today, as additional demonstrations have been reported (you can see why Afghans are upset, if they believe the convoy drivers will not be prosecuted for the deaths of the passengers, but the demonstrations have a bad history of turning violent).

5. The convoys. ISAF and Afghan Army convoys are quite a sight. Not only are they massive trucks and armored vehicles with guys in machine gun turrets, but they also halt all traffic. All the civilian cars pull off to the side of the road and look non-threatening as there have been a lot of incidents of nervous soldiers firing on what they thought were suicide bomber vehicles. If you are on a cell phone conversation, your call will be cut off as the convoys all have IED jammers installed that block cell phone signals (as these are often used to trigger IEDs). I would share pictures, but we were warned that trying to take a picture of a convoy is on the list of things that get you shot. So I'll wisely leave this up to your imagination.

6. This is more just disturbing than anything else, but I haven't known where to include it in my posts until know. While Afghans generally disdain and mistreat homosexuals (and often mock each other with the label "gay"), the practice of "bacha bazi", or "boy play" is widespread. The northerners mock Kandahar and the Taliban for this, the Taliban blame the Northern Alliance and recall that they had banned it under their rule, but it seems all sides engage in it behind closed doors (and often not behind closed doors). In short, little boys are forced or hired to dress up in women's clothes, wear make-up, and dance around (since women aren't allowed to dance), then become either willing or unwilling sexual partners for older men. I've heard all sorts of explanations for this, even including that this is a tradition from the time of Alexander the Great and that people are just emulating their great Greek conquerors, but in the end it is just plain awful for these little boys (usually orphans or abandoned by their families). The act is considered acceptable for the older men, who almost always are married to women and have families, but is thought shameful for the little boys. More information.

Nicer stories to come shortly, but just wanted to record some of the things I haven't logged up to now.

Carolina gets 27 points

In case you didn't see the comment, my sister figured out what the horrid demon-spider-scorpion was:

http://www.camelspiders.net/

Pictures of Mazar and the weekend to come soon.

Interesting...

The New York Times provides interesting coverage on the WikiLeaks documents:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/26/world/asia/26warlogs.html?_r=1&hp

I'll save my comments on the WikiLeaks themselves for reasons I'm happy to discuss in person...

Herat Day 2

Woke up, met Afreen and Katy, and went to the amazing Friday mosque. Beyond the scale of the structure and its minarets, the site is imprssive for the range of styles of Islamic art. As your eyes follow the walls they move from clean, simple geometric designs to highly intricate shapes and script. It's hard to describe, so I'll share in pictures:

We then go to see the workshop where the tiles for the restoration of the mosque have been made since the beginning of last century:

After this we went to Sultan Hamidy's shop, where we saw Farouk's bargaining skills at their finest. We all got some (supposedly famous) Herat glass and then went to see it blown next door to the shop:

After hours of purchases and negotiation, we sat down with Sultan Hamidy for tea and silliness, which included his insistence that Farouk dress up for a photo

We then tried our hand at a carpet shop.

Finally it was time to head to the airport. We apparently arrived too early and so waited near a small empty office for an hour. After passing layer 1 of screening, we again were chased by the boys with wheelbarrows who wanted to take our luggage. After walking 300 meters to the actual terminal (and after having had our luggage hand-checked) we went through a metal detector. In the bizarre logic of this place, the 12 inch knife Francisco had bought raised no eyebrows, but they insisted that we check our Herat glass, ensuring its destruction in-flight (update: miraculously only 2 cups shattered, on this flight at least).

The flight was a predictable hour late and we were sad to leave Herat. Before doing so, we met a somewhat sketchy British fellow who had written the companion guide for Herat but was now in the fuel business. He detailed the many ways he had to pay the Taliban and government officials to get fuel to places like Kandahar Air Base. He estimated the total demand in Afghanistan to be 4.7bn liters (making it one of the largest fuel markets in the world), guessed that the security logistics premium was 100%+ over the fuel price, and explained that fuel prices in Afghanistan are generally uncorrelated to world markets because of smuggling from the Stans and Iran than pushes prices down.

A bit sad to land in dry, dusty Kabul after a nice weekend in Herat, but very glad we got to see some of the country (and one of its nice cities).

Herat Day 1

We woke up to leave for the airport at 5AM. Farouk was a trooper given that the glass door of the shower shattered all over him yesterday, leaving something of a bloody mess in our shared bathroom. When we got to the airport, we forced poor Alyza to carry all our bags since the line for women's bag screening (of course set apart and secluded) was much shorter than that for men.

(Note here again that many of these pictures are courtesy of Farouk, Alyza, and Ameel)

We worked our way to the terminal, then waited watching old school Ninja Turtles in Dari and Indian movies where everything below the neck was blurred out (censored) for the dancing women. The flight was rather late but uneventuful, except for the approach into Herat as we saw the harsh and arid mountains of central Afghanistan drop suddenly into the green plains of Herat.

After landing at the airport, we did not go through a terminal but rather out a gate in the fence, where little boys with wheelbarrows offered to take your luggage.

The drive into the city really showed the contrast between Kabul and Herat. First, the path is lined with pine trees and green spaces rather than the brown dry dust of the capital. The air is clearer, the temperature cooler, and the roads and other infrastructure in better condition. In short, Herat seems a livable city, in contrast to the harsher and more crowded Kabul.

We drove the the Roshan guest house, which the company was nice enough to let us use and which is above one of the main Roshan stores in Herat. We also were fed well, with delicious omelets in the morning and a feast for lunch that included chicken kabobs (for the carnivores) and fresh naan.

We first set out in the morning to the tomb of Jami, a Sufi poet. Herat is a city of history and culture, and their poets are honored in line with their warriors. The tomb as quite beautiful and serene, with a tree growing to shield it from the sun.

At this point we should turn to our Roshan-assigned driver, who made our day and with whom we traded Farouk's few words of Dari to little effect. We asked to go to the minarets at Musalla and the mausoleum of Gowhar Shad but he instead turned in the opposite direction and took us up a small road to another tomb. At that tomb, which we cannot identify, he walked into a small courtyard filled with rocks/gravel, lay down, covered his face, and started rolling around in the rocks and dirt (seemingly painful). I have not been able to find much to explain this, but as far as we could gather the ritual was meant to cleanse him of "worries" or sins. Unexpected, certainly.

We now went to the minarets at Musalla which surround the mausoleum of Gowhar Shad. The minarets are all that remains of a massive complex destroyed under British rule and by the Soviets in their carpet bombing of the Old City after Ismail Khan led a mutiny against their rule in 1979. They are massive (not quite sure the height in meters), and on their surface there are still spots where the blue tile is still visible. They truly must have been marvelous in their original condition, as must have been the massive complex they and others like them outlined.

Our attempt to enter the mausoleum of Gowhar Shad was less successful, but still lovely from the outside. Gowhar Shad was queen to Shah Rukh, a great patroness of the arts (including the construction of the Musalla complex), and a master of political intrigue.

We next drove to Gazar Gah, a pilgrimage site which houses the tomb of a Sufi saint (and poet). Sadly Alyza was not allowed in (men only) and so missed an amazing sight. The courtyard that housed the tomb (restored by guess who- The Aga Khan Trust for Culture) showed an amazing range of Islamic art styles and was breath-taking. At the tomb itself, the sight of old men weeping before the shrine to the Sufi saint, likely having spent their whole lives waiting to see it, is hard to describe. Apologies for the Blair-witch bumpiness of this video, but I was trying not to be the clearly out of place tourist filming blatantly as people went about their prayers:

We next went to the Citadel, the site of a fort believed to first have been built by Alexander the Great and later the seat of power for successive rulers. After getting charged twice the rate we expected by the ANP policeman (who put the money in his pocket) we got the most amazing private tour of the fort.



We walked all about the site, which (not surprisingly) is being restored by the Aga Khan Trust for Culture and has many parts that still show the original broken condition of the structure.


We were able to scale the walls of the fort and found our way to some stairs at the top of the highest tour, which afforded a fantastic 360 degree view of the city. (Ignore the audio- you can see the minarets at Musalla, but I misidentify the Friday mosque, which you can actually see a few degrees later in the distance).

Next we met Afreen and Katy, who met us at the entrance where we hung out for a while with the ANP police officers while they drank their tea. An emboldened Ameel took a photo with one officer's AK-47:

Farouk then took his turn:

Finally, our driver got a bit too excited and for a brief, odd, yet slightly terrifying moment pointed the AK-47 at Francisco with something of a deranged look before breaking into laughter. Indeed, humor in Afghanistan.

After deciding that our crazy plan to reach the Minaret of Jam before dark truly was insane, we instead went to the Old City and wandered about for a bit. We tried ice cream (which the shop owner tried to give us for free), watched Afreen negotiate for a green burka, and eventually drew such a crowd of interested Heratis as we walked the street that we decided to move on.

Our driven next took us to a beautiful overlook of the city, followed by a tea shop/open garden with families and kids and wandering chickens and peacocks. We stayed here a couple of hours lounging and chatting as some enjoyed sheesha.

Picture of Afghan (men only, of course) enjoying a swimming pool:

We next drove to the Marco Polo Hotel. Afreen and Katy had emailed the management of the hotel (as listed on WikiTravel) and has been told the Marco Polo no longer existed and that they should go to the Nazary. We drove to the Marco Polo (which did indeed exist) and learned the management team had moved to the Nazary and were trying to trick potential Marco Polo guests. We then ate at what was once known as Herat's best restaurant (in the Marco Polo), which though good food was likely past that prime.

Quite an eventful, fantastic day. Tomorrow we hope to see the Friday Mosque (reputed to be the finest work of Islamic architecture in this country) and visit shops for carpets and Herat's famous blue glass before heading back to Kabul.

Roshan- The Musical

So early on Roshan hired one of (if not the) most famous Afghan singers - Farhad Darya - to write a song and be a brand advocate. The result is below. After the 15th time, the song is getting slightly better but you probably won't like it the first time. That said, it's apparently quite patriotic and has a lot of national images that stirred tears in all who were in attendance when it was first released. Enjoy, if interested:

Lockdown: Kabul Conference

We had our second lockdown (no leaving "the Village") for the Kabul conference the last 2 days (now back at work). In fact, the whole of Kabul was shut down for the conference. No cars moved anywhere in the city, and some Roshan local staff had to walk across the city to man the main shop and arrange airport travel. Must have been an odd sight- the normally traffic-clogged roads completely empty. Trying to get some pictures to share of it, but in the meantime I liked this NYT piece on the conference and lockdown:

A City Tour for VIPs

Fortunately the Taliban did not launch many attacks and NATO and Afghan forces broke up a cell before it could strike. So lockdown was shorter than expected, though clearly the loonies have an incentive to cause trouble today too. It's an oddly predictable script- how many poorly-aimed rockets did they have to launch at the airport yesterday to look credible and make the international press without wasting too many resources on highly secured targets? Such is the odd dance in Afghanistan.

Also, that Sunny Character

Since Sunny is not posting to a blog, here is a picture of her working away like a good MPA-ID in one of the poorest places in Bangladesh as the start-up she is working with tries to use mobile technology to deliver quality health care to some of the country's most disadvantaged citizens. Mainly, though, I think this is a great picture.

Quiet weekend/ The Bookseller of Kabul / Weird Creatures

This weekend Sabrina Roshan's (classmate from HKS) parents were nice enough to have us over for dinner at the Afghan Technical and Vocational Institute, which they run. Wasn't clever enough to take pictures, though.

Far less interesting but yet another of Kabul's oddities, I got a haircut ($15) at the Kabul Health Club, where a few of the summer interns are staying. To give you an idea of how odd this is for Kabul, see the website:

http://www.thekabulhealthclub.com/

And a (somewhat idealized) picture below (from their facebook page- yes they have a facebook page):

Hmmm, let's see if I have any other pictures to make this post somewhat interesting:

Ok, so some of you have likely read (as I have) The Bookseller of Kabul. The book was initially meant to focus on the "Bookseller of Kabul" (Shah Muhammad Rais) and his Fahrenheit 451-like struggle to save books from the Taliban. It ended up being an exploration of the horrors of life as a woman under the Taliban and of the perverse evils witnessed in the bookseller's home. The bookseller in turn sued the Norwegian woman who wrote the book, and wrote his own version of events. So a tumbled mess. The point- this is a picture of me at the Bookseller of Kabul's bookstore (where by the way, the book is not sold). We met his son (hopefully not the horrible one from the book....) who told us how much he loves communism and was helpful in sending postcards and finding maps and Dari books. PS- you should have all gotten postcards- apologies if Afghanistan swallowed them.

Finally, sitting in the TV room at Roshan Village, I ran across a most horrid creature- so hideous and so fast that these are the only pictures I was able to get of it. When challenged with a magazine, it made a face that I can only compare to the Predator when Arnold pissed it off. Anyone who can tell me "what the F" this creature is gets 27 points. It looked like a scorpion mated with a spider, and then was consumed by its own offspring. The fuzziness of the pictures is not that I am quaking with fear but rather that it moved incredibly fast, as you might expect from devil-spawn. Don't scroll any further unless you are prepared to have it haunt your nightmares:

Bagh-e-Babur and the interns at company dinner

The Roshan board met in Kabul this week, so the previous weekend had zero sleep for the interns and busy days! Long story, but my meeting with a separate board member ran over and so I found myself bouncing along in a van with my laptop trying to explain a database. The plus side was that I got another visit to Bagh-e-Babur, the biggest green space I've found in Kabul and the tomb of Babur, the poet, conqueror of Afghanistan and much of India, and first Mughal emperor. A nice place, made nicer by the special tour by the head of the institute (funded by the Aga Khan Trust for Culture) that re-built the gardens after they were destroyed by firefights between competing warlords in the 1990s. Also see pictures below this section for the Roshan dinner. All pictures courtesy of Alyza from our first visit:

A mosque built by the descendants of Babur, and thankfully largely spared by mujahideen bullets.

A fat kid along the path of Bagh-e-Babur.

Little girls playing at the gardens. During the Taliban period, women were arrested if they came to the gardens without their husbands. Last visit, I actually saw a couple holding hands.

Kids playing at Babur Gardens.

A view of the interior courtyard of the palace.

After a long day of meetings, the board had dinner with some of the local and expat staff back at the office. They even let interns in. Picture below of the intern gaggle and a few Afghan national staff. From the left: Khalid (Afghan), Salimah (Canadian intern), Dildaramin (Afghan), Farouk (Canadian intern), Sohaila (Afghan), Francisco, Alyza (Canadian intern, HBS2), Ameel (Canadian intern, HBS1).