The recommendations was to stay away from the Nauroz celebrations and big public crowds as these can be a very soft target for insurgents, terrorists and/or criminals, but I had discussed the plans of the day yesterday with my driver and he came and picked me up a little earlier and took me to see how the Kabulis celebrate new year. Well, the few of them that were left. He meant that 25% of the people in Kabul had already left for Mazar, which is the place to be on Nauruz. So the streets were fairly empty and quite. Those who were left took it up the hills and the mountains, on all the hills in and around Kabul you could see a lot of people. My driver took me to Bibi Maru Hill.
Already from a distance you can tell that there is something wrong and weird with the hill. It is not very high and has a flat top. There are no buildings on it and hardly a road worth the name going up to the top; still you see from a distance a big diving board on top of the hill. It belongs to an Olympic sized pool that the Russians built, but that hardly ever had any water in it because of the difficulties to pump water up to the top of a hill.
During the war they found an alternative use for the diving board; as an execution site. Then I must say I think they found better use for it now.
When we came up to the top of the hill we saw a big crowd of people on the bottom of the empty pool, there was music and there was dancing, lot of kids were climbing the diving board; the pool was turned into a spot for party and celebration!
There were a lot of people everywhere; everyone dressed up in their best clothes. Between two of the old deserted, rusting, Russian tanks was a man selling colourful balloons! Quite an absurd thing!
From the hill we could look down at another party site; a cemetery! My driver, Khan, asked me if I wanted to go there. First I was hesitating. Not so much for security reasons, but more for the fact that it felt a little bit as showing up at a party you are not invited to, and being the only westerner by far, I easily attracted attention and kids quickly started asking for “one dollar, please mister, one dollar”. But I understood that my driver wanted to go there; and from the hill he had pointed out the house where he is living, so I understood that this is his home ground. That was one factor that convinced me to let him take me there (another of course my notorious curiosity). I decided not to look upon my self as an uninvited stranger, but as a guest from overseas, invited by my driver to his neighbourhood, then it felt better. That also made me able to move around more relaxed, it also meant I had someone who could translate for me and tell me what was the right behaviour and when it was ok to take pictures etc.
It was an interesting and fascinating experience, walking around among the tombstones and mausoleums, seeing people setting up their picnics between the headstones, vendors selling everything from tea and snacks to kites and toys.
There was also a man-driven merry-go-around.
There was something else that was also wrong with the mountain. Looking up the hill from the cemetary one could see a big bomb crater.
After a while I felt it was time to get going. I had made plans to have lunch with my colleague at the guest house before taking off to the airport, and my colleague also did not know what I was up to so I thought we’d better get moving. The Khan asked me if he could invite me to see his home and meet his family. I was completely surprised, I had not expected that. I did not really know what to answer as I realised this was an honour and I was flattered, I knew Khan was Pashtun and I had read and heard a lot of the Pashtu hospitality, but at the same time I knew we were short of time. I asked Khan how long it would take us and he assured me that we would have time, so we went there.
We drove along the bumpy dirt tracks of the narrow alleys between the mud walls that are hiding all houses in Kabul until we stopped in front of a green gate. The gate was opened by a young boy and we drove into the yard. The compound consisted of three or four connected houses around yards, one of them had a small garden. It was all very simple, but very clean and tidy. In the dusty environment I guess they have to sweep the yard, the paths and the floors several times a day. I met the mother and the father of Khan, his younger sister and a sister in law and a bunch of nephews and nieces. I immediately felt very welcome and they all looked happy to see me there. Only the sister in law could speak a few words in English and welcomed me to Afghanistan. So did the father and the mother in Khan’s translation. The women and the children all rushed up to me to shake my hand, but not the father. I knew this could be the case and I am think I did well not to expect that and also to put my hand to the chest and greet him that way, it somehow came automatically and I did not feel less welcomed by him because of this. He was a very dignified man with a magnificent black beard. Later Khan told me that he is an attorney and a member of the parliament. The women and children were all very excited to have me there and showed me in to the living room. First I was invited to sit on the floor, but then someone objected and showed me to the next room where there was a low table with a sofa and three chairs. I believe sitting there was regarded as better than sitting on the floor. The sister in law brought her six months baby and gave him to me to hold.
I was asked if I wanted food or some tea. In a combination of not wanting to cause them a lot of work, shortage of time and a fear of being served something that I could not eat, I answered that I had lunch waiting for me at the guest house and that I only wanted some tea. But nevertheless the sister came in with a jug of water, a washing bowl, and a towel and she poured water over my hands over the washing bowl so I could wash my hands. Then a big sheet of naan bread was divided between me and Khan, a big tray of rice, a bowl of meat stew, some spinach and fresh vegetables were put on the table and voila; lunch was served. I felt a little bit awkward, both because I did not really knew how do deal with this, but I just looked at what Khan did and did the same, and because the others were not eating but only watching us and also I could not help wondering if this food would make me sick, mostly because I did not know about the quality of the water they had. But I found the food looking very fresh and nice, and I though that even if it would make me sick, this was my last day and hopefully I would make it back home before it broke out. I only stayed away from the uncooked vegetables but ate from the rest and it was delicious! However, we could not stay for too long but had to go back to get my colleague and the luggage and go to the airport. Before we left Khan also presented me with one of his works, a portrait of a man framed with flower patterns and calligraphy. Very nice! Before we left I took a picture of the family, unfortunately not with the father, but Khan and the women and children and his sister also wanted to be photographed together with me.
I am so happy my driver invited me to his home and I am so happy I went there! It is so important to meet real people when one is out travelling, maybe especially in my work and in a country as Afghanistan. Otherwise it is easy that one start to look at everyone as a presumptive insurgent or a terrorist or a victim or some one in need of help and assistance, but of course the big majority is normal people like we. Seeing the preparations for the Nauroz celebrations and when Khan asked me what kind of holidays we celebrate I also started thinking about the similarities between our cultures. I told Khan that in Sweden we will celebrate Easter this weekend, at the same time as they are celebrating Nauroz, and just the way the Afghans have painted eggs and were playing egg fights for Nauroz, we have painted eggs for Easter and in some parts of Sweden I know they have egg fights too, as well as I know, eggs are en essential part of celebrations in other countries and cultures too at this time of the year. I guess it all have something to do with celebrating the arrival of spring and the spring equinox and such, and that it all goes much further back in the history of humankind than both Islam and Christianity. That makes me wonder what all the fuss is about! Why can’t we just accept that we are all humans with the same needs, hopes and wishes and try not to focus so much on what differs?
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