The sounds of prayer are echoing through the streets as I sit in my host's home in the Kabul morning. I arrived last night, after a two hour delay in the Delhi airport. During which we just sat there, no plane at the gate and no one around to inform us of what what going on (Welcome to Central Asia!). I finally touched down in Kabul at approximately 7pm local time, and the terminal, except for the security and immigration areas, was shut down. The best part was, there were no signs pointing to a pick up area, so I wandered into the airport parking lot enveloped by the Afghan night, with no cell phone and no way of knowing where the hell Aman was to meet me. Oh great, let's just wander around in the darkness in Kabul and HOPE I bump into the one of the very few people I know in a city of 4 million. I had met a British gentlemen at the Delhi airport who had generously offered his cell to call Aman and let him know the flight was delayed. Fortunately, I saw him in the parking lot, after no small amount of aimless wandering, and again he let me use his phone to call Aman. “Parking lot C”, he told me and after a bit more wandering I finally found his smiling face and warm embrace. Whew.
We went straight to his father's home where a delicious meal and a room full of their relatives and friends awaited. Those of you who know me best, know I have been a pseudo-vegetarian (pescitarian to be exact) for 20 years. I had long suspected that while in Afghanistan I would have to be a bit more liberal with my diet. One- due to availability, and two- because I certainly will not refuse the hospitality of one who opens their doors and offers to feed me, most definitely not here. Little did I know that on my first night I would have bits of lamb (which I tried to pick around) in a rice dish, and brains (which there was no picking around). Yes brains, calf brains to be exact. Might as well dive right in, yes? For those interested, it tasted a bit like a heavily spiced version of what I recall liver to be like, but not as bitter. I only had a small bit. Enough to be appreciative, but not so much to send me into a digestive coma.
Another current guest in Dr. Mojadidi's home, is his niece Sedika, whom I mentioned in a previous post. A fellow NYC resident, Sedika is here working on a documentary about young Afghans studying journalism. This morning over breakfast the topic of Afghan hospitality arose. Think of Southern American hospitality and multiply it by the largest number your imagination can grasp. I remember such generosity from spending time in Afghan homes as a child in Jacksonville, but so far here in Kabul it's been raised like a compulsive gambler going all-in blind. In fact, it's a bit overwhelming. In addition, they have a paid servant here who cooks and cleans for the residents and their guests. I just sit back and am waited on. This is of course something I'm in no way accustomed to, and I haven't the foggiest idea how to respond. It completely throws my equilibrium off. Or, maybe that's just the nearly 6,000 foot altitude. Anyway, point is- the hospitality is tremendous, and as I said a bit overwhelming, but I'm going with the flow, and am tremendously thankful. Tashakor, has come out of my lips with startling frequency, though I still am struggling with the proper pronunciation. As Sedika said to me, “Afghans take great pride in their hospitality. It's the way they connect with one another, and to refuse their hospitality is a great insult”. So accept it I will, and thankfully. Tashakor, Tashakor!!
The benefits of such hospitality have been many in the just 15, or so, hours I've been here. I awoke this morning to a breakfast of nan with cream cheese and jam, and four soft boiled eggs. Yum! Soft boiled eggs are something I haven't had in years, and whenever I do I'm reminded of my Grandmother making them for me as a child. A little slice of home right here in Kabul! Furthermore, the home I'm staying in is the lap of luxury on Kabul's scale. They even have central heat. Aman's girlfriend Marina told me last night it's the only home in Kabul she has seen with such an amenity. This I must admit to being happy about, as the insulation in this home, and all homes in Kabul from what I hear, is non-existent. This whole house is surrounded by windows, and what walls are present (for structural support only from what I can tell) are solid concrete or brick.
So here I sit, in my room, typing away and awaiting Dr. Mojadidi's return from his duties as consultant to the Afghan Ministry of Health, upon which he is to give me an introduction to his clinic. I think my work there will begin in earnest tomorrow, which I am greatly looking forward to. I'm also looking forward to getting out and seeing a bit of the city. Last night when I came in it was obviously dark, so I only got a bit of a look. As Aman is want to say, “Kabul is Mars”. Well, I did always want to travel to other worlds. Guess I got my chance.
As-Salam Alaikum Ya'll.
No comments:
Post a Comment