Kite Flying in Kabul

So we only had a half day of obligations and had to return to the guesthouse for the remainder of the day. It is beginning to feel like we are confined and I am getting a bit stir crazy. The afternoon turned fun when I stepped out on our deck and saw a red kite flying in the distance. It was only a tiny red spot and at first I thought it was a flag. Then it moved around, bobbing up and down and I knew it was a kite. The book Kite Runner flashed to mind. As I began to scan the city skyline from the roof, I spotted other kites. Soon our housekeeper was with us, helping us get a kite in the air. It started to sprinkle and so he went inside and came back with new kite he had made out of black plastic – weather proof. It looked just like a sting ray with the tail and all. The wind caught it and took it high up in the sky. I learned the tricks of watching it turn and roll and when to let the string out versus pull it back. It was so much fun! Unfortunately, the wind turned a bit and our kite got stuck in a tall Cyprus tree. Our housekeeper was such a pro, he continued to command it. He desperately worked to try and free it from the tree. As he worked and worked, another little kite began to creep up. You could tell the other kite was stalking its pray and maneuvered with clear intention for a kite fight. Without any defense, as we were limited by the grip of the tree, the other kite came around and cut our string. We watched as our kite drifted away from the string that connected it to us and flutter toward to the earth. I wondered how long before our kite would be retrieved and airborne again over the rooftops of Kabul.

There is hope here!

Check it out

When we were at one of our clinic, just outside of Kabul, several times I would hear low flying helicopters approaching. I’d look out the window to see camouflage painted military helicopters heading somewhere. At one point there were 2, twin prop cargo helicopters with large crates suspended from their bellies. You don’t see that every day in America!

The pretty side of Afghanistan

Today we drove out of Kabul to the foot of the Hindu Kush Mountain range. Over the hour and half, the scenery drastically changed. Leaving behind the dust, crowding, pollution, taffic, noise and general chaos, we slowly climbed to a lush green valley. Here agriculture thrived, space was available, water flowed through irrigation paths and aquaducts and the overall feel was peaceful. Such a contrast. The vista of the mountains in the distant were stunning with there snow-capped peaks. We were told that when the taliban came through this area about 10 years ago, they burned everything down. There was the occasional rubble from destroyed buildings with letters painted on their wall to clearly identify if they were clear of explosives. Other than that, the area has recreated itself. Terraced fields of wheat, grape vineyards and date trees were flourishing. If I had to live in Afghanistan, this is where you would find me.

Burkas

While on safari in the Masai Mara, there was a photo I desperately wanted to capture. From afar you could see the herd of zebras on the plains. Every single time we would approach them with the hope of getting the shot, they would turn and only show their back side to us. As elusive as the head-on photo of a zebra in Africa, so to is the photo of the uncovered faces of Afghan women who wear burkas. At one of our clinics, burka clothed women would line up and wait to be seen. While they chatted between themselves waiting, the burka would be retracted. I thought to myself, here’s my chance for the photo I wanted. Without any cover to hide behind, I walked around a corner with my camera ready to shoot. In the time it takes to raise my camera, the women who were once exposed pulled they cover over their faces and the moment was gone.

My Totally Awesome Team

Minus David, AKA "shutter" - Our resident photographer, farsi-speaking translating, logistics guy.


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Why do men hit women?

The other day when I was in clinic, I heard the story I wanted to share. Through an interpreter and shed tears, she told her story to me. This woman was an educated worker in Kabul. By our standards, she would be respected and esteemed in the states by her peers for her accomplishments. She is a mother and a wife. She began to talk about the situation at home. In addition to her employment obligations which entail full days, she is also expected by her husband to be the sole homemaker and caretaker of the children. Her husband abuses alcohol and also abuses her. He is currently being unfaithful to the marriage has been sleeping around. He berates her verbally and beats her physically. She even showed me the bruises as evidence. On her shoulder were purple ecchymoses of varies stages. She continued on in her tears to share about how she is concerned about her children. To quote her, “I can take it, I can take it for the children. I just ask that he be quite when he does it”. In this culture this poor women has virtually no options. She can’t call the police. She can’t get a restraining order? She can’t divorce. She can’t leave, because where is she going to go?

So I have read A Thousand Splendid Suns and the women I met today sounded just like it. But the truth is her life is not a fictional story. It is real, hard and seems hopeless! She is just one woman here in Afghanistan; in a culture where women are property of men. How many other women are living the same story? What does the burka hide? Their value is in their ability to produce children, and more importantly males. That too, has been a repeated concern of some of the women we have seen in the clinic. Infertility can virtually be a death sentence for women here – if not a death sentence, than huge demotion within the family status to a position of servant or slave. These things are unfathomable to me and I am struggling to wrap my head around it all