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AFGHAN
S
NE
ISSUE 65 - DECEMBER 2009 Gem hunters
The men tapping into Afghanistan’s
extraordinary mineral wealth
Essential Christmas gifts
Kabul’s best Sushi joint reviewed
Born Under A Million Shadows
Nancy Hatch Dupree on Kabul’s golden era
PERSPECTIVE
s
INSIGHT
s
PEOPLE
s
REVIEWS
s
PICS s LIFE
SCENE
AFGHAN
Afghan Scene December 2009
#ONTENTS
)NTRODUCTION
Afghan Scene
Scene December
December 2009
2009
Afghan
ISSUE 65 - DECEMBER 2009
Publisher: Afghan Scene Ltd, Wazir Akbar Khan, Kabul, Afghanistan
Manager & Editor: Afghan Scene Ltd, Kabul, Afghanistan
Design: Kaboora Production
Advertising: [email protected]
Printer: Emirates Printing Press, Dubai
Contact: [email protected] / www.afghanscene.com
Afghan Scene welcomes the contribution of articles and / or pictures from its readers.
Editorial rights reserved.
Cover photo: Jason P. Howe
7 )NTRODUCTION
11 #ITY RHYTHMS
Acclaimed photographer David Gill meets the rockstar DJ
brining new tunes to an old city in his latest installment of
Kabul at Work
13 #/6%2 %MERALDS
BBC correspondent Martin Patience hikes into the Hindu
Kush to meet the men blasting away in Panjshir’s emerald
mines
13
20 ,APIS ,AZULI
Sophia Swire goes underground to collect the pharaohs’
favourite hue, from the world’s oldest Lapis mine in
Badakhshan
26 #HRISTMAS 3PECIAL
Scene’s bumper Christmas gift guide, with handmade
treats to fill every type of stocking
33 $UPREE THE GOOD OLD DAYS
Kabul stalwart Nancy Dupree remembers Kabul in the 1960s
complete with cabarets and cocktail bars
42 &ICTION
Andrea Busfield shares the first chapter of her best-selling
Afghan love story, Born Under a Million Shadows
33
60 "E 3CENE
What lock-down? Scene finds black tie balls, garden parties
and Thanksgiving feasts aplenty
68 &OOD SCENE
NEW sushi restaurant Bentoya gets a glowing thumbs up
from Afghan Scene
72 !FGHAN %SSENTIALS
All you need to know about where to go in Kabul
76 &AREWELL TO A RIGHTS CAMPAIGNER
UN Human Rights sleuth Niko Grubeck on the highs
and lows of three years in Afghanistan
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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Afghan Scene December 2009
5
&AREWELL scene
)NTRODUCTION
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
2010,
THE MOST CRUCIAL YEAR
SINCE THE LAST ONE
T
welve months ago we were told 2009
was to be the make-or-break year
for Afghanistan. Unfortunately it was
mostly break, with an insurgency that
strengthened in the south, made inroads into
the north and severely tested the resolve of
countries providing troops and treasure to the
NATO-led effort.
Add to that the controversy over the painfully
long drawn out election process and the
ongoing uneasiness about the government’s
legitimacy and it is hard not to conclude that
2009 has been little short of disastrous.
Now we are being told that 2010 will in fact
be the crucial year for deciding the fate of the
eight year project to turn Afghanistan into a
stable, democratic state free from the taint of
international terrorism.
But things are desperate and it is
questionable whether the country will be
given as much has a year to turn the corner.
With western politicians nervously eyeing
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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their countries’ electoral schedules things have
to start improving very rapidly indeed. The
government has supposedly been given just six
months to tackle the challenges of corruption
and poor governance.
Much of this will be maddening to many
of Afghan Scene’s readers who know that
little can be achieved in any country, let alone
Afghanistan, on such a truncated timetable.
Gems and semi-precious stones, for example,
could become a cornerstone of the Afghan
economy, according to development experts
(see page 20). But Afghan lapis (not to mention
carpets, pomegranates and all therest) will not
be taking world markets by storm any time soon.
The international community must be patient,
and accept that 2011 and the years thereafter
will be just as crucial as 2010.
[email protected]
Afghan Scene December 2009
7
3CENE Team
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
#ONTRIBUTORS
Afghan Scene Magazine is proud to showcase work from the best photographers in Afghanistan
David Gill is a British writer, photographer and videogrpher focusing on a social
documentary and overseas development. His current book project
Kabul, a City at Work is a selection over 100 original portraits.
web.mac.com/shot2bits/work
Harry Cole is a cad and a bounder. A former guards officer in the British army
he’s now a raconteur, wit and man about town who juggles security and
logistics in between scribbling Scene’s pocket cartoons.
Jason P Howe is a British freelance photojournalist who has spent the last eight
years specialising in conflict coverage. He is best known for his extensive work
on Colombia but he also spent several years in Iraq, documented the 2006 war
in Lebanon and has been based in Afghanistan since mid 2007.
www.conflictpics.com
Almost all of the photographs and cartoons featured in Afghan Scene are available for sale direct from the
artists. Most of them are available for commissions, here and elsewhere. If you would like to contribute to
Afghan Scene, or if you can’t get hold of a contributor, please contact [email protected].
Just think, a mere 8 years ago we were
virtual prisoners under the Taliban
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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www.afghanscene.com
Afghan Scene December 2009
+ABUL at work
+ABUL at work
Afghan
Afghan Scene
Scene December
December 2009
2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
2OCK AND 2OLL
3UICIDE
Kabul’s first rock DJ puts his life
on the line says DAVID GILL
ROCK THE CASBAH: AJ the DJ at Kabul Rock FM108 | David Gill
I
n case you didn’t know. There is a war going
on in Afghanistan. This is not Obama’s War.
This is not the Great Game Part 5. This is
a war of culture… a war to win the hearts
and minds of the nation’s youth (over 68 per
cent of the nation is under 25).
Despite the removal of the Taliban eight
years ago this is still a very traditional and
10
Afghan Scene December 2009
repressive society. ‘Rock’ is still the music your
parents don’t want you to listen to. Few shops
sell western music and if they do it’s either
Bollywood, Britney Spears or Celine Dion.
Kabul Rock - Afghanistan’s first ever rock
radio station has just launched and AJ, a
23-year-old presenter, is one of the foot soldiers
on the front line, whose aim is to educate the
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youth, or at least provide them with an option
to the relentless diet of unthreatening MOR
that is currently being served.
AJ rocks up to his interview wearing a T-shirt
mocking the Taliban, a regime that banned
music and dancing during its five-year reign
of fear. When he’s not rocking Afghan ears
with music they’ve never heard, (Ice Cube to
the Rolling Stones) AJ runs his father’s famous
bookstore – Shah Books – the inspiration behind
the hit novel The Bookseller of Kabul.
“I used to think everyone outside of my way
of thinking was an infidel but know I better,
music opened my soul and I realized that the
people should have the choice to seek out and
experience new things,” says AJ.
“I am not saying religion is wrong only that
people need to realize that Afghans can never
be forced to do anything. I just want to help
provide them with that choice.” ϻ
Kabul, A City at Work is a selection of over 100 original portraits from the
capital. Its authors describe it as a window into Kabul’s soul. For more
information visit www.web.mac.com/shot2bits/work | www. kabulatwork.com
www.afghanscene.com
Afghan Scene December 2009
11
#ARTOON scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
Lapis is Afghanistan’s leading
full service strategic
communications company:
Are you (a) for the war; or (b) against it?
Not that your views make a blind bit of difference.
Lapis Ltd is the PR division of the award-winning Moby Group (MG) - Afghanistan’s
leading privately owned and integrated media company, with a strong emphasis on client
service and a passion for our clients’ businesses. We are currently recruiting for positions
within our small, thriving consultancy for talented and experienced public relations staff
who have worked in a recognized agency on corporate accounts, preferably on donorfunded or government projects. You should be comfortable working in a challenging
environment. Our client list includes many well-known Afghan and International
organizations.
Project Managers
You will have the ability to manage complex projects and multiple activities simultaneously,
in a swiftly changing environment. You will have at least 3 years’ experience and at least
one year in a developing or emerging economy. PM experience is essential with some
agency and communication background. Media knowledge is an added advantage.
Deputy General Manager
As the senior manager in Lapis you will supervise a mixed team of national and international
staff working on a diverse range of projects. You will have at least 6 years’ experience of
managing small teams working for a range of clients, preferably on government or donorfunded contracts. Business development, business planning, strategic communications or
public relations agency either for private corporate clients, international or diplomatic
organizations, or in military environment is essential. Media exposure and knowledge
would be a great advantage.
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Afghan Scene December 2009
www.afghanscene.com
Interested applicants please forward your CV and covering letter to [email protected]
www.afghanscene.com
Afghan Scene December 2009
Lapis is a Moby Group Company – “engaging, educating and entertaining Afghanistan since 2002”
&EATURE scene
&EATURE scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
)NSIDE !FGHANISTANS
EMERALD MINES
Armed only with a back copy of the Guardian MARTIN PATIENCE
set off in search of emeralds in the high Panjshir
I
t all felt a bit ominous. With a rucksack
packed with five litres of water I was
struggling my way up the Hindu Kush
mountain range, thousands of feet above
sea-level. Behind me was a man carrying
a yellow sack - a yellow sack packed with
explosives, that is. And then on the way up
the narrow path, I spotted three or four
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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green Islamic flags marking a gravestone.
What happened there, I wondered. Well,
it seemed that someone had been taking a
rest - his last as it turned out - when he was
struck by a rock fall.
But the reason for all the pain and highaltitude panting was simple: we were heading
to the emerald mines.
Afghan Scene December 2009
15
&EATURE scene
&EATURE scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
CHAI TIME: A team of miners enjoy a well deserved break after hours under ground | Jason P Howe
The journey had started three hours earlier
in the village of Kheng. It was the kind of
place that seemed strange even by Afghan
standards.
Most of the shops were a neat row of
shipping containers. And almost everyone
seemed to have slips of white paper they
would unwrap for you to reveal emeralds.
The stones weren’t dazzling; in fact, they
looked like dull shards of glass. They only
shine after they are cut and polished. But
for the few hundred villagers of Kheng - it
meant money - and lots of it. The source
of that wealth, the mines, was above the
snowline.
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Afghan Scene December 2009
At first, there wasn’t a lot to look at
- apart from flying stones that hurtled
their way down the slopes. But once you
had caught your breath, and looked closer,
you saw it for what it was: a frontier post
perched high on a mountain.
Parts of the mountain were like Swiss
cheese - burrowed with mineshafts. About
300 men worked up here - living in caves,
or, if they were lucky, in mud houses. Some
stayed up here for weeks on end. They
worked in teams - miners, diggers, explosive
experts, cooks, and suppliers. They shared
the profits of any emeralds that were found.
You could buy in as part of a syndicate - and
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GEM RUSH: Men hunting for emeralds in the high Panjshir | Jason P Howe
provide, say, a donkey-load of rice which would
guarantee you a share. But you needed luck in
this place if you wanted to get rich.
Mohammed, the manager of one of the
mines, told me that he had seen people work
for 10 years and find absolutely nothing. And
then he had seen people mining for two weeks
walking away with a haul of the precious
stones. More worryingly, Mohammed told me
that 30 miners had been killed or seriously
injured by explosions or fumes in the mineshafts
in the past 10 years.
Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a great deal
of science or safety considerations when it
came to mining here. At the entrance to one
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HEAVY DUTY: Lacking specialist equipment, miners make do
with DIY equipment | Jason P Howe
Afghan Scene December 2009
17
&EATURE scene
&EATURE scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
of the operational mines, four miners, looking
like sooty moles, appeared to be enjoying the
daylight after hours of darkness. Armed only
with a torch, I walked into their gloom. I was
forced to scramble up steep inclines. The air
quality got worse and worse the further I went.
It felt like walking into a smoker’s lung.
After walking for a few minutes, the noise
of a drill started echoing through the rough-cut
tunnel. There were two young men. They packed
the drilled hole with explosives scooped out of
a plastic bag. And then fitted it with a charge. I
didn’t fancy hanging about to see the explosion
going off.
So I made the hastiest turn of my life and
half-stumbled down the mineshaft, trying to
mind my head and trying not to drop my torch.
I then shouted at Mahfouz - the BBC’s everpatient producer - that we needed to stick
together - it’s very dangerous! We can’t be
messing about at times like this.
A few seconds later he arrived - face puffing
- and calmly said: “Martin you’re going the
wrong way.”
When the explosions went off - I wasn’t
actually out of the mine. Instead, I was at a
so-called “safe” distance. I didn’t really hear
very much - it was so loud - I just felt a rush
of dust passing over my face and then my ears
popped.
LAMP LIGHT: Gloomy conditions in a tunnel hundreds
of meters long | Jason P Howe
After the dust and my nerves started to
settle, I asked one of the miners how he felt
when he saw an emerald. He told me that he
forgot the hardship and fatigue of a year’s work.
He then motioned to go back up the shaft to
see whether the explosion had hit a seam of
emeralds.
But I decided not to take him up on the
offer. To be perfectly honest, I’d had enough for
one day - emeralds or no emeralds. ϻ
Martin Patience is the BBC reporter in Kabul and previously spent four
years in the Middle East. He doesn’t wear jewelry.
COMING UP FOR AIR: A miner leaves the tunnel after a long shift at the emerald face | Jason P Howe
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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,APIS scene
,APIS scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
4HE 0HARAOHS FAVOURITE HUES
SOPHIA SWIRE explains how a stone that the ancient Egyptians
valued more highly that gold could transform the country
F
or thousands of years the world has got
its best quality Lapis Lazuli from the
ancient mines of Badakhshan.
Since Neolithic times lapis, as well
as rubies, spinel and sphene, have been carried
over thousands of miles by man, mule and
camel and distributed throughout the ancient
Near East into Mesopotamia, Ur and Egypt, and
eastwards to India.
The bright blue stone from Afghanistan’s
northernmost province can now be found in
20
Afghan Scene December 2009
historic collections around the world, including
the British Crown Jewels, the Taj Mahal and the
Imperial Jewels in Russia.
The lapis in the mask of Tutankhamun
(1361-1352 BC) is thought to have come from
the Khuran-wa-Munjan mines in Badakhshan.
Almost all the stone-carved scarab beetles,
excavated from his tomb, were fashioned from
lapis.
In ancient Egpyt lapis was paid in tribute
to the pharaohs and was regarded as more
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valuable than gold. Queen Cleopatra had it
ground down to powder and used it as eyeshadow.
In 1271 Marco Polo wrote of the mountains
of Badakhshan, “in which are found veins of
lapis lazuli, the stone which yields the azure
colour. It is the finest in the world.” Seven
centuries later, Lord Elphinstone, wrote of the
“Badakhshan ridge” containing “many valuable
mines of silver, lapis lazuli, iron and antimony.
Whole cliffs of lapis lazuli, however, overhang
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the river of Kaushkaur, between Chitral, and the
Euoszye.”
The lapis from Badakhshan has always
been recognized as the world’s finest. In the
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the
Russian Czars sourced top quality lapis to
fashion into Faberge eggs, and other objets
d’art, preferring it to the spotted lazurite that
they mined on the shores of Lake Baikal.
For millennia mining techniques barely
changed with miners working in appalling
Afghan Scene December 2009
21
,APIS scene
,APIS scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
NOT SO SAFE: A length of wood holds up a tunnel
conditions by burrowing horizontally into
the mountains and then down vertical shafts
with ‘supportive’ structures built from debris,
branches and twigs.
The situation became a little more organised
in the 1970s with greater government
involvement, but the situation today is still
characterised by poor techniques, little training
and dangerous working conditions.
Although the precious stone and gems
industry provided an important source of
revenue during the recent years of war with the
Soviet Union and then the Taliban, the business
is a fraction of its former self.
In 2008, total (legal) exports of all products
from Afghanistan were just over $600m. If
proper support is provided, within five years
the gemstone industry alone could export
over $300m a year. The country is currently
exploiting only a fraction of the potential of
this sector. There is almost no “value added” in
Afghanistan. Most cutting, polishing, jewellery
manufacturing, wholesaling and retailing, takes
22
Afghan Scene December 2009
place outside Afghanistan, which is a significant
loss for the country, as processing and polishing
can add up to 40 per cent to the value of uncut
stones, with finished jewellery adding a further
20 per cent and direct to market retail sales a
further 60 per cent. Miners are currently making
very little return on capital and effort employed,
sometimes mining for months at a time and
finding nothing.
A concerted effort is underway to map
untapped mineral resources in Badakhshan and
help local people in a number of ways to make
more out of their natural resources.
The Rupani Foundation and GTZ are among
the aid organisations currently active in the
province supporting gem-cutting training. And
the Aga Khan Development Network is exploring
ways to upgrade Afghanistan’s gemstone
sector by restoring the “mines to market” value
chain, through a combination of improved
training courses, equipment supply, publicprivate partnerships, export market linkages,
strengthened industry infrastructure and private
sector associations. Such strategies could help
to boost profits for the industry by over 120 per
cent.
Using a country’s natural resources and the
locals’ own skills to break cycles of poverty
makes perfect development sense, but there is a
huge amount that has to be done first.
The University of Kabul and Kabul
Polytechnic run rudimentary mining courses
with poor facilities and no laboratory. They are
begging for teachers and for basic equipment
such as microscopes. International funds
need to be invested in teacher-training,
better university-level mining departments,
technical on-site training for miners. Training
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STICKS AND STONES: Lapis miners working in difficult conditions
in gemmology, gem-cutting and jewellery is
required in all mining regions to bring the
value-added back to the communities that most
need it, and create employment for thousands
more Afghan men and women.
Gemstone mining and associated businesses
have the potential to bring sustainable income
to men and women in rural areas that are
currently vulnerable to extreme poverty. The
veteran Afghan gem-hunter Gary Bowersox
estimated that for every mine job created in
Afghanistan, up to 90 additional jobs could be
created to support the value chain. Even half
of this would have an enormous impact on
economic growth in Badakshan and across the
country. ϻ
Sophia Swire is an independent business development consultant who has been
living in Kabul for the past 2 years (and working in the region for 20). She set
up the Jewellery and Gem-Cutting school at Turquoise Mountain, developed a
national gemstone strategy for USAID (DAI-ASMED) and is currently working
with the Aga Khan Foundation on a value-chain analysis for Badakshan’s lapis
resources
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Afghan Scene December 2009
23
&AREWELL scene
&AREWELL scene
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'IFT scene
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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YOUR FAVOURITE
3#%.%3 5.-)33!",%
#(2)34-!3 ')&4 '5)$%
AFRO BEAD RINGS ($5 each)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
26
Afghan Scene December 2009
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P
rices range from $5 to $500, and there’s
not a carpet in sight. With one eye on your
baggage allowance, we’ve got everything
from baby-burqas to haute couture, teddy
bears to beaded tops, earrings to essential oils - and
most of it’s
available under one roof (with secure parking).
First stop for the hurried Christmas shopper has
to be Gangina, a few hundred metres from City
Centre or the UNICA Guesthouse, it’s a collection of
boutique stores with everything from overcoats to
embroidered coasters, carved wooden cabinets and
culturally sensitive clothes.
Expect to pay a small premium for the sensation
of a western shop, something resembling service
and, almost uniquely in Afghanistan, the chance to
spend a fortune without sipping copious amounts of
green tea while arguing about the price.
Here you will also find fantastic Afghan-made
designer womenswear and accessories from Tarsian
& Blinkley. The first such company on the scene,
T&B have been around since 2003 and now have
the largest and most sophisticated array of handembroidered goods in town. Not only are the clothes
beautiful, they also provide much needed cash for
the women who sew them, many of who also have a
major role in creating the company’s unique designs.
In fact, the best thing about handing over
the greenbacks, is it’s all guilt free. Almost all of
the merchants in Gangina are supporting Afghan
craftsmen and seamstresses. It’s fairtrade without
the branding.
And that’s also true of Silk Road at the Galleria.
Opposite the Park Palace Guesthouse and on the
same street as the Wakhan Cafe, Silk road products
are handmade by some of the poorest men and
women in Bamiyan.
But for those of you stuck behind the wires it’s
bad taste Bagram t-shirts (available at Nato bases
all over Afghanistan) and OEF mugs to match. ϻ
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HAND MADE AFGHAN TEDDY BEARS (from $15)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
ESSENTIAL OILS & POT POURRI by GULESTAN at GANGINA:
Made from rose petals, cedar wood and bitter orange
blossoms in Nangahar. 5ml Cedar & Neroli oil ($20), 2ml
Rose Oil ($40), Rose Bud Pot Pourri ($10)
CHAPAN PATTERN BUCKET HAT ($10)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
Afghan Scene December 2009
27
'IFT scene
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Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
LADIES’ WOOL & ANTIQUE SILK
EMBROIDERED OVERCOAT ($500)
by ZARIF DESIGNS at GANGINA
PURPLE & GOLD EMBROIDERED PAISLEY SILK SHIRT ($120)
by TARSIAN & BLINKLEY at GANGINA
EMBROIDERED SILK SCARF ($35)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
PAKOOLS ($5) by ZARDOZI at GANGINA: No Afghan
shopping trip is complete without the traditional Chitrali
cap. A must-have gift for any first Kabul Christmas
EMBROIDERED SANDALS ($25)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
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Afghan Scene December 2009
RED EMBROIDERED COAT ($100)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
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UZBEK WOOLLEN BOOTIES ($10)
from HADYA GALLERY
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MINI BURQAS (from $5)by ZARDOZI at GANGINA: Babyburqas ideal for covering bottles, available in universal blue,
white, red, black, yellow and green. Scene’s Verdict: Novel
twist on an iconic image of Afghanistan.
A good light-hearted gift.
BABY ALPACA HANDWARMERS ($20)
by ZARDOZI at GANGINA: Knitted in Jalalabad.
Available in various wools and colours
UZBEK GLOVES ($5)
from HADYA GALLERY at GANGINA:
Available in various sizes and colours
Afghan Scene December 2009
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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SILK POST-IT NOTE HOLDER ($8)
by ZARDOZI at GANGINA:
Available in three sizes and various
colours, bound in turban silk.
SILVER & LAPIS EARRINGS ($13)
from HERAT
WOVEN & EMBROIDERED PURSE ($8)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
EMBROIDERED PURSE ($9)
by ZARDOZI at GANGINA:
Part of a hand woven range including shoulder
bags, pencil cases, jewellery bags and compacts.
LAPIS BRACELET WITH SILVER CLASP ($10)
from HERAT
WOVEN PENCIL CASE ($10)
by SILK ROAD at the GALLERIA
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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3CENE it all
3CENE it all
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
O
ne busy, busy day in Peshawar, way back in 1995, I was
interrupted by a phone call from the Swedish Committee
for Afghanistan in Stockholm. The editor of their slick
magazine, Afghanistan Nytt, had the idea that I should
write a column four times a year. “Impossible!” I said, “too much to
do.” But he was very charming, and very persistent. So, in desperation
to get on with my work, I said, yes. Thus began a project that continues
to this day. Fitting big topics into the limited space allowed has been
an enjoyable challenge, requiring a lot of focus and discipline.
When they graciously suggested republishing the collection I wondered
what possible interest such old material might have. But these pieces
do seem to provide an interesting perspective on today’s events. The
following excerpts are from a column written in May 1997 during
Taliban times.
!FGHANISTAN
OVER A CUP OF TEA
Few people know Afghanistan better than NANCY HATCH DUPREE who has
just published a collection of articles about her forty years in the country
+ABUL
2EMEMBERED
N
ostalgia among Afghans and their
foreign friends fortunate enough
to have shared the excitement of
Kabul during the 1960s and 70s
is all the more poignant because the effects
of later events still disrupt many lives. The
luminescence of these years ignites memories,
but the tales we old-timers have to tell now
seem scarcely credible.
The social elites with whom most foreigners
associated in the early 60s were urbane,
sophisticated men and women impeccably
dressed in European fashions, speaking faultless
English, French and German. We met frequently
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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during busy rounds of official social gatherings,
but the glittering Queen’s Birthday Ball at the
British Embassy marked the peak of the social
season. We danced the night through until
dawn.
By the mid-60s, the effects of rapid
development reached deeper into the society as
thousands of men and women from all levels
of society returned from training abroad and
accelerated the pace and vitality of the city. A
new constitution promulgated in October 1964
and the elections that followed a year later
inspired feelings of greater openness and hopes
that expectations could be fulfilled. Charged
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with a sense of confidence, young men and
women moved quickly in novel innovative
directions with fresh enthusiasm.
Suddenly we had a choice of Afghan, Italian,
German, French and Chinese cuisine, served
with superb Czech beer, or, if you preferred,
Afghan wine from a newly opened Italian
winery. Restaurant interiors were tastefully
decorated to match the provenance of their
menus. A posh establishment using Afghan
architectural designs and specializing in
regional Afghan dishes was especially popular
among young Afghan couples. The pianist at
the Nuristani cocktail lounge drew many loyal
customers. There were snack and pizza bars,
ice-cream parlors, a jazz club, bars, cabarets,
tennis, golf and riding clubs, a ski lodge and a
bowling alley. At a dimly-lit nightclub where
the walls were hung with scarlet and gold
brocade, couples twisted happily to the latest
western hits; elsewhere one sat on Afghan
carpets and supped on Afghan delicacies
while Kabul’s stellar musicians played in the
background.
Kabul’s nightlife continued brisk late into the
evening.
Swelling the patrons of these entertainments
were swarms of tourists, until then a rarity.
Waves of hippies stocking up on Afghanistan’s
much prized marijuana went on east in search
of gurus in Nepal and Goa, passing carloads of
Pakistanis coming west to enjoy Kabul’s fine
weather, its shops crammed with luxury imports
from all over the world, a shopping paradise,
and - not least - lengthy showings of films
from India. By 1969, of the more than 63,000
tourists recorded, 26,000 came from Pakistan.
Hotels were soon built to cater to these tourists.
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A luxury hilltop hotel offered spectacular
views from its elegant fifth-floor restaurant;
its terrace swimming pool was graced by
Kabul’s social elites attired in bikinis.
The bikini-clad Afghan ladies were
admittedly an exception. Most families still
preferred to relax at day-long picnics in
gardens dotted around the city, outings which
highlight all our memories. Nevertheless, by
the early 70s families from the burgeoning
middle class began to hold weddings in
modest downtown hotels at which men
and women mixed freely, dancing to live
bands late into the night. Elsewhere women
were highly visible. They worked in every
office and in numbers of factories, filled the
classrooms at Kabul University, and school
girls crowded the sidewalks as schools
for girls expanded. Scores of fashionable
boutiques and hair styling salons owned
and operated by women opened throughout
Shahr-i-Naw’s residential section.
Women were prominent speakers at
countless week-long international seminars
celebrating the anniversaries of famous poets,
writers and thinkers. Periodic art exhibitions
and poetry readings were always wellattended, as were the daring productions
put on at the Kabul Theatre. Desire Under
the Elms held the city enthralled for weeks.
At Afghan Films, actresses gave powerful
performances in productions ranging from
historical spectaculars to tragedies with
gripping social statements.
It is thus possible to look back at all this
western modernity and think of Kabul as a
vibrant city full of fun, forgetting that there
was a darker side. While some families
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BAKSHEESH: An old school traffic policemen in the days before ubiquitous bribes
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women, the left and the right,
became a familiar sight snaking
through the streets of Kabul from
1965 onwards.
The provinces reflected little
of Kabul’s intensely westernized
lifestyle, nor did the westernized
Kabuli deign to countenance values
cherished in the countryside. Kabul
sat isolated and estranged. Hardly
any old-timers remain and the rural
conservatives whose laws prevail
today are determined to cleanse the
city of what they consider its morally
degraded ways. The iridescent
bubble of memories has burst
asunder, leaving a murky residue
from which a new Kabul must be
moulded. ϻ
TRAFFIC CIRCLE: The Ministry of Planning on Pashtunistan Square, 1973
found it possible to build modern homes in the
recently developed suburbs, a good portion
of the capital’s middle class still lived in the
noisome Old City, in crowded extended-family
households lacking basic amenities such as
electricity, piped water, and sanitation. Social
disparities were starkly evident; Kabul was still
a divided city.
And while it is unquestionable that
individuals now enjoyed greater personal
freedoms, Afghans in general were not
encouraged to socialise with foreigners unless
their work gave them reason to do so. Foreign
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homes were kept under constant surveillance,
servants reported on comings and goings and
informants mingled with guests at all social
gatherings.
The euphoria occasioned by the fresh
experiments in democracy came to be tempered
by disillusionment; an intensified mood of
militancy developed that led to an increase
in political activity. Leftist groups formed to
demand further instant changes; conservatives,
notably religious leaders, issued dire warnings
that the society was headed toward moral
collapse. Marching demonstrators including
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LITTLE AND LARGE: Nancy with book editor
Markus Håkansson of the Swedish Committee
for Afghanistan
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Nancy Hatch Dupree first came
to Kabul in the 1962 as a wife of
a US diplomat. In her nearly fifty
years living in both Kabul and
Peshawar, she remarried, wrote a
series of authoritative books on
the ancient history and culture
of Afghanistan and helped to
preserve hundreds of thousands
of precious documents written
by aid workers over the
decades. To her Afghan and
international friends she is
known affectionately as “the
grandmother of Afghanistan”.
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9OUR LIFE
THROUGH THE EYES
OF AN !FGHAN BOY
Kabul chart-buster ANDREA BUSFIELD shares
the first chapter of her best-selling novel Born
Under A Million Shadows in Scene’s unmissable
Christmas Gift Guide
M
y name is Fawad and my mother
tells me I was born under the
shadow of the Taliban.
Because she said no more, I
imagined her stepping out of the sunshine and
into the dark; crouching in a corner to protect
the stomach that was hiding me, whilst a man
with a stick watched over us, ready to beat me
into the world.
But then I grew up and I realized I wasn’t
the only one born under this shadow. There was
my cousin Jahid, for one, and the girl Jamilla –
we all worked the foreigners on Chicken Street
together – and there was also my best friend,
Spandi. Before I knew him, Spandi’s face was
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Osama had a house in Kabul where he made
hundreds of children with his forty wives.
America hated bin Laden. They came to
Afghanistan to kill him.
eaten by sand flies, giving him the one-year
sore that left a mark as big as a fist on his
cheek. He didn’t care though, and neither did
we, and while the rest of us were at school he
sold spand to fat westerners which is why, even
though his name was Abdullah, we called him
Spandi.
Yes, all of us were born during the time of
the Taliban, but I only ever heard my mother
talk of them as men making shadows so I guess
if she’d ever learnt to write she might have
been a poet. Instead, and as Allah willed it, she
swept the floors of the rich for a handful of afs
that she hid in her clothes and guarded through
the night. ‘There are thieves everywhere,’ she
would hiss, an angry whisper that tied the
points of
her eyebrows together.
And, of course, she was right. I was one of
them.
At the time, none of us thought of it as
stealing. As Jahid explained, because he knew
about such things, ‘It’s the moral distribution
of wealth.’
‘Sharing money,’ added Jamilla. ‘We have
nothing, they have everything, but they are
too greedy to help poor people like us, as it is
written in the Holy Quran, so we must help
them be good. In a way, they are paying for our
help. They just don’t know that they’re doing it.’
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Afghan Scene December 2009
Of course, not all the foreigners paid for our
‘help’ with closed eyes. Some of them actually
gave us money – sometimes happily, sometimes
out of shame, sometimes just to make us go
away, which doesn’t really work because one
group is quickly replaced by another when
dollars are walking the street. But it was
fun. Born under a shadow or not, me, Jahid,
Jamilla and Spandi spent our days in the sun,
distributing the
wealth of those who’d come to help us. ‘It’s
called reconstruction,’ Jahid informed us one day
as we sat on the kerb waiting for a 4×4 to jump
on. ‘The foreigners are here because they
bombed our country to kill the Taliban and
now they have to build it again. The World
Parliament made the order.’
‘But why did they want to kill the Taliban?’
‘Because they were friends with the Arabs
and their king Osama bin Laden had a house in
Kabul where he made hundreds of children with
his forty wives.
America hated bin Laden, and they knew he
was f@#$ing his wives so hard he would one
day have an army of thousands, maybe millions,
so they blew up a palace in their own country
and blamed it on him.
Then they came to Afghanistan to kill him,
his wives, his children and all of his friends. It’s
called politics, Fawad.’
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We weren’t rich like those in Wazir Akbar
Khan, Fawad, but we were happy. Now we
don’t even own a tree from which we can
hang ourselves.
Jahid was probably the most educated boy
I’d ever known. He always read the newspapers
we found thrown away in the street and he was
older than the rest of us, although how much
older nobody knows.
We don’t celebrate birthdays in Afghanistan;
we only remember victories and death. Jahid
was also the best thief I’d ever known. Some
days he would come away with handfuls of
dollars, taken from the pocket of some foreigner
as us smaller kids annoyed them to the point of
tears. But if I was born under a shadow, Jahid
was surely born under the full gaze of the devil
himself because the truth was he was incredibly
ugly. His teeth were stumpy smudges of brown
and one of his eyes danced to its own tune,
rolling in its socket like a marble in a box. He
also had a leg so lazy that he had to force it
into line with the other.
‘He’s a dirty little thief,’ my mother would
say. But she rarely had a kind word to say
about anyone in her sister’s family. ‘You keep
away from him . . . filling your head with such
nonsense.’
How my mother actually thought I could
keep away from Jahid was anyone’s guess. But
this is a common problem with adults: they ask
for the impossible and then make your
life a misery when you can’t obey
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them. The fact is I lived under the same roof as
Jahid, along with his fat cow of a mother, his
donkey of a father and two more of their dirtyfaced children, Wahid and Obaidullah.
‘All boys,’ my uncle would declare proudly.
‘And all ugly,’ my mother would mutter under
her chaddar, giving me a wink as she did so
because it was us against them and although
we had nothing at least our eyes looked in the
same direction.
Together, all seven of us shared four small
rooms and a hole in the yard. Not easy, then,
to keep away from cousin Jahid as my mother
demanded. It was an order President Karzai
would have had problems fulfilling.
However, my mother was never one for
explaining so she never told me how I should
keep my distance. In fact, for a while my mother
was never one for talking full stop.
On very rare occasions she would look up
from her sewing to talk about the house we
had once owned in Paghman. I was born there
but we fled before the pictures had time to
plant themselves in my head. So I found
my memories with the words of my
mother, watching
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her eyes grow wide with pride as she described
painted rooms lined with thick cushions of the
deepest red; curtains covering glass windows; a
kitchen so clean you could eat your food from
the floor; and a garden full of yellow roses.
‘We weren’t rich like those in Wazir Akbar
Khan, Fawad, but we were happy,’ she would tell
me. ‘Of course that was long before the Taliban
came. Now look at us! We don’t even own a tree
from which we can hang ourselves.’
I was no expert, but it was pretty clear my
mother was depressed.
She never talked about the family we had
lost, only the building that had once hidden
us – and not very effectively as it turned out.
However, sometimes at night I would hear her
whisper my sister’s name. She would then reach
for me, pulling me closer to her body. And that’s
how I knew she loved me.
On those occasions, lying almost as one on
the cushions we sat on during the day, I’d be
burning to talk. I’d feel the words crowding
in my head, waiting to spill from my mouth. I
wanted to know everything; about my father,
about my brothers, about Mina.
I was desperate to know
them, to have them
come alive in the
words of my
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mother. But she only ever whispered my sister’s
name, and like a coward I kept quiet because I
was afraid that if I spoke I would break the spell
and she would roll away from me.
By daylight, my mother would be gone from
my side, already awake and pulling on her
burqa. As she left the house she would bark a
list of orders that always started with ‘go to
school’ and ended with ‘keep away from Jahid’.
In the main these were orders I tried to
follow out of respect for my mother – in
Afghanistan our mothers are worth
more than all the gold that hides
in the basement of the President’s
palace – but it wasn’t easy.
And though I knew she wouldn’t
beat me if I disobeyed her, unlike
Jahid’s father who seemed to think
he had a God-given right to hit me
in the face on any day the sun came
up, she would have that look in her
eyes, a disappointed stare I
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They were mainly tall men with big guns,
metal jackets and bowl-shaped helmets
strapped to their heads
suspected had been there from the day I crept
out of the shadow.
I am only a boy, but I recognized our life was
difficult.
Of course, it had always been the same
for me, I knew no different. But my mother,
with her memories of deep-red cushions and
yellow roses, was trapped by a past I had little
knowledge of so I spent most of my days on the
outside of her prison, looking in. It had been
like this for as long as I could clearly remember,
yet I like to think she was happy once; laughing
with my father by the clear waters of Qagha
Lake, her green eyes – the eyes I have inherited
– smiling with love, her small hands, soft and
clean, playing with the hem of a golden veil.
My mother was once very beautiful – that’s
what my aunt told me in a surprising burst of
talking. But then the shadow fell, and although
she never said so, I guessed my mother blamed
me. I was a reminder of a past that had dragged
her into the flowerless hell that was her sister’s
house, and from what I could tell, my mother
hated her sister even more than she hated the
Taliban.
‘She’s just jealous!’ my mother once
screamed, loud enough for my aunt to hear in
the next room. ‘She’s always been jealous –
jealous of my ways, of the fact that I married an
educated man, of our once happy life . . . and I
long got over apologizing for it. If Allah blessed
her with the face of a burst watermelon and a
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body to match it is not my fault!
‘They’re women, they’re born that way,’
Jahid told me one afternoon as we escaped
once again from the screams and insults flying
around the house to steal from the foreigners in
the centre of town. ‘They are never happier than
when they are fighting with each other. When
you are older you will understand more.
Women are complicated, that’s what my
father says.’
And maybe Jahid was right. But the
argument that had just taken place had more
to do with money than being women. My aunt
wanted us to pay rent, but we could barely
afford the clothes on our backs and the food
in our bellies. The few afs mother earned from
cleaning houses along with the dollars I picked
up in the street were all we had.
‘Maybe if you gave a little more of your
dollars to your mother she wouldn’t be so
angry with my mother,’ I suggested, which was
obviously the wrong thing to suggest because
Jahid punched me hard in the head.
‘Look, you little bastard, my mother gave
your mother a roof when you had no place to
stay. Coming to our home begging like gypsy
filth, forcing us to give up our room and put
food in your idle f@#$ing bellies. How do you
think we felt? If we weren’t good Muslims your
mother would be pimping your a#$ to every
f@#$ing homo who passed by. In fact, you
want to help? Go pimp your own f@#$ing a#$!
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My aunt wanted us to pay rent, but we
could barely afford the clothes on our backs
and the food in our bellies
Pretty boy like you should make enough afs to
keep the women happy.’
‘Yeah?’ I spat back. ‘And maybe they’d pay
just as much money to keep the donkey’s ass
that’s your face away from them!’
And with that I ran off, leaving my cousin
shouting curses about camels and C%$#@s in
my direction while dragging his dead leg in fury
behind him.
That day I ran from Jahid until I thought my
legs would die. By the time I reached Cinema
Park I could barely breathe, and I realized I was
crying – for my mother and for my cousin. I had
been cruel. I knew that. I understood why he
was saving his money, why he buried it under
the wall when he thought no one was looking.
He wanted a wife. ‘One day I will be married to
the most beautiful woman in Afghanistan,’
he always bragged. ‘You wait. You’ll see.’
And that’s why he needed the money, because
with a face like his he’d have to come up with a
hell of a dowry to make that dream come true.
It’s not even as if he could rely on the force of
his personality to win over a wife. He had the
foulest mouth I had ever heard, even more so
than the National Police who cluttered the city’s
roundabouts, barking curses and demanding
bribes, even from crippled beggars. In fact, the
only other thing that could have saved Jahid
was school, where he’d shown an unlikely
talent. He threw himself into his learning as
only a boy with no friends can do. But then the
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torment and the beatings he took day after day
finally drove him away and he became
increasingly hard.
My country can be a tough place to live in if
you’re poor, but it’s even tougher if you’re poor
and ugly. And now Jahid was like stone; a stone
that knows he will never find a woman who will
willingly marry him, but whose father might
agree for the right price. ‘Come on, Fawad, let’s
go to Chicken Street.’
Through my tears I saw Jamilla standing
before me, the sun throwing an angel’s light
around her body. She was small, like me. And
she was pretty. Jamilla reached for my hand and
I dragged myself up from the ground to stand
by her side, wiping my face dry on the sleeves of
my clothes.
‘Jahid,’ I said by way of explanation.
Jamilla nodded. She didn’t talk much, but I
guessed she would grow into that if Jahid was
right about the ways of women. Jamilla was
my main rival on Chicken Street. She cleaned
up with the foreign men who melted under the
gaze of her big brown eyes while I cleaned up
with the women who fell in love with my big
green eyes.
We were a good team whose pickings pretty
much depended on who was passing by, so if we
found ourselves working on the same day we
would split our money.
Fridays were the best, though. It was a
holiday, there was no school, no work, and the
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foreigners would come, stepping out of their
Land Cruisers to
trawl Kabul’s tourist area for souvenirs of
‘war-torn’ Afghanistan: jewellery boxes made of
lapis lazuli; silver imported from Pakistan; guns
and knives
apparently dating back to the Anglo-Afghan
wars; pakouls; patus, blankets, carpets, wall
hangings, bright-coloured scarves and blue
burqas. Of course, if they walked twenty
minutes into the heaving mess of Kabul’s river
bazaar they would find all these items for half
the price, but the foreigners were either too
scared or too lazy to make the journey – and
too rich to care about the extra dollars that
would feed most of our families for a week.
Still, as Jahid noted, their laziness was good for
business, and Chicken Street was their Mecca.
Along with the aid workers, now and again
we would see white-faced soldiers hunched
over the counters of stores selling silver, looking
at rings and bracelets for the wives they’d left
behind in their own countries.
They were mainly tall men with big guns,
metal jackets and bowl-shaped helmets
strapped to their heads. They came in groups of
four or five and one would always stand guard
in the street as the others did their shopping,
watching out for suicide bombers. ‘America
good!’ we would shout – a trick that always
earned us a couple of dollars. Money in hand,
we would then move away, further
down the street, just in
case there were
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actually suicide bombers around. Most of the
other foreigners, though, were less interested
in America so we used different tactics to
win their dollars, following them as they
weaved their way from shop to shop yelling
out all the English we could remember. ‘Hello,
mister! Hello, missus! How are you? I am your
bodyguard! No, come this way, I find you good
price.’ And we would take their hands and drag
them to a store where we could earn a few
afs’ commission. Most of us were on the
payroll of four or more shopkeepers, but
only if we brought in customers. Therefore,
if the foreigners didn’t bend to our thinking,
we would follow them into stores, tutting
and shaking our heads in pretend concern,
but carefully out of sight of the owners. ‘No,
missus, he is thief, very bad price. Come, I show
you good price.’ We would then lead them to
the shops that paid us, telling the owners of
the figure given by one of their rivals so that he
could begin his bargaining at a lower but still
profitable price.
Meanwhile, as the foreigners argued a few
extra dollars away, the old women who also
worked the street but knew no English would
descend, hovering in shop doorways to reach
out with their dirty hands, grab at elbows and
cry into their burqas. They all come from the
same family, but the foreigners don’t know this
and as woman after woman would come to
break down in tears pleading for money for her
sick, dying baby, this would usually be the point
when it became too much for the westerners
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and they would climb back into their cars, trying
to avoid our eyes as their
drivers sped them away from our poverty and
back to their privileged lives.
However, as the Land Cruisers screeched out
of Chicken Street and into the gridlocked traffic
of Shahr-e Naw, Spandi would appear to tap his
black
fingers on their windows and hold out the
bitter, smoking tin of herbs that we call ‘spand’,
the smell of which was so unbelievably foul
it was said to chase away evil spirits. Without
doubt this was the worst of all our jobs because
the smoke gets in your hair and your eyes
and your chest and you end up looking like
death. But the money is pretty OK because even
if the tourists aren’t superstitious it’s hard to
ignore a boy at a car window whose scarred
face is the colour of ash.
However, on a good day in Chicken Street
we didn’t need to hustle. The foreign women
would happily hand over their bags as they
struggled with headscarves they had yet to
grow used to, and I would carry their shopping
until they called it a day, sometimes earning
five dollars for my trouble. Jamilla would
smile prettily and get the same for carrying
nothing.
‘And what is your name?’ the women
would ask slowly. Pretty white faces with
smiling red lips. ‘Fawad,’ I would tell them.
‘Your English is very good. Do you go to
school?’
‘Yes. School. Every day. I like very much.’
And it was true, we all went to school –
even the girls if their fathers let them – but
the days were short and the holidays long
with months off in the winter and summer
when it became too cold or too hot to
study. However, the English we learnt came
only from the street. It was easy to pick up
and the foreigners liked to teach us.
And even if Jahid was correct and they
did come to bomb our country and rebuild
it again, I quite liked the foreigners with
their sweaty white faces and fat pockets
– which was just as well really, because
that day I returned to my aunt’s house to
be told we were going to live with three of
them. ϻ
Andrea Busfield came to Afghanistan in 2001 and left in 2008. A former
editor of Afghan Scene Magazine, she is currently working on her second
novel, Aphrodite’s War. Born Under a Million Shadows stormed into the UK
bestseller list when it was published earlier this year and has already been
translated into 18 languages. Available on amazon.
www.afghanscene.com
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Share your event or party pics with Aghan Scene. email [email protected]
SANTA KLAUSS: Emilie gets Christmassy with the Italian Mr Klauss
BEANIE SCENE: Covered-up Candice with former film reviewer
Havanna Marking
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GAELIC LADIES: Embassy favourites Caitlin and Siobhan remember
their Pilgrim Fathers
ROOKIE BROOKIE: ABC Nick and new in town Tory MP Brooks at
a Thanksgiving feast
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AZURE THING: Brit dips Adelaide and Gary DOING BIRD: DFID girl Gemma and
look dapper at the American embassy ball Colonel Terry at the Marine’s Embassy Ball
FINAL LINE UP: Engineer Wadood, Maqsood, Tamim, Remi, Atiq
and Wadood at Maqsood’s leaving day
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MAUVERS AND SHAKERS: Beeb man Boone with
pruple haired TV girl Tiggy at a BBC dinner
MEDICINE MEN: Silver fox JD makes his Scene debut watching
Joannie feed George their magic stew
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COY STORY: Kabul honey Jackie and
poseur Andrew North at the BBC party
ON ANAND: Non-stop scoop machine Anand MATT-ER OF TASTE?: Oxfam Ashley at GNC’s
Gopal at Ambassador Eikenberry’s roof top
seasonal stew night
JOKE’S ON TWO: Michelle and Nick and
George’s Halloween bash
KICKER: Legal eagle Marike fireside at
L’Atmosphere
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TWO IN THE HAND: Celebrity chef’s Waqil
and Timur with their Thanksgiving birds
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2009
Afghan
FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION: Aleem tells the world he’s mission
critical, in the days before the lock down
PICTURE THIS: Top snappers Adam and
Paula at Tamim’s Good Tmes lunch
60
Afghan Scene
Scene December
December 2009
2009
Afghan
KIM AGAIN?: Indy man Kim Sengupta with Times
photographer Peter Nicholls at L’Atmosphere
KUSH ME QUICK: Kabul lovelies Kushbu
and Lianne at the GNC seasonal stew
night
BARRIE-STIR: Sauce pot Sophie Barrie
hugs Big Si at her emotional farewell
www.afghanscene.com
www.afghanscene.com
BEL AIRS: Kabul buddies Belinda and Kim
at Tamim’s Good Times lunch
MCNAUGHTY: UNAMA’s press man Dan
McNorton sets the record straight at a
private soiree
MOVERS AND BAKERS: Beeb legend Lyse Doucet
with mum to be Aryn Baker, at the Good Times
garden party
TAMI’S MALLET: Super host Tamim with a
croquet mallet at his Good Time’s garden party
OCEAN’S A HEART: Mr and Mrs Erik
and Erin Pacific at the Good Times
garden party
TREASURE PETS: US treasury sec Stuart with super
pooch Tootsie at the garden party
www.afghanscene.com
www.afghanscene.com
Afghan Scene
Scene December
December 2009
2009
Afghan
61
0ARTY scene
0ARTY scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
PHONE SICK: Journo Josh keeps the office sweet at the Good Times
garden party
TETE MATES: Fancoise and Herve share
a fireside moment at L’Atmo
62
Afghan Scene December 2009
GETTING FRISKY: Latmo doorman and Esmat size up life
AMAN’D & DANGEROUS: Aman and
Matteo at Timur’s Thanksgiving feast
TURBO ROOSTER: Game bird Constance and Seb
Turbot at a Thanksgiving turkey supper
www.afghanscene.com
ARE YOU BEING SERVED?: Latmo legend
Pir Mohammad posing at the bar
FORT-UNE FAVOURS THE FIXERS: Journo
Noor poses in front of Herat’s old forts
DAZ FRIGHT: Security man Daz with his missus Helen
at Sophie’s farewell
www.afghanscene.com
BUMP AND RHIND: Scene favourites Ali Rhind
with filmmaker Sam French at Sophie’s farewell
SHAWLY HOT: Dr Thalia and TMF’s Joannie all scarved up at L’Atmophere
Afghan Scene December 2009
63
&OOD scene
&OOD scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
Yo,
Sushi!
OUT OF HARAM’S WAY: Seafood tempura style at Silk Road Kabul
I
t has long been one of the culinary
oddities of Afghanistan that to get really
good Sushi you have to go all the way to
Bamiyan and stay at Hotel Silk Road.
The intrepid Japanese journalist, who first
came to the country in 1993, set the place
up in 2007 for travellers who want to see one
of the wonders of Afghanistan in reasonable
comfort.
Visitors now flock to her hotel to stay in
beautifully appointed rooms with wonderful
views across the Bamiyan valley to the giant
Buddha niches in the cliff face opposite.
Not only can Hiromi and her Afghan
husband boast the country’s best (and only)
boutique hotel, she also oversees one of
Afghanistan’s finest kitchens which serves up
excellent Japanese, Indian and western food in
the Silk Road’s immaculately clean dining room.
At long last Kabul has a proper sushi
restaurant but AFGHAN SCENE warns
diners to book ahead to avoid
disappointment
Bentoya, Galleria, Kolola Pushta, opposite Dutch
Embassy, next to Wakhan Cafe
Phone number: +93-(0)798-405486
64
Afghan Scene December 2009
www.afghanscene.com
www.afghanscene.com
Both Laura Bush and President Karzai
have enjoyed lunches at the hotel whilst on
whistle stop tours of Bamiyan.
But with winter putting the hotel into
hibernation, Hiromi and some of her trusted
staff have decamped to Kabul to set up the
latest wing of an expanding empire that also
includes a handicrafts business.
Sushi enthusiasts can now sample from
the small but perfectly formed menu whilst
inspecting some of those handicraft wares,
which include bags and rather stylish hats
made out of kilims and chapans.
The food comes with rice, miso soup and
the main event, whether it is the excellent
chicken teriyaki, seafood tempura or
Hiromi’s special vegetable curry made with
an ingenious mixture of Japanese and Indian
spices.
Afghan Scene December 2009
65
Hit
target
&OOD scene
&AREWELL scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
the
with
message!
your
GOURM-AID: Hotelier and super chef Hiromi uses business to help the poor
Everything is spotlessly clean and presented
with a thoroughly Japanese attention to
detail – Hiromi makes regular trips out of
Afghanistan just to stock up on seaweed and
other vital sushi ingredients.
And the prices are all amazingly reasonable
given how expensive a mediocre lunch can be
in so many of Kabul’s other restaurants. Most
dishes are either $10 or $15.
The Bentoya Restaurant – to give it it’s full
name – is just one of five enterprises operating
out of a charming old house in Kulola-Pushta
which many years ago was once owned by the
mayor of Kabul.
Launched in mid-November as The Galleria,
the five shops sell calligraphy, clothes, carpets
and handicrafts – as well as the fantastic sushi.
But there is no risk of having too much
66
Afghan Scene December 2009
Have you considered advertising in
Afghanistan's leading magazine
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With over 8,000 copies distributed
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of a good thing at Bentoya – there are
just four tables in the small eating area
which would struggle to accommodate
more than fourteen people.
Hiromi, who as well as running a hotel,
a handicraft business and doing her day
job reporting for the Koyoto News, says
she is in no hurry to expand.
While some extra tables may be added
outside in the summer, she intends to
keep numbers down for the time being.
She says the only way to guarantee you
will be able to eat is to phone ahead to
book a precious place for lunch (or order
takeaway for dinner).
So, even though you don’t have to go
to Bamiyan any more, gourmet sushi is set
to remain a rare treat in Kabul. ϻ
www.afghanscene.com
For full details email
[email protected]
www.afghanscene.com
www.afghanscene.com
25
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
www.afghanscene.com
www.afghanscene.com
Afghan Scene December 2009
&AREWELL scene
&AREWELL scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
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Afghan Scene December 2009
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Afghan Scene December 2009
59
%SSENTIAL scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan %SSENTIALS
7HERE TO STAY WHERE TO EAT WHERE TO 3HOP !ND HOW TO PAY FOR IT
!FGHAN 3CENE -AKING ,IFE %ASIER
Hotels and Guesthouses
Restaurants
Kabul Serena Hotel
Froshgah Street
www.serenahotels.com
Tel: 0799 654 000
Delivery
Easyfood
Delivers from any restaurant
to your home
www.easyfood.af
Tel: 0796 555 000, 0796
555 001
Safi Landmark Hotel & Suites
Charahi Ansari
www.safilandmarkhotelsuites.com
Tel: 0202 203 131
The Inter Continental Hotel
Baghe Bala Road
www.intercontinentalkabul.com
Tel: 0202 201 321
Gandamack Lodge
Sherpur Square
www.gandamacklodge.co.uk
Tel: 0700 276 937
Mustafa Hotel
Charahi Sadarat
www.mustafahotel.com
Tel: 070 276 021
Heetal Plaza Hotel
Street 14, Wazir Akbar Khan
www.heetal.com
Tel: 0799 167 824, 0799 159 697
UNICA Guest House
Kolola Pushta, opposite
Royal Mattress
Tel: 0797 676 357
The International Club
Haji Yaqoob Square, Street 3, Shar-e
Naw. Tel: 0774 763 858
Golden Star Hotel
Charrhay Haji Yaqoob,
Shar-e Naw. www.kabulgoldenstarhotel.com
Tel: 0799 333 088, 0799 557 281
Roshan Hotel
Charaye Turabaz Khan,
Shar-e Naw.
Tel: 0799 335 424
72
AfghanScene
SceneDecember
December2009
2009
Afghan
Afghan
Rumi
Qala-e Fatullah Main Rd,
between Streets 5 & 6
Tel: 0799 557 021
Sufi
Muslim Street, Shar-e Naw
www.sufi.com.af Tel: 0774
212 256, 0700 210 651
Herat Restaurant
Shar-e Naw, main road,
Diagonally opposite Cinema
Park
Khosha Restaurant
Above the Golden Star
Hotel. Tel: 0799 888 999
Mixed/Western
The Lounge
Lane 2, left, off Street 15,
Wazir Akbar Khan. Tel: 0796
174 718, 0700 037 634
Fat Man/What-a-Burger Cafe
Wazir Akbar Khan, main
road, On the bend near
Masoud Circle Tel: 0700 298
301, 0777 151 510
L’Atmosphere
Street 4, Taimani
Tel: 0798 224 982, 0798
413 872
Flower Street Café
Street 2, Qala-e Fatullah.
Tel: 0700 293 124, 0799
356 319
Supermarkets, Grocers & Butchers
Le Bistro
One street up from Chicken
Street, Behind the MOI,
Shar-e Naw Tel: 0799-598852
Italian/Pizza
Everest Pizza
Street 10, Wazir Akbar Khan
www.everestpizza.com
Tel: 0700 263 636, 0779 317 979
Boccaccio
Street 10, Wazir Akbar Khan
Tel: 0799 200 600
Red Hot Sizzlin’ Steakhouse
District 16, Macroyan 1, Nader
Hill Area Tel: 0799 733 468
Bella Italia
Street 14, Wazir Akbar Khan
Tel: 0799 600 666
Spinneys
Wazir Akbar Khan, opposite British
Embassy
Le Pelican Cafe du Kabul
Darulaman Road, almost
opposite the Russian Embassy.
Bright orange guard box.
Springfield Restaurant
Lane 3, Street 15,Wazir Akbar
Khan Tel: 0799 001 520
Finest
Wazir Akbar Khan Roundabout
Cabul Coffeehouse & Café
Street 6, on the left, Qale-e Fatullah Tel: 0752 005 275
Tex Mex
La Cantina
Third left off Butcher St,
Shar-e Naw
Tel: 0798 271 915
Lebanese
Taverne du Liban
Street 15, Lane 3,
Wazir Akbar Khan
Tel: 0799 828 376
The Grill
Street 15, Wazir Akbar Khan.
Tel: 0799 818 283,
0799 792 879
Cedar House
Behind Kabul City Centre,
Shar-e Naw Tel: 0799-121412
Turkish
Istanbul
Main road, on the left, between
Massoud Circle Jalalabad Road
Roundabout.
Tel: 0799-407818
Iranian
Shandiz
Pakistan Embassy Street, off
Street 14 Wazir Akbar Khan
Tel: 0799-342928
www.afghanscene.com
Indian
Namaste
Street 15, Wazir Akbar Khan,
Between lanes 2 and 3 on the
right. Tel: 0772 011 120
A-One
Bottom of Shar-e Naw Park
Chelsea
Shar-e Naw main road, opposite Kabul
Bank
Fat Man Forest
Wazir Akbar Khan, main road.
Enyat Modern Butcher
Qala-e Fatullah main road,
Near street four
Delhi Darbar
Shar-e Naw, close to UK Sports
Tel: 0799 324 899
ATMs
Anar Restaurant
Lane 3, Street 14,
Wazir Akbar Khan
Tel: 0799 567 291
AIB Main Office, Opposite Camp Eggers (AIB)
Chinese
Golden Key Seafood
Restaurant
Lane 4, Street 13, Wazir Akbar
Khan. Tel: 0799 002 800, 0799
343 319
Kabul City Centre, Shar-e Naw (AIB
AIB Shar-e Naw Branch, next to Chelsea
Supermarket (AIB)
HQ ISAF, Outside Cianos Pizzeria, US
Embassy Street (AIB)
KAIA Military Airbase, Outside Cianos
Pizzeria, Airport (AIB)
Thai
Mai Thai
House 38, Lane 2, Street 15,
Wazir Akbar Khan
Tel:0796 423 040
Finest Supermarket, Wazir Akbar Khan
(AIB)
Korean
New World
Between Charayi Haji Yacub
and Charayi Ansari, on the
right. Shar-e Naw.
Tel: 0799 199 509
Standard Chartered Branch, Street 10,
Wazir Akbar Khan (Standard Chartered)
www.afghanscene.com
World Bank Guard Hut, Street 15 Wazir
Akbar Khan (Standard Chartered)
Want to get on the Afghan
Essentials list of places to eat
and sleep?
Contact [email protected]
Afghan Scene December 2009
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&AREWELL scene
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Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
LOVING COUPLE: Nikolaus and Riona share a moment
&AREWELL TO
5RUZGAN
Human rights worker NIKOLAUS GRUBECK looks back on his time in Afghanistan
76
Afghan Scene December 2009
www.afghanscene.com
SHADY CHARACTER: Nik and one of his interlocutors
Best of times?
Worst of times?
Traveling around Afghanistan as a tourist with
my father when he came out to visit me. And
every time an i-Gourmet package arrived in
Uruzgan around a month after I ordered it who would have though that over-ripe cheese
could ever be so exciting!
Investigating Taliban attacks on civilians, some
of the testimony was deeply distressing. I
particularly remember one interview with an old
man in Kunar: He had watched his son being
executed by the Taliban. The son was a student
across the border and had come back to visit
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Afghan Scene December 2009
77
&AREWELL scene
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
friends and family. His father showed me his
picture and explained how the boy had made
the mistake of visiting an American base “as a
tourist”, to get soft drinks and candy. On that
day we interviewed around 10 other families, all
of whom had similar stories to tell.
our compound is being rocketed or whether
the Dutch are on the range and haven’t told us
again.
Favourite place in Afghanistan?
Spending lots of time with the AIHRC Special
Investigations Team, having endless cups of
shin-chai. The luxury of so many good friends
living in close proximity. And of course getting
stuck in random places, playing Scrabble and
rationing provisions.
Lots of places actually. Dragon Valley in Bamyan
at sunset for beautiful scenery; the Bistro in
Kabul for Sunday brunch; the Governor’s rooftop
terrace in Tirin Kot for star-/ drone gazing;
L’Atmo for the autumn bonfires & gossip;
Spera district in Khost for being as remote as
anywhere I visited in Afghanistan; and the
UNHAS flight out for white sand beaches &
cocktails.
What will you miss the least?
What happens next?
Air quality in Kabul; malfunctioning bukharis;
getting stuck at Kandahar Air Field; hearing
random explosions and not knowing whether
I’m living in London now, qualifying as a
barrister and will then start with a chambers
that specializes in human rights related work. ϻ
What will you miss the most?
WHITE OUT: Human rights man braves the elements in Khost
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Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
Afghan Scene December 2009
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