It’s another snowy day in Afghanistan. Had some interesting conversations with some
colleagues. What started it off was a conversation
I had with an American Afghan who is here doing atmospherics. I asked if his family celebrates No Ruz—the
traditional New Year or spring celebration.
It is almost universally celebrated in Iran and Tajikistan. It is celebrated in many areas here in the
north among the Tajik and Hazara and Farsiwan.
I asked if his family celebrated it.
He said it was against Islam and all the mullahs have come out against
it. He was actually engaged in a
conversation about this subject with another fellow when I went over to his
office. He said that according to Islam
you are only suppose to have two celebrations, the one to break the fast after
Ramadan and the celebration of Abraham’s devotion to God. Either according to the Qoran or one of the
Hadiths he said that Mohammad was brought some food from a celebration and he
said it was good, but the Hadith went no further than that. My colleague said that this life is a test
and that it is temporary here and Moslems should follow in the footsteps of
Mohammad. If he didn’t celebrate it,
then we shouldn’t either. He again
reiterated that all the Mullahs agreed it should not be celebrated.
I told him that if that was the case then
why did all the Mullahs celebrate Women’s Day.
I attended this celebration and the head of the Ulema was there. Nor would birthdays, anniversaries,
graduations, or other events be celebrated, because they were also not
celebrated in Mohammad’s time. He couldn’t
really give me a satisfactory response after that. I told him that Iranians consider themselves
pious Muslims as well as Tajikis and many here in the north, but that they
celebrate No Ruz. He said it is a
celebration of the “Fire Worshippers” or Zoroastrians. I told him that this celebration predates
Zoroastrianism and that Zoroastrians and pre-Zoroastrians celebrated this
event. I also told him that Zoroastrians
were not “Fire Worshippers” but that the fire is a symbol much like the cross
is a sacred symbol of many Christians. I
told him that my daughter went to a pre No Ruz celebration ceremony back home
and he said that is why the Mullahs don’t want them celebrating No Ruz here
because it is too close to Zoroastrian practices. Again, I had to remind him that these
practices are much older than Zoroaster himself.
I said it was fine that if people believe
the Mullahs that they should do what they think is right, but that they should
not impose their own view of Islam on other Moslems, that there are many
Moslems in the world who are devout, who have local or traditional
celebrations, and that they should not be persecuted for celebrations. It is the same old struggle, much the same as
in the U.S. When people become zealots
and want to impose their beliefs on others, no matter what it is, it is wrong. There is a line between personal beliefs and
rights. I hope that in the U.S., we are
able to maintain our ability to preserve our basic freedoms. I don’t want religious laws, no matter what
they are imposed on me. I am grateful to
live in a place where there is, at least in part, a separation of church and
state.
In the mean time, it is snowing again—at least
a foot of snow—just today. It has been
snowing since this morning and it is past 3PM now and it is still coming
down.
I went on several field trips. First was the celebration at the Governor’s
Compound to celebrate International Women’s Day. I don’t know if it was strange or not, but I
went up the aisles clear to the top and shook nearly all the hands of the women
who were in attendance. I saw a lot of
beautiful faces, young and old, rich and poor.
There were some adorable sweet girls who were deaf in attendance. They were so happy I met with them. They told me they were deaf in sign language and
I told them I loved them. It was
impressive and I hope to include some photographs. The little girls that I met at the school for
children of imprisoned parents were there.
They sang. It was beautiful. The head of the provincial ulema gave a fiery
speech, as well as the governor and the mullah I had met earlier. The mullah gave the opening prayer from the
Qoran. It was very beautiful. The mayor was there, the police commander and
I had a few sights of the only two female police women I have seen. I was frisked by the women before I went
in. For good reason apparently. The head of the ulema was targed with an IED
after the celebrations. A woman who sat
with her daughter and the girls from the school was seated at the end of my
row. When I left, she gave my hand a
very affectionate squeeze. It was wonderful
to feel that connection to someone who has grown up half way around the world
from me. Anosha was there. She took me after the celebration to the
Governor’s office. We chatted with
him. She also introduced me to the
mayor. A very handsome fellow. I told Anosha, he reminded me of my son. Afterwards, I showed Anosha, my son’s photo
and she agreed they looked similarly.
She told me he is a famous wrestler.
It is funny my son’s legs are soooo much like his.
My other trip was to Anosha’s office
downtown. My team leader and I went with
her and her driver to her office. We had
the best meal since I have been in Afghanistan.
Eggplant, fresh kabob, yoghurt, salad-e Shirazi, fresh bread, tea and
wonderful sweets. We had a wonderful
conversation with her assistant. A
friendly young man working to improve his language skills. She then took us to
the jewelry making school. It was
impressive. It contained a complete
lapidary studio where not only fixings are made from molten silver or gold or
brass, but also where semi-precious stones are turned into jewelry items. It was very nice to see how funds have been
used to create places where people can develop industries. The young men who worked there were smart and
ambitious. One even took me aside and
showed me a photograph of his wife. He
was so in love. Many men here love and
respect their wives and daughters. But,
we also see and hear the stories of those who have been maltreated.
My last trip was a tiring one. We drove up to Imam Sahib, the base where
soldiers were attacked and wounded.
Anosha and I visited two of them who were brought to the hospital here. Apparently, all have recovered except one who
had a piece of shrapnel pierce his brain and apparently will lose the sight in
one eye. Then we went up further to
Tash-kazar. This is close to the
Tajikistan border. We had a meeting with
the people there to hear what they were doing and develop ways of working
together. We went with the USAID and
USDA rep here. It was a really rough
trip. I had to change places with my
team leader because he has a pinched nerve in his neck and he couldn’t bear
being thrown up and down in the seat for hours on end. I could feel it in my back when I got back,
but it wasn’t so bad for me.
Ingo went home. I miss him already. He took the sunshine and now winter has
returned again. I am glad he got out of
here before the storm came. He should be
home by now. The drama continues here—Dutch,
Germans, Belgians, Americans primarily.
Some tensions between the Dutch and
Germans—from what I understand hard feelings remaining from post
WWII. The Belgians seem to get along
with everyone.
I also have a special friend from the cafeteria. I don’t even know his name, but he is so
sweet. He knows how much I dislike the
food and the other day he came running out after me, Miss Sandra Miss Sandra….He
said wait a minute he had something for me.
He ran in and grabbed a sack full of wonderful Nepalese food. There is a handful of men here from Nepal and a few other countries
who work in the kitchen. He had made me
spicy chicken and rice for dinner. He is
such a kind man.
Well, so much for now. The sky is gray, I am listening to 1930s and
1940s music on the internet, writing to you, and hoping all is well.
Love to all, Sandy
