Sal-e No Tabrik Bashad

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