I know I'm supposed to be done with Afghanistan-- a girl's gotta move on to Albania sometime, right? However, I feel compelled to put in just two more cents!
Last year, my friend Jessica and I went to The Helmand, a classy Afghan restaurant in Baltimore. I still think about that meal! We shared a wonderful appetizer, called kaddo bourani, which is pan-fried and baked baby pumpkin seasoned with sugar and served with a garlicky yogurt sauce. A few months ago, I was delighted to find this recipe for kaddo bourani. I tried to use canned pumpkin instead of the specified fresh baby sugar pumpkin, which is a pathetic shortcut. Amazingly, it was still delicious, which is a testament to the innate brilliance of this dish!
You know what, I've never seen a casual Afghan restaurant. And I sure haven't seen any that resemble the vast multitudes of Chinese carry-outs and Mexican taco stands. Does this speak to Afghans' incredible pride in their culture? Not trying to infer too much here, but just a thought...
Another item of note is that the owner of The Helmand, Quayam Karzai, is the brother of Afghan president Hamid Karzai!
Hmm...I just read that there is another restaurant called The Helmand. This one is located in San Francisco, and its owner Mahmoud Karzai also claims to be the brother of Hamid. Curious and curiouser....
Friday, June 15, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Life Happens At Lunch Hour
Despite my valiant reading effort, which among other items has included a historical account, a policy article and not one but two absolutely wonderful Afghan-American autobiographies, I feel that I haven't quite found what I'm looking for. So, in hopes of hearing about a tiny, real, unedited, joyful tidbit of Afghan pride, I sought out the only Afghans I know of in town: at the Khyber Pass restaurant in Hillcrest.
On my lunch break today, I sat outside in the summer breeze and tried to strike up small talk with my waiter, Assan, who apologized for being "not very good at speaking." I told him I was writing a paper about Afghanistan (if he admittedly wasn't the most comfortable with English, I figured "blog" would be a tricky sticking point in conversation), and asked him if he could tell me something he really loved about the country. Anything: his favorite family recipe, favorite place, favorite activity (is kite-flying in Afghanistan really the preferred pastime of childhood, or just a romantic premise around which to frame a timely and appealing best-selling novel?). Assan smiled, fumbled a bit, said something about pride and freedom, and hurried off. He sent someone else out to bring my Lamb Kachaloo Chalow.
I thought I had perhaps insulted him. He certainly could have felt affronted, this tiny little high-heeled and wrap-dressed American walking into his restaurant and requesting that he divulge his spirit on the spot, perceivably in exchange for a healthy tip and her continued patronage.
But at the end of my meal, he came out and said, "I have been thinking very much about your question, and it is difficult for me to put into words. My daughter and other members of the family could explain better than I can." He asked for my name and phone number and said he would have his daughter call me. So, that was my small adventure for the day. I hope to hear from Assan's daughter soon; in the meantime, I will begin my readings on the next country.
Does anyone happen to know an ethnic Albanian living in San Diego, perchance?
On my lunch break today, I sat outside in the summer breeze and tried to strike up small talk with my waiter, Assan, who apologized for being "not very good at speaking." I told him I was writing a paper about Afghanistan (if he admittedly wasn't the most comfortable with English, I figured "blog" would be a tricky sticking point in conversation), and asked him if he could tell me something he really loved about the country. Anything: his favorite family recipe, favorite place, favorite activity (is kite-flying in Afghanistan really the preferred pastime of childhood, or just a romantic premise around which to frame a timely and appealing best-selling novel?). Assan smiled, fumbled a bit, said something about pride and freedom, and hurried off. He sent someone else out to bring my Lamb Kachaloo Chalow.
I thought I had perhaps insulted him. He certainly could have felt affronted, this tiny little high-heeled and wrap-dressed American walking into his restaurant and requesting that he divulge his spirit on the spot, perceivably in exchange for a healthy tip and her continued patronage.
But at the end of my meal, he came out and said, "I have been thinking very much about your question, and it is difficult for me to put into words. My daughter and other members of the family could explain better than I can." He asked for my name and phone number and said he would have his daughter call me. So, that was my small adventure for the day. I hope to hear from Assan's daughter soon; in the meantime, I will begin my readings on the next country.
Does anyone happen to know an ethnic Albanian living in San Diego, perchance?
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Putting Two and Two Together...
Everyone has heard a lot about Afghanistan in recent years. I am amazed, however, at a couple of things that we have heard little or nothing about. During the course of my readings, beginning with Afghanistan: A Short History of Its People and Politics, I came to understand much more about this country that has been roped backwards so many times that today it is tied up in knots. I didn't begin this effort in hopes of delivering a history lesson with each post, but here goes, because I think this is really important to understanding Afghan pride and persuasions.
We all know that before the rise of the diabolical Taliban, the Soviets invaded Afghanistan and effectively buried the country. The biggest thing I don't remember ever reading about in the newspaper or hearing on TV is that prior to the Soviets, the British invaded Afghanistan. More than once. Three times, actually. These incursions and their ensuing casualties were significant enough to warrant names: the First, Second, and Third Anglo-Afghan Wars. All were fought between about 1839-1919, and the Afghans effectively ousted the British each time.
Let me say that again: in three successive wars, the people of Afghanistan defeated the mighty British military three times. At the time, the British were the most formidable force in the world. Imagine the pride and the ferocity of spirit that Afghans must have felt after driving out those powerful white colonialists three times!
The media only seems to discuss the Soviet invasion, which makes sense in many ways. The Soviet occupation was the most recent "outside" involvement in Afghanistan; it was devastating; and as Americans we readily subscribe to any example of communist failure. Discussing the British failure in Afghanistan, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. Nobody is eager to reminisce about the Brits, those good old chaps, our partners in the War on Terror and Allied friends for a century, going home with their coattails between their knobby knees. Like it or not, that did happen; and it is critical to understanding the state of Afghanistan as it is today!
One of the greatest problems facing coalition forces in Afghanistan is the fact that so many members of al-Qaeda, including Osama himself, have gone into hiding. We know that many terrorists are harbored in neighboring Pakistan. We blame this on Pakistani military and government duplicity, and to some degree this is certainly true.
What we fail to realize, however, is that crossing the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan has been a shady yet common excursion for decades, and in large part it is due to nineteenth-century British policy. The border between Pakistan and Afghanistan is called the Durand Line, and it was drawn in 1893 before Pakistan was even a country (at the time, the line separated Afghanistan and what was then India). The British drew the line, and it completely divided the largest demographic ethnicity in Afghanistan, the Pashtuns. Speculation states that the British divided the Pashtuns intentionally to thwart any potential uprising from this large ethnic nation.
Afghanistan notes that when British India achieved independence and was broken up into two countries (India and Pakistan), the British offered the Pashtuns on the Indian side of the Durand Line “the sole choice of joining one of the successor powers, India or Pakistan, and rejected that there also should be the choice of…union with Afghanistan…The Afghans protested vigorously and, when their protests went unheeded, achieved the distinction of being the only country to vote against Pakistan’s admission to the United Nations (p. 147).” There actually was (and presumably still is, although it is clear today which state is more powerful) great animosity between Afghanistan and Pakistan, contrary to our perception that they work together so collusively.
What does all of this mean to us, as Americans, today? Well, for a fiercely independent people like the Afghans, the mere presence of a line drawn on a map wasn’t going to deter them from visiting their fellow Pashtuns in Pakistan or vice versa. They crossed over regardless of the British line of demarcation, and it seems that neither government really enforced its boundaries. Over the years, the local people grew intimately familiar with the mountain passes and tunnels across the so-called border. Afghanistan’s endless state of war and oppression in recent decades hasn’t helped, either; even as Pakistan sought to guard the border more readily, thousands upon thousands of Afghan refugees desperately sought refuge with Pashtun friends and family on the other side, and risked their lives to learn more intimately the most remote and secret paths across.
It has been really frustrating to many Americans that we cannot seem to catch Osama bin Laden and more of the Taliban, who are largely Pashtun; but when you look at it in a historical context, it’s easy to understand why. In large part, the Western world (our dear Brits) had a lot to do with creating this disastrous web of communication and cartography; the Soviets exacerbated it; and now we must work to untangle what we can.
We all know that before the rise of the diabolical Taliban, the Soviets invaded Afghanistan and effectively buried the country. The biggest thing I don't remember ever reading about in the newspaper or hearing on TV is that prior to the Soviets, the British invaded Afghanistan. More than once. Three times, actually. These incursions and their ensuing casualties were significant enough to warrant names: the First, Second, and Third Anglo-Afghan Wars. All were fought between about 1839-1919, and the Afghans effectively ousted the British each time.
Let me say that again: in three successive wars, the people of Afghanistan defeated the mighty British military three times. At the time, the British were the most formidable force in the world. Imagine the pride and the ferocity of spirit that Afghans must have felt after driving out those powerful white colonialists three times!
The media only seems to discuss the Soviet invasion, which makes sense in many ways. The Soviet occupation was the most recent "outside" involvement in Afghanistan; it was devastating; and as Americans we readily subscribe to any example of communist failure. Discussing the British failure in Afghanistan, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. Nobody is eager to reminisce about the Brits, those good old chaps, our partners in the War on Terror and Allied friends for a century, going home with their coattails between their knobby knees. Like it or not, that did happen; and it is critical to understanding the state of Afghanistan as it is today!
One of the greatest problems facing coalition forces in Afghanistan is the fact that so many members of al-Qaeda, including Osama himself, have gone into hiding. We know that many terrorists are harbored in neighboring Pakistan. We blame this on Pakistani military and government duplicity, and to some degree this is certainly true.
What we fail to realize, however, is that crossing the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan has been a shady yet common excursion for decades, and in large part it is due to nineteenth-century British policy. The border between Pakistan and Afghanistan is called the Durand Line, and it was drawn in 1893 before Pakistan was even a country (at the time, the line separated Afghanistan and what was then India). The British drew the line, and it completely divided the largest demographic ethnicity in Afghanistan, the Pashtuns. Speculation states that the British divided the Pashtuns intentionally to thwart any potential uprising from this large ethnic nation.
Afghanistan notes that when British India achieved independence and was broken up into two countries (India and Pakistan), the British offered the Pashtuns on the Indian side of the Durand Line “the sole choice of joining one of the successor powers, India or Pakistan, and rejected that there also should be the choice of…union with Afghanistan…The Afghans protested vigorously and, when their protests went unheeded, achieved the distinction of being the only country to vote against Pakistan’s admission to the United Nations (p. 147).” There actually was (and presumably still is, although it is clear today which state is more powerful) great animosity between Afghanistan and Pakistan, contrary to our perception that they work together so collusively.
What does all of this mean to us, as Americans, today? Well, for a fiercely independent people like the Afghans, the mere presence of a line drawn on a map wasn’t going to deter them from visiting their fellow Pashtuns in Pakistan or vice versa. They crossed over regardless of the British line of demarcation, and it seems that neither government really enforced its boundaries. Over the years, the local people grew intimately familiar with the mountain passes and tunnels across the so-called border. Afghanistan’s endless state of war and oppression in recent decades hasn’t helped, either; even as Pakistan sought to guard the border more readily, thousands upon thousands of Afghan refugees desperately sought refuge with Pashtun friends and family on the other side, and risked their lives to learn more intimately the most remote and secret paths across.
It has been really frustrating to many Americans that we cannot seem to catch Osama bin Laden and more of the Taliban, who are largely Pashtun; but when you look at it in a historical context, it’s easy to understand why. In large part, the Western world (our dear Brits) had a lot to do with creating this disastrous web of communication and cartography; the Soviets exacerbated it; and now we must work to untangle what we can.
Friday, June 8, 2007
What We're Missing While Afghanistan Is At War With Itself
It's pretty obvious that none of us will be visiting Afghanistan any time soon, and that's a real shame. While I am admittedly a pretty uptight and fastidious person, by the time I finished my readings, I wanted to sit down on someone's dirt floor in Kabul, shoulder to shoulder with multitudes of siblings and cousins, and dig my hands into a shared platter of food. The culture sounds amazing and the hospitality is world-renowned. Once Afghanistan loses its claims to being, by various accounts, "more wretched than any other country on earth," the "Poorest People in the World," the world's most densely land-mined country, and the No. 1 target of the War on Terror, it will be an incredible place to visit.
While I don't pretend to be at all well-acquainted with Afghanistan, there are a couple of places that especially caught my eye, showcasing its rich history and culture. You or I would be lucky to have the opportunity to see these at some point in our lifetimes. And, if anyone knows of less-publicized-but-equally-enthralling places to look forward to visiting in the year 2035 or so, please let me know!
The first is the Bagh-e-Babur gardens in Kabul. Some five hundred years ago, a Mughal emperor fell in love with Kabul, and when he left the city to conquer other lands he spent a great fortune to recreate Kabul’s beautiful gardens everywhere he went. Like pretty much everything else, Kabul’s gardens were destroyed during Afghanistan’s civil war, although it actually housed refugees for a time. Think about that: imagine Washington, D.C. being invaded a
nd some of its citizens gathering to take shelter amongst the cherry blossom trees at the Jefferson Memorial or on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. That’s the best way I can relate, although I can’t say if that’s an accurate comparison.
Several historic preservation organizations have helped to rebuild the gardens. When the families and visitors come back, I picture it feeling sort of like San Diego’s Balboa Park, Kabul-style and with the sense that you are one small, peaceful person in a place that has five hundred years of history and five hundred thousand stories to tell. How true “if these walls could talk” must ring here.
The second is in a place known alternately as the "City of Screams" or the "City of Sighs." Either way, I realize that it does not sound like a particularly welcoming locale; however, the Afghans do not hide their history, and so Shahr-i-Gholghola it is. Nearly the entire population of this city, 150,000 strong, was massacred in the 13th century by Mongol invaders.
Today, however, there seems to be a little bit of hope emanating from this location in the Bamiyan Valley, where Buddhist monks founded a monastery centuries ago. You may have heard about the Bamiyan Valley in March 2001, when its two massive Buddhas carved from pink sandstone cliffs in at least the fifth century were largely destroyed by the Taliban because they were “un-Islamic.” The Bamiyan is a World Heritage Site, and its beauty and peacefulness are apparently astounding. Local Afghans hope to revive tourism in the area. Hopefully for us, they are successful!
While I don't pretend to be at all well-acquainted with Afghanistan, there are a couple of places that especially caught my eye, showcasing its rich history and culture. You or I would be lucky to have the opportunity to see these at some point in our lifetimes. And, if anyone knows of less-publicized-but-equally-enthralling places to look forward to visiting in the year 2035 or so, please let me know!
The first is the Bagh-e-Babur gardens in Kabul. Some five hundred years ago, a Mughal emperor fell in love with Kabul, and when he left the city to conquer other lands he spent a great fortune to recreate Kabul’s beautiful gardens everywhere he went. Like pretty much everything else, Kabul’s gardens were destroyed during Afghanistan’s civil war, although it actually housed refugees for a time. Think about that: imagine Washington, D.C. being invaded a
nd some of its citizens gathering to take shelter amongst the cherry blossom trees at the Jefferson Memorial or on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. That’s the best way I can relate, although I can’t say if that’s an accurate comparison.Several historic preservation organizations have helped to rebuild the gardens. When the families and visitors come back, I picture it feeling sort of like San Diego’s Balboa Park, Kabul-style and with the sense that you are one small, peaceful person in a place that has five hundred years of history and five hundred thousand stories to tell. How true “if these walls could talk” must ring here.
The second is in a place known alternately as the "City of Screams" or the "City of Sighs." Either way, I realize that it does not sound like a particularly welcoming locale; however, the Afghans do not hide their history, and so Shahr-i-Gholghola it is. Nearly the entire population of this city, 150,000 strong, was massacred in the 13th century by Mongol invaders.
Today, however, there seems to be a little bit of hope emanating from this location in the Bamiyan Valley, where Buddhist monks founded a monastery centuries ago. You may have heard about the Bamiyan Valley in March 2001, when its two massive Buddhas carved from pink sandstone cliffs in at least the fifth century were largely destroyed by the Taliban because they were “un-Islamic.” The Bamiyan is a World Heritage Site, and its beauty and peacefulness are apparently astounding. Local Afghans hope to revive tourism in the area. Hopefully for us, they are successful!
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