A short walk in Karte-Se

One of our local butchers

Naturally, Friday is the weekend in the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. So I thought I would take the opportunity of some time off work to write about something that has (almost) nothing to do with work.

The weather this morning was beautiful (clear air, cold and sunny), so I grabbed the chance to get out of the house and enjoy part of my weekend going for a walk and indulging in a bit of photography.

I have just returned from holiday in Europe, where I was reminded once again of how limited and/or distorted the impression folks back home have of what it is like to live in Kabul. Hopefully this post will give them (and anyone else who is interested) a bit more of an idea of what my neighbourhood looks like and what goes on during a typical Kabul weekend. And killing two birds with one stone, with ABIF being a market development project, I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a fact-finding stroll through our local bazaar... 

Early morning wait to be hired

In my opinion, wherever I am, there is nothing quite like walking the streets to build some impression of the people who live where I am passing through, and to get a sense of place and atmosphere... For obvious reasons, this isn't always so easy in a place like Kabul, but neither is it impossible by any means.

Sadly, I know international colleagues who have been coming here for months or years but for whatever reason have never had the chance to wander around and enjoy the sense of experiencing the real city. I have even known instances of people posted here for several months but promising loved ones back home that they won't ever leave their compound. It is such a shame that international perceptions of Afghanistan have created such levels of anxiety. I cannot help but think that this anxiety feeds on itself, and with a few honourable exceptions the hundreds of so-called security advisers that hang around the city do everything they possibly can to perpetuate and even inflate it (along with their salaries).

I have always taken a different approach to looking after myself, but I am certainly not foolhardy (and that is not just a comment to try to stop my mother from worrying about me!). We do keep an eye on what is going on around us, but it has to be said that for the vast majority of time Karte-Se (the district where I live now and have lived for some 3 or 4 years in total) is a pretty normal sort of a place. Certainly a whole lot more normal than some of the more internationally-colonised parts of the city where concrete blocks, barbed wire and armed guards are the order of the day.

Typical shop front

Of course, as an outsider I know that however I live, I will only ever get the vaguest of impressions, nothing much more than a glimpse of what life is about in a city like this. But if I am going to stand any chance of getting close to local people outside of a work setting, whether it is Kabul or anywhere else, I reckon that the market is the best place to go. And I am delighted to report that this morning lived up to all expectations!

Without any doubt markets are my favourite kind of place wherever I travel. They are where families, friends, strangers, buyers and sellers all circulate and communicate in public, often so engaged in their business that they do not even notice that there is some inquisitive foreigner watching them. Markets offer a unique chance to see people interact with one another, as well as plenty of good photo opportunities...

Neighbourhood teapot shop

In our part of Kabul on the southern side of the city, Pul-e Surh (Red Bridge) market is the perfect place to go shopping for your essential meat, fish, fruit, veg and (of course) teapots.

How many specialist teapot retailers are there in the UK? Not so many I suspect and I am sure that any that are left have gone "out of town" these days.

Anyway back in Kabul, our market runs for about a mile or so along the local high street. And as with almost any suburb of any city, Pul-e Surh market is the public centre of the local community with shops, restaurants and market stalls.

But it comes with just a little bit of extra human interest and colour in comparison with many of the other places I have been.

In Kabul you see guys waiting around to get hired as casual labour for the day and you have the chance to witness fresh fish being gutted on the pavement, but there is also a chance to drop in on the egg breaking gambling den!

Fresh fish from Jalalabad

Now I have had the dubious pleasure of seeing dog fighting and cock fighting in Kabul, there was even a fighting sheep that lived just up the street at one stage, but before today (apart from the much tamer Bulgarian Easter ritual) I have never seen egg fighting. This was an egg-streme, full on fight to the finish.

I spotted a small crowd on the other side of the street, so dodging through the traffic (a danger that in my view, and I suspect statistically as well, far eclipses any threat from insurgents) to try to see what was going on.

There were probably 20 or so boys and men standing around in a circle which enclosed the crouching contestants. I peered through and with patience eventually managed to secure a prime position to see the action. A veteran player was being challenged by a younger rival. Painted eggs were selected carefully, with lots of sniffing (or at least, I think that is what was going on), and close inspection.

Up close to the egg breaking action!

Then one egg was held out with fingers wrapped around it and the other brought sharply down on the top end. Sometimes the result would be stalemate, on other occasions one egg would crack. The intensity of competition was palpable, this really should be an Olympic sport! Then after a series of such cracking competitions, much to the delight of the audience a winner emerged and (not terribly surprisingly in a country addicted to gambling) quite a lot of money changed hands!

At first, the resident champion appeared to be slightly nervous of the camera, I don't think he was used to being in the media spotlight. But with encouragement from the crowd, he regained his composure and was once again lost in total concentration on the job in hand.

But generally, how did people react when they see a foreigner wandering around taking the occasional photo?

It has to be admitted that a fair amount of staring goes on, but the prevailing atmosphere is mutual curiosity and friendliness. There is a lot of smiling and encouraging waving when I try to explain that I would like to take a photo. Nobody really seems to mind at all, in fact most people were delighted to have their photos taken. Typically before too long there is a small crowd keen to see the photo displayed on the camera's screen.

The only real sensitivity is about taking pictures which include women. I remember my first market photography trip in Kabul back in 2002 when I tried to take a photo of some women buying jewellery and almost had my camera ripped from my hands by a passer by. You live and learn, and this was a good lesson to get out of the way early on. I am happy to say that I have never experienced anything similar since that one occasion.

New water pipes, great for locals, but not so good for business

Language is a bit of an issue, but a few well timed hello's, thank you's, excuse me's in my feeble Dari seems to go a long way. And quite often you come across somebody who speaks English.

For example, at one point today I stopped and had a chat with a shop owner who was a generally cheerful sort of bloke, but was clearly unhappy about the impact on trade of the municipality digging up the street in front of his shop to lay water pipes.

If I remember rightly the work started 3 or 4 months ago, and he told me with quite some frustration that it has now stopped for the winter and won't restart until the spring. In the meantime, that stretch of the street is  virtually deserted and I can only imagine that his sales have plummeted.

Balloons for sale!

Who knows quite how long it will be until life for this particular shop keeper and his neighbours gets back to normal? And you do feel sorry for them considering how hard it is to make a living at the best of times. But given the appalling state of the city infrastructure, however disruptive, these kind of works are absolutely essential. In fact it is quite heartening to see how the pace of such work has really picked up in the last year or so, Kabul really is gradually becoming a much better place to be.

And by the time I get home again after a couple of hours walking around like this, I feel so much better. I feel as if I have stepped outside of the bubble in which I normally live. I have had a chance to smile and speak with people I would never have met otherwise and to break down some of the sense of isolation from reality that is a typical feature of the expatriate lifestyle in Kabul.