Friday in Kabul

Feeding the pigeons at the Shah-e doh shamshira mosque

Friday again, and the end of a long week... so I decided to go out for a walk and to take some photographs of a little bit of what is everyday Kabul.

For me this is the best way to introduce some sense of normality into a very bizarre lifestyle. It is so important to get out of the house, get away from the office and touch real life every now and then.

This afternoon, I went to the centre of the city where there is a street that runs along the side of Kabul river. It is always a busy part of the city on working days and at the weekend, several mosques (and the chance to feed the pigeons) draw the crowds.

By the river

Much of Kabul is either ugly concrete modernism from the 70's or 80's, or ugly baroque-istan from the last 10 years or so when a heady cocktail of drug money and international aid has funded the construction of some of the most shockingly awful architecture you can imagine. So it is always a pleasure to see parts of the city that have survived from earlier periods and still manage to give the place some character. This particular street and the row of shops that run its length is one such oasis.

It is bitterly cold in Kabul at the moment, despite the sunshine. There is a biting wind that seems to fall from the snow covered mountains that encircle the city. Kabul river is almost frozen solid and the normally dusty river bed is all snow. The streets away from the very centre of the city are often coated with ice, making driving or walking equally treacherous.

We parked the car by the Shah-e doh shamshira (King of two swords)
mosque, a wonderfully ornate building that dates back to the 1920's. The street in front of the mosque is always full of bird seed sellers and crowds of people gather around and feed the pigeons.

Shoe repairs and sales

I looked around wondering where to start, and it seemed as if every nook and cranny was occupied by one business or another. Everywhere you look, people are trading or just talking as if friends rather than buyers and sellers.

The moment that I opened the door to get out a young man came running up offering to wash the car for me. Despite my protestations that it has only just been washed, I knew from bitter experience that by the time I returned he would be polishing the windscreen with a cloth that is far dirtier than the car ever was and expecting something in return for his labours.

Given that I work in private sector development, it is hard to argue with the entrepreneurial spirit that drives such behaviour, but it would be really good if these guys would rinse their cloths and change the water a little bit more often. (Note to self; maybe scope for innovation in the car washing sector...)

Begging in the street

As I walked along the street my attention was constantly grabbed by something new, there are so many competing sights and sounds in this crowded city. It was difficult to know where to focus, it seems as if there is something to photograph wherever I look. The variety and the colour of Kabul street life never ceases to amaze me, and it is so difficult to capture any real sense of what it is like in photographs, it is noisy, smelly, constantly moving and changing shape...

Amid all of the bustle of the street, there was a lady sitting in front of one of the closed shops and begging. As I watched for a few minutes mostly she simply sat virtually motionless on the pavement ignored by all but the one or two passers by who handed some money to her.

The tragic reality is that begging is everywhere in Kabul, particularly where crowds gather, and sure enough as I walked on a few paces a small child started to tug at my sleeve wanting baksheesh, "one dollar, mister".

A practical course in negotiation skills

This is the common plea of such children, typically accompanied by a tilted head and a theatrically yearning look in the eyes. Cynically, I wonder if somewhere there is an illustrated guide to trying to look sweet while getting money from soft foreigners... what else can explain the consistency of style?

Leaving this disappointed 8 or 9 year old behind me, I start to systematically photograph the shop fronts, with the intention of putting together a series of photos to give an impression of the whole street. However, every now and again, something in particular captures my attention. I notice another child, seemingly the same age as the beggar negotiating the price for his shoe polishing service and then a small group of people caught up in their moment and completely unaware of me watching them.

Selling dried fruits

A couple of photos later, and I am conscious of a small group of teenage boys lining up in front of me and wanting to have their photos taken, and it seems rude not to... Another boy who is walking down by the river shouts up to me to have his picture taken. But these posed photos are not what I am after. 

I have driven down this street so many times and what has always struck me most as I look at the various shopfronts is the juxtaposition of the traditional and the new.

One shop sells karakul, another advertises itself as a military tailor and next door another shop offers computerised eyesight tests. The contrast extends to the marketing; the optician displays gaudy photographs of sophisticated equipment, while the karakul seller has a few pelts nailed to his wooden shutters.

Old and new

Whatever the future holds for Kabul, for sure this transitional period will not last long. In the ten years since I first came here, there have already been so many changes, inevitably this process will continue and something will have to give.

Suddenly crowds of people started to spill out of the mosque on to the pavements and into the street. The traffic grinds to a halt.

As with the shops, the people show the competing influences in contemporary Afghan lifestyles; many of the pedestrians walking along the pavement wear traditional Afghan dress while others, typically young men, have adopted western fashions. Add the occasional military uniform into this already eclectic mix and you end up with a sartorial reflection of Afghanistan today. As I looked down the street, my attention was caught by a particularly colourfully dressed couple weaving through the crowds.

Leaving the mosque

I completed my series of photos for today, knowing that I will have to come back several times to stand a chance of being able to portray the diversity of life on this one street.

I started to walk back to the car. As I get closer the car washer comes running towards me, waving his rag.

He asked (somewhat unconvincingly) for twenty dollars... I repeat his "bis dollar" with an incredulous laugh, hoping that he realises that he might have to adjust his negotiating position. He looks a bit downcast but I could see that he knew that the game was up.

I pull a hundred afghanis (approximately $2) from my wallet and hand it over to him, resigned to the fact that the car will need to be washed again in the morning. He pockets the money and wanders away in search of his next victim.

As we drove home, the setting sun streamed through the muddy streaks across the windscreen, making it virtually impossible to see where we are going. And of course, the water in the windscreen wash bottle was frozen...

The last few street traders hoping for some late evening custom are huddled around bonfires by the side of the road in an effort to stay warm.