I've been asked by many people how it felt wearing the headscarf. I've thought about this often, both in Kuwait (where I don't need to and rarely wear the headscarf), and in Kabul where I had to wear it from the moment my plane set down until I left. Within the walls of western/foreigner compounds I could take it off, but for all the rest of my trip it was simply a part of my wardrobe. I chose to wear the Kuwaiti hijab (headscarf). It's a two-piece black headscarf. The first piece is like a bonnet...you put it over your hair and tie it in the back. This holds the hair back. The second piece is the black scarf, which is wrapped around the head and then around the neck. Most foreigners in Kabul just wear a colored neck scarf over their hair, so my wardrobe choice stood out a bit. It actually caused quite a bit of confusion amongst Afghans, since I look Arab or even Afghan once I've covered my hair. When I was leaving the airport at the end of my stay, the passport control agent refused to believe I was American. Even though he was holding my blue American passport, he first spoke Dhari to me (assuming I was Afghan), and then insisted that I was Arab. I told him I was Irish. Then he asked if I was Muslim. I told him I was Christian. He then insisted again that I was an Arab Muslim, and I told him I was an Irish Christian. We had a good laugh about it, and agreed to disagree. He did tell me that I should be an Arab Muslim again as I was leaving...I think he was actually flirting, but I just smiled and went on to my flight. My van also got stopped at a security check-point when we were traveling back from the mountains to Kabul. The best I can understand is that we looked suspicious because it looked like a van full of foreigners with a random Afghan or Arab woman (me!) riding along. We were pulled off to the side of the road, and I was asked for my passport. After clearing up the fact that I was, indeed, an American, we were allowed to continue on our way. I do have to admit that it's a bit nerve-wracking to be pulled aside by security with machine guns at a barbed wire checkpoint in the middle of Afghanistan!
Ok, back to the headscarf. As my plane landed in Kabul and I wrapped myself up in the black material, I felt like a little piece of myself was disappearing...hidden. It's an odd paradox actually...because what I've noticed is that the more I cover my hair, the more comments I get about my eyes standing out. In my mind, the eyes are much more alluring, much more dangerous than hair. If the purpose is to protect men from the dangerous allure of women, then it seems like a self-defeating prospect. In any case, when you first put on the headscarf it feels stifling. The material around my neck made me feel choked, hot, inhibited. But as I walked out of the airplane, surrounded by men (since I was the only female in sight)...I felt relief. Relief to be hidden, to have this thin piece of material that I could pull around my face. It was as if I could disappear, become an observer instead of the observed. I don't think it actually stopped any of the staring, but it was like a wall had been erected, protecting me from all that was around. When I think about the veil, I think of it as a subjugating misogynist tool...a label or tool inflicted on women to designate them as sinful and dangerous. The evil temptress. In my mind, that is what I believe. I don't agree with the forced use of a headscarf. And yet...the feeling of protection and near-anonymity that it offered was strangely comforting. As the days went by and I grew accustomed to wrapping myself up against the eyes of the world, I actually started to like the veil. For one thing, you don't have to worry about your hair! You can have a bad hair day, or even just skip the shower completely (since I showered with almost zero water pressure while standing in a bucket, skipping the shower from time to time was quite appealing!). It also keeps you warm in the frigid temperatures of Kabul.
But most of all, I grew to love the feeling of anonymity and blending...I loved the fact that when our van sat in traffic (the most nerve-wracking points of the trip for me...since we're sitting ducks when the van is hemmed in on all sides by other cars), I could just pull the veil over my face and withdraw from the stares of others. I know this sounds odd. It's completely opposed to my stance as a sort of Christian feminist. I don't actually believe that any woman should have to wear the veil...but I also understand its appeal. When I went to Afghanistan, I just couldn't understand why women still wore the burqa even though the Taliban is gone and they are now allowed to just wear a headscarf. But having walked a short distance in their shoes, I can understand. If you're used to being protected from the eyes of others, uncovering yourself would feel terrifying. If you have spent a lifetime hidden, surrounded by a wall of impenetrable fabric, how do you suddenly walk into the world unprotected? I don't really have any answers. As I re-read this blog, I'm confused by my own words. I haven't fully processed or come to any conclusions...but there is a small part of me that wishes I could wear the headscarf whenever I wanted. Perhaps it's the part of me that is the observer...the part of me that is global nomad, that is the cultural chameleon. If no one can see you, then you've achieved the ability to blend flawlessly. Looks don't matter. No one cares if blonds have more fun. You can hide from prying eyes and unrelenting stares. There's something just appealing about that. One last thought for today...on the day we traveled to the mountains, our van driver decided to make a pit stop. He suddenly veered off the road and bounced over potholes until we stopped in front of a house. The door opened and a woman in a burqa came out, leading two small children. They piled into the front of the van, and off we went. I was so intrigued...who was this woman? What did she look like? The burqa actually has a screen that covers the eyes, so that their entire face is hidden. We rode on for an hour, and then bounced off the road again. We pulled into a side street and stopped at a gate leading into a compound. The woman got out with the two small children. Apparently she was the driver's sister and was going to visit her family. She hadn't spoken a word to us. We sat in the van as she walked through the gate of the compound. Once she had crossed the threshold of the gate, she suddenly turned and lifted her burqa. With a beautiful smile, she waved at us and then turned and walked away. Under the blue fabric was an incredibly beautiful woman. Her smile was contagious. When you drive through Kabul and see all the walking blue figures, it's difficult to imagine the women beneath. I won't soon forget her face...it was a rare peek into the strength and beauty of these people. I don't know what she has survived. I don't know anything about her story. But I can guess that she is a courageous survivor...you have to be to make it in Afghanistan.
More blogs to come soon. I know it's been slow in coming, but it's difficult to find the words to convey the experience! Here are a few more pictures.
2 comments:
Loved this post. I could imagine you there, and I could see everything you described. I especially enjoyed reading about walking in the people's shoes. You truly got an incredible experience, and I loved it that you were able to blend in and be like the people. Can't wait to read more.
Dad read some of this to me the other day but I had not had a chance to get on your blog to read it myself, i love the story of the woman who took a ride with you and then you saw her face. you had an amazing opportunity to be in Afghanistan, I hope you get to go again, it seems to be a lot more of the 'real world' than where you actually live right now! I appreciate your courage and perseverance to go! love, mom
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