No, I Won't Marry You

heading back
continuing the discussion entitled no, i won't marry you
no, i don't want you to move to boston
no, we can't be friends
no, we're never going to see each other again
back to kabul by nightfall

Where the Buddhas Once Stood -- Bamiyan

Me and my neuroanatomy book in Bamiyan.

up next morning, still arguing with heidar -- no, i don't want to eat breakfast

i'd like bananas or rice and tea

heidar finds bananas -- extremely rare, imported from pakistan

we argue because he peels them for me, i can peel my own bananas, no i don't want anymore, you peel it you eat it yourself

the old woman and her sheep. she is spinning yarn. i ask to take a photo, she declines. just of your hands? no.

wandering around among the ruins

the armed men asking for money, heidar argues, the men surround us and follow us, we try to get in the car and they follow us to the doors and windows

heidar gets out and goes with them -- the police intervene, heidar wins

stop at the ancient city shari gulghula (city of screams), sacked by genghis khan and used as a base for the soviets -- lots of unexploded ordinance; up up up to the top

then back toward kabul, stopping only for a picnic of mulberries

Swan Boats in the Middle of Nowhere -- Bandyamir

The most beautiful water I've ever seen.


And swan boats, of course.

up the next morning. first go to the un to check email. then head out. bamiyan is beautiful. the entire village is set at the foot of the rock face that once housed hundreds of buddhas.

the drive out to bandyamir, getting sick

the mine fields and arguing with heidar.

the bluest and clearest water i've ever seen. i can't believe it's real. heidar disrobes and jumps in. tries to convince me to go too. only a few people in the water, all men. all the women nearby are fully covered. obviously, i'm not going to swim. besides, i am not feeling well.

invitation to stay with the widower and take care of his family.

sicker by the time we're back; sleep the afternoon, argue with heidar over what to do; afghan remedies; fever. lots of vomiting, stomach pain, diarrhea -- certain its food poisoning; reheated rice from last night -- bacillus cereus? heidar watches over me all night.

Freaking Out On the Night Drive Through the Mountains

the trip was supposed to be 8 hours.

we drive back the way we came, back trough ghazni. have to stop to fix the car again.
heidar and a gentleman he knows seem to think it's best that i wait at the house. it's not clear why, but there is some sort of danger about. i'm told to stay inside and not to be seen.

first discussion with heidar re: not getting married. "you don't even know me" "i know you." "heidar, with as much as you know about me, i could be any other woman"

we finally leave ghazni, turn west to the road to herat to head to bamiyan.

at 11 hours, the little town in the middle of nowhere. the country is becoming more mountainous. we stop for snacks and bathroom. i ask a man how much farther it is to bamiyan. we are told it should be another 4-5 hours -- i'm starting to get angry and nervous. this is taking much longer than it was supposed to. night falls as we begin the ascent over the mountains.

i'm getting really angry at heidar, getting scared -- did not agree to travel at night through the isolated mountains of afghanistan; the white toyota on the side of the road reminding me of the white toyotas the taleban used to drive around in. putting on my shoes, marking my surroundings and planning how i would escape, having my thuraya satellite phone ready to call for help; arguing with heidar -- it doesn't matter that you have a black belt and your knife, if they ambush our car they will just shoot us in the head. heidar says he'll take full responsibility for anything that happens. what a consolation. he urges me to go to sleep. i know i need to stop thinking about it. nothing has happened. there is no real reason to believe anything would happen. i am the only one concerned. i feel like a child who's afraid of the "monster" in the corner in the dark that turns out to be my jacket draped over my chair when i turn on the light.

at 17 hours, past 10pm, we arrive. find a room on the roof, eat the left overs, go to bed angry.

Sima Samar's Hospital, Riding a Motorbike, Volleyball, and Spelunking in Jaghori

We arrive in Jaghori and meet Heidar's family. Parents, brother, sisters & their husbands, children. We are offered a lunch-time snack. They offer to clean my clothes (I am dusty!).

Jaghori is beautiful. A small, lush valley at the edge of the "river." Trees have been replanted.

Heidar wants to get a haircut and we need pick up food for dinner. We get on the motorbike, I behind Heidar, and I am sure I must have just implicitly agreed to be married to him by doing this. "Are you sure it's ok?" "Yes, yes, it's ok" We stop at local women's community center, a small structure that has been rebuilt and is being refurbished. Women can come here and learn to read. The man who runs it gives me an apple.

Back on the bike and farther down the path into town. The one main street. The rubble at the end of the street where the school for boys used to be. Heidar's haircut.

Back on the bike and over to look at the new hospital. Then to the UN for a visit and doing some email.

Head back. Stop for a quick game of volleyball. Heidar invites me to play. I decide to watch instead.

Back home. Cooking the rice in a huge pot in the backyard. Dinner upstairs. After dinner we watch some karate movies. Bedtime. Heidar and I sleep alone in the same room upstairs, his mat on one side, mine on the other. Still, I am surprised. Surely they think we are married.

Up early the next day to drive out to a nearby place where there are caves that go as far as you can see. Heidar's dad gives us knives and guns.

We arrive and get out ready to explore the caves. A couple of local boys show us the way. It's tough to climb up to the entrance. So much effort only to discover that they have been closed up. Villagers have put lots of rocks at the entrances, apparently to prevent their boys from going in and getting lost. We are told that this has happened in the past, that the boys never returned.

Back down. Heidar wants me to go the long way around instead of straight down the way we came up. I tell him, "That little boy just went this way, I can go this way." He says, "He's an Afhgan boy" and I say, "Well, I am American woman, and I'll go this way" Heidar is bemused but goes down first and insists on catching me as I jump. I don't want him to, but there is no preventing it.

We play in the river a bit. Heidar is filming, and playing Afghan music for the soundtrack.

We continue up the road and have lunch at the home of a relative of our driver (I think). Relax a bit, and head back.

Back in Jaghori, we return to the hospital and go in. His cousin works there as a nurse, and she shows me around. the is the men's ward. the women's ward. the outpatient room where they are examined. here are some very sick women. one has a tumor and is clearly wasting. its crowded. i wish i could do something.

The operating rooms. The story about the pregnant woman who hemorrhaged and died fighting for water at the water pump. A man kicked her in the stomach. They didn't have any blood for her. Without regular electricity they don't have a place to keep blood. Another story about a woman whose child was stillborn. How terrible. How she must have felt. Yes, she said, "All of that time waiting for nothing." I am reminded why so many Afghan families treat pregnancy so differently, why they don't acknowledge pregnancy even until much later, even into the 3rd trimester, and why the women don't behave and are not treated any differently -- they are expected to work the same, to delay eating at meals just the same. With such a high maternal and infant mortality rate, it would be difficult to be emotional and attached.

The staff at the hospital are so overworked and underpaid as it is -- there aren't enough people to treat all problems at any time of day. There is a room where the nurses sleep and eat while on their shifts. They take turns spending the night. They are very tired. My host says that she will look for new work after one more year because it is too difficult here.

We go back to Heidar's house. Dinner. To bed early because we are to leave for Bamiyan tomorrow. Heidar wants to stay another day, but I need to be back in Kabul by Friday, so we decide to continue as planned. It should take 8 hours to get to Bamiyan, so we plan to get up and be out by 8:00.

Into Taleban Territory: Through Ghazni and Into Jaghori

Habib, a gentleman I met through his work at Harvard Law School, sent me to Afghanistan with many contacts who are eager to help. I've already mentioned several in my previous stories. It is through these contacts that I met Heidar. He is Habib's friend's brother-in-law, who is visitng from London for the first time in several years and is eager to travel. Remembering that I had mentioned my great desire to see Bamiyan and Bandyamir, I am invited to travel with Heidar for the next week. I meet Heidar on Friday, and am invited "out" with them that night. Wary of what that might entail and also tired, I thank him and decline, but agree to meet him again for dinner with his uncle the following night, Saturday. Dinner is very late, and Heidar calls for me at around 8:30pm. We drive over to the old Soviet complexes near the road that heads out to the UN compounds. I'm sure I've mentioned them. Giant, concrete buildings imposing on the otherwise more rural, older-world landscape of that part of the city.

I am welcomed in and we sit and have some tea. I tell a few stories about how I like Afghanistan and how I don't like the present U.S. Government. We talk about the differences between Afghanistan and my country. The laugh as I grimace at the name "George Bush." After a time, we retire to the dining room, where I take my place as guest on the floor farthest from the door. Around the dining cloth are myself, Heidar's uncle, his cousin, another gentleman (a friend of the uncle, I believe), and Heidar. Ocassionally, a woman appears to present the food or tea, or to clear plates. She doesn't really look at me. I feel uncomfortable knowing that there are several women in the kitchen waiting their turn to eat in discretion and anonymity while I sit among the men, even invited to drink with them, enjoying the benefits of the sort of "neutered" status I enjoy as an American. I am not fully a man, of course, but neither am I an Afghan woman.

Later, after we've finished our meal (I love Afghan food), we decide to leave the next day for Jaghori, then to Bamiyan, then Badyamir. Heidar will call me at work and we will rent a taxi nearby and head out early in the afternoon so as to be in Jaghori in time for dinner. It's Sunday, the first day of the work week, and as I am still waiting on the translations to be completed, I won't be missing anything. I pack up my things, including a large bottle of water and a couple of packets of Oral Rehydration Therapy and I think of my professor Dr. Cash from the School of Public Health who invented these in his early 20s. A short time later, I get the handwritten note from our security guards telling me that Heidar is here for me and I head out.

We can't find a taxi for that day, so we arrange for one for tomorrow.
Road rage in Kabul, "No, Heidar, don't get out and fight"
Spend the night at Dr. Aloudal's.
Up early the next morning and head out at 5:00am.
8 hours. Through Ghazni.

Heidar's story: tortured at the hands of the Taleban. Scars. Now a black belt in Karate, works with the police in UK.

Driving through Pashtu territory. Eliciting waves from people in villages. Talking about differences between the Hazara and the Pashtu. Convincing Heidar to smile.

Lunch in Ghazni. Heidar puts on my headscarf as we enter the village. Stop at the restaurant, eat in the main dining area (the only woman), lots of stares from local warlords.

Continue the drive. Stopping to pee in the wide open landscape, flat, and nothing but a shrub or two for miles and miles -- Heidar and our driver friend walk off a few paces and kneel. Where am I supposed to go? I hold it until we find a sort of bridge-like area. I insist that they keep watch on the road.

Arrive in Jaghori early afternoon.