Bath chamber walls, floors and pools were lined with pastel marble. The marble floors were worn to extremes, with large shallow melts, filled in with beautiful flower planters. The entire bathhouse-temple was covered with a great dome, dotted with thick portholes of colored glass, admitting great shafts of tinted sunlight. Rooms were, in actuality, six-foot partitions.
The multicolored light shafts filtered through the bathhouse steam to create an extraordinary rainbow effect, suggesting a heavenly light-show. A number of marble basins lined the walls with hot and cold running water. The water in the basins and pools provided magical light reflections.
The staff and bathers were little more than four-feet tall. In the baths, we were all completely naked. These little pear-shaped women looked like their bodies were stunted, with bloated stomachs and floppy pancake breasts.
Bath attendants covered their bottoms with ragged towels and beckoned me to undress and follow them into a prepping partition. They let me luxuriate in a warm, perfumed pool for 15 minutes and then motioned me out. An assistant helped me onto a warm marble slab, rubbing my entire body with her palms and almond-scented gel soap. It was wonderfully relaxing.
While my body felt like silly putty, they rubbed me with pumice, and then rinsed me with large sponges and warm water from copper watering cans. I imagined myself on a bed of marigolds watered by a warm spring rain. I glowed cherry pink from head to toe. Another attendant shampooed my head and all my other hairy body parts.
The stress and strain, as well as the dirt from the trip was washed, steamed and rubbed out of me. Bath attendants were divided into different guilds, based on their skills. For each bath function there was another pair of skilled hands.
After the pumicing, soap massaging and shampooing, other attendants rinsed me again, then another dip for ten minutes in a warmer pool. This was followed by a lie-down on a cool marble slab, and more gel soap massaging. This time it was a cooling mint gel. Had I really been that dirt-encrusted? How much more mellow could I get?
Another little pear-person scrubbed me all over, yet again, but gave me the towel to wash my genitals. This was the weekly bath ritual for Muslim women. The ritual bath is thorough, and, actually, it felt exhaustive to me as a newbie. It is mercifully infrequent, as our skin just does not grow back that fast.
I had brought my razor to shave my legs, and an attendant motioned me to shave off all my pubic hair as Muslim women do. Our bathhouse communications were mostly hand signals and a few phrases my Turkish relatives taught me. My complexion looked great, and I felt like I was in a new body for almost a week after this first Turkish bath. The entire bath experience cost $3.
As did the Turkish women, I covered my head with a silk scarf, at least until I reached the security of the bus. While Turkey is a secular nation, in the outlying areas body covering varies according to tribal custom. In the metropolitan areas, such as Istanbul and Ankara, the established practice is to look and dress in the European style. Turkey strives for recognition as a European nation.
Weeks before in Iran, we learned about following the local customs and covering up the hard way. One of the Englishmen on the bus waded into a village stream and was stoned for wearing shorts. We bus people learned to keep bodies, arms and legs fully covered when not on the bus. That meant no shorts, halters, tank tops, T-shirts, or anything that did not cover arms and legs.
My bus buddy, Kit, insisted that all caravan women wear head and face scarves in public. She suggested that we walk in groups of two or more with one man in each group. She said that among Islamic people it would be safer if we just conformed to their customs, and that, otherwise, we would be asking for trouble.
KABUL ARRIVAL:
It felt great to finally reach my destination, and I shared a second floor hotel room with Kit. We both felt as if the hundreds of miles of road grime had tattooed our bodies, from head to toe.
Kit suggested an excellent Turkish bath at the corner of Chicken Street. “I guarantee we will feel reborn when they finish with us.” It was a women only bath. The men’s bath was at the other end of the street. I loved the idea of another Turkish bath. It had been weeks since my first bath experience, and I felt the need of another body rebirth.
We had an early supper at a café Kit suggested. That first meal in Afghanistan featured deboned chicken baked in yogurt, cumin and garlic, topped with scallions and spinach between layers of phyla crust. Similar dishes were available with lamb or goat meat. Large bowls of curried rice, humus and locally grown melon were served along with Afghan chi.
Kit said the chicken was disjointed and boiled in saltwater first before deboning. After deboning, the chicken was cubed and mixed with crushed olives, onions, garlic cloves, lemon slices, cumin and curry, to cure overnight. The mix could then be combined with beaten eggs to make pancakes, omelets or quiches. I took notes to try this at home.
After the meal, Kit introduced me to a merchant friend on Chicken Street, and then excused herself to attend to her own commitments. Mike, the merchant, was also an Afghan civil engineer and government official with a vast network of tribal relations.
Mike spoke excellent English and had studied economics at Cambridge and civil engineering in Moscow. He and I became fast friends. Mike had two wives and children, with the first wife living in a distant town. Gen, his second wife, was a government minister in Kabul.vi
Mike introduced me to his cousin Nick, who managed the engineer’s shop when Mike was away. Mike explained that in two days he was going on an extended engineering trip. He needed to plot new roads between major towns and link them to Kabul. I was invited to come with him, and he told me we would be staying with relatives who were also merchants.
I asked Mike to meet me for breakfast in the morning back at the hotel, as he had business to attend that evening. I then remained with his cousin, picking out jewelry and other collectibles. In the back of the barn-sized storage building, Mike’s cousin showed me stacks of large metal coffin-size containers. He explained that it was customary to ship goods all over the world in such trunks, and that if I wished; he could do that for me.
Nick added that wherever I went in Afghanistan, I could address my purchases to the shop and he would store my goods in trunks in preparation for shipping. I agreed and thought this was an excellent arrangement. That day I nearly filled one trunk with all the goods I selected in the shop. These were mostly coin silver jewelry with lapis or turquoise stone settings.
I also picked out hand painted and beautiful embroidered wall hangings, as well as some hand worked brass bowls. Nick said he would wrap the jewelry in paper and nest it in the brass bowls and wall hangings. When I asked about the prices of the goods I’d selected, Nick advised waiting for Mike to give the prices and terms. He added, “In any case, you will be happy with the prices, I promise you.”
The hand-painted wall hangings held a special charm. These were crafted by tribal artisans using brilliant water-based inks. The artisans were not Muslim as the paintings depicted animals, trees and even helicopters. There was a certain artful naivety about the paintings.
Muslim artisans would only craft geometric designs as they do on rugs and kilems. Occasionally, rugs might have goats or sheep woven in a distinctly geometric form. As handcrafted weaving does not lend itself easily to curves, all the patterns are geometrical. It was the perspective, or lack of it, that held something of a spiritual quality, somewhat like ancient church icons. The paintings had a medieval look, an appealing one dimensional quality.
The objects on the paintings looked like they were ironed on. The background was the light tan of the unembellished cloth. For some strange reason, the painted objects had an insect-like quality. Helicopters resembled dragon flies and kangaroos had a grass-hopper quality. Perhaps the objects they painted were relatively new to the tribal artisans. Their mind’seye may have reflected on the artists’ closest experience, perhaps with insects or a traveling carnival. The urban cloth paintings were more sophisticate
d but lacked charm.
I spent the next two days visiting local merchants and was able to locate some beautiful tribal crafts. Talking to Kabul merchants over endless cups of tea, each contact led to another. Each merchant set aside my selections, mostly jewelry of far better quality than anything my American supplier had ever provided in the States.
Before the trip with Mike, I asked if he could help me get a good price on the goods I’d selected with the various merchants. He was willing and haggled artfully with the merchants while I smiled coyly. They all knew him as a Kalq government official and he gave me excellent prices.
All the purchased items were stored in trunks at Mike’s shop, and I paid for all my purchases with American dollars. This would make me a welcome guest wherever I went.
The next day, we started the trip through the countryside in Mike’s all-terrain Lynx vehicle. Mike explained, “This is a resilient vehicle, supplied by the Russian Army for the terrible roads we will travel. The Lynx is built for terrain without roads.
The underside is one-half-inch carbon steel coated with latex and tar. The axles are laminated double sized spring steel, and the tires are wide and steel-belted, filled with soft latex, rather than air. The motor is air cooled rather than water cooled. It’s a reliable vehicle for the terrain through which we will be traveling.
For that first trip, we would spend three months visiting Mike’s various clans. Each clan treated me as an honored guest, insisting that I remain with them for days at a time before accompanying me to the next clan.
Sometimes I helped Mike sight new roads, suggesting scenic road stops with privies. Most Afghan privies were two flat stones over a pit. For privacy, woven reed enclosures might be included.
At each clan stop, I acquired traditional jewelry, kilems, antique bronzes and a great assortment of artifacts. I noted the price and origin of each piece, numbering and dating each in a note book. Each piece was tagged with a corresponding sticker.
The only dilemma I encountered was my role as a guest and trader. My hosts called me sister and daughter, but insisted that I have my meals with the men. I wanted to keep with their tradition, and as a mother and woman, eat with the women and children.
The men told me that business traders and guests traditionally had their meals with the men. Only women kinfolk had meals with women and children. I tried to reason that, since they called me sister and daughter, I should have my meals with the women and children, but they just laughed.
I finally suggested the following: “Since I am a business trader, please permit me to have the business meal with the business men, but as a mother and sister other meals with the women and children.” To this compromise they all agreed, while continuing to laugh uproariously.
The head of the clan told me I had the wisdom of a Sufi, and I told him that some of my kin were Sufi Dervishes, forced out of Turkey by the Ataturk government in 1910. A great “Ahhhh!” arose from all in attendance. They now understood what they had perceived as my sagacity.
Sufi is a Muslim sect that is often rejected by other Muslims since the Sufis reject blind orthodoxy. Sufis are an easy-going sect. They are soft like wool, and, as a matter of fact suuf is the Arabic word for wool. Sufis are poets, philosophers, and mystics and work easily and well with all other people and religions.
Some describe Sufis as the Unitarians of Islam. Famous Sufis include the poet Rumi, as well as the philosophers Averroes, Avicenna and Moses Maimonides. Yes, there continue to be Jewish Sufis.
AUTHOR COMMENTARY:
Thus, was an interesting trio of interests combined and merged. While in Afghanistan, Lela was hunting for tribal art, Kit was ostensibly seeking public health clinics, and Mike, the civil engineer, was working on creating a new system of roads.
In reality, as would come to light at a later time, Kit and Mike had a higher priority than clinics and roads. Both were KGB agents, and their primary job was to hunt for new energy sources. As far as Lela was concerned, tribal art was and would continue to be the objective. The KGB was the Soviet equivalent of the American CIA.
Mike, Kit, and Lela became close friends as well as business and political associates. The three traveled together much of the time. Each kept notes wherever they went. At most towns on their itinerary, the first stop would be with Mike’s relations, many of whom were tribal leaders.
Lela and Mike would continue to travel the same 100-mile radius around Kabul as did Kit. Their paths crossed a number of times. When they met, they often had meals together. Mike would explain that new health clinics worked best on new roads. He, Lela, and Kit were all fellow travelers on the way to a new progressive world, as Kit repeatedly suggested.
[NOTE: The Soviet Union backed the new Kalq government in Kabul, and would continue to do so until 1991. By that time the Soviet bloc of nations transformed into “independent” allies. Under the trappings of a market economy, the old Soviet KGB secret police took control of a new Russian federation.
The cement for this new world order was the huge Russian expansion of oil and gas production. By the 21st Century, the Russian union became the energy supplier to most of Europe.
A new world order was in the making. In the West, the European economy was floundering from the extremes of wealth, debt and poverty. At the same time Europe was becoming increasingly dependent on cheap energy from the Russian Union.
Interest in Afghanistan grew as a result of the expectation of locating an ocean of oil in the Afghan lowlands. As petroleum technology improved, oil supplies in North America and North Europe increased, but were not likely to match the low cost of near-surface Arabian oil.]
An established routine would be created with the visits to Mike’s tribal relations. First, introductions would be made to all family members. Then, the inevitable tea talk would commence and continue for a couple of hours before any business was transacted. Most towns had permanent bazaars and artisans specializing in various market crafts.
The women and children were quite affectionate with Lela and Kit. After a short time with Mike’s relatives, the two women were easily adopted as Auntie Lela and Auntie Kit. Continual hugs and kisses among all the women and children were almost a ritual. Adult men were excluded from this circle of affection, at least in public.
Lela and Kit spent much of the early mornings and evenings with the women and children of the household. Most of Mike’s relations knew some English or were learning. The public schools now taught English and Russian. The children especially were keen to practice their school lessons with Lela and Kit.
The kids sang some riddle songs in Pashtu, gesturing and dancing like in the Bollywood films they viewed on TV. The aunties, recognizing some of the tunes, sang them in English, to the great amusement of the women and children.
The aunties were pulled into an Afghan version of “Ring-Around-the-Rosie”. When the ‘all fall down’ was sung, the entire ring collapsed into giggles and hugging. The aunties next did an English version of “Peas Porridge Hot” with the palm slapping included, and the women and children went wild with their rhythmic palm slapping version.
These lessons were accompanied with much laughter and affection. The women and children loved to do cat’s cradle, a game in which a string looped in a pattern like a cradle on the fingers of one person’s hands is transferred to the hands of another so as to form a different figure, in amazingly complex string patterns.
They tried teaching these string games to Lela and Kit. Kit picked it up easily, but Lela’s hilarious efforts had everyone in tears of laughter. The kids laughed until they cried. They rolled on top of each other hugging the aunties and each other.
The new aunties also played games with the women and children, and a gentle form of football (soccer) was popular. But rope-jumping was even more popular. Women and children jumped in complex patterns while singing riddle-songs.
They showed the aunties how they used thin colored silk and split bamboo to fashion elaborate kites. Making and flying kites is
more a passion than sport throughout Afghanistan. Especially, they loved to make cylinder kites. Lela was fascinated with their homespun kite craft.
After laying out the bamboo frames, knotted together with black nylon thread, they cut the silk to fit the frame. They pressed plastic eye holes to lock on both sides of the silk, like shirt snaps. The point of a scissor provided a neat opening through the eye holes. Lela wrote that no glue or fiber string was ever used.
In kite competitions, fighting kites with razor blades tied to the upper portion of the string battle each other, attempting to cut an opponent’s kite string. The youngest children fly kites competitively, gaining local accolades and many captive kites.
Lela wrote about nimble little fingers rapidly knotting rubber bands through the silk eye holes and around the bamboo frames. The finished kites were attached to spools of black nylon that revolved on beautifully hand-carved kite reels. Many of these kites decorated household walls and ceilings.
Beautiful kites were sold in the bazaars. Some merchants only sold kites made by kite artists with reputations for their kite artistry. These artistic kites were stamped with the artist’s symbolic prayers, intending to send a message on the wind straight to heaven.
Artistic kite calligraphy included variations of Great is the Father, (Allah Akbar). Kit could read some Arabic and told Lela that a few were engraved on the bamboo with Al-Lat Akbar, meaning Great is the Mother. There appeared to be a revival of the Great Mother—probably from India.
Kit explained to Lela that in the original version of the Arabian Nights, some of the tales are set at the time when Islam was replacing Great Mother Lat—blessed be Her name with the Great Father Allah—blessed be His name. She went on to explain that The Afghans consisted of many migrating tribes among the majority of settled people.
The Afghan Queen: A True Story of an American Woman in Afghanistan Page 4
