More on "Pelumbing"

Not taking my own advice....I decided that we would once and for all handle our plumbing. We began marathon negotiations with the landlord, requiring tricky strategies and counter strategies as to who would pay what. We engaged "our" plumber who came highly recommended. And we started. Two days later, our carpet which has been liberally soaked in water during the renovation of our plumbing is ruined....Our weekend was spent in companionship with the plumber and his tools, dogs and cats stealing his plumbers "hair" that he wraps pipes with-Gulam Ali who is in charge of all jobs to do with fixing things, proudly showed us how the upstairs bathroom worked spraying the sprayer and turning all of the knobs. It was an electricity night and I went to bed with the notion that I would be able to hop in the shower and wash for the first time since I can remember-instead of heating my water by wood, pouring it into the bathtub-adding cold and sitting in two inches of tepid water-a 1/2 hour operation.

The next morning-the lever broke on the shower handle-no cold water and the toilet seat was hanging by a thread. That day Mahbouba cautiously asked if any bathroom was operational-tentatively ventured in and came out laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks-as 4 days into it the bathroom light gave her a shock, the toilet seat came apart and when she went to wash her hands the water just funneled onto the floor. This display apparently hurt their feelings so they redoubled their efforts to please and Norm says the bathroom looks like the inside of a submarine.

The staff are very sensitive to our mood and by noon, when I couldn't wash my hands or find a bathroom to use- and lunch was late for some unknown reason-I was having a "get me on any plane-even to Moscow but just get me out of here!" day...The staff started to feel insecure and want to make sure we are happy. And they began rearranging our stuff with new heights of creativity, effort and resourcefulness. Both Gulam Ali and our housekeeper, Aisha competed for the honor of pleasing my eye refreshing our house with little arrangements-Making me crazy...The plumbers of Afghanistan are a secret weapon...I am convinced.

The Kabul school of plumbing...

This sign explains it all. It says "Pelumbing...and Belding...no offer not accepted". I have a dear friend, Dede Sherrard who started his life as a plumber now working as an inventer and engineer. He also is dyslexic, which no one in the family has too much sensitivity or compassion for as he is so accomplished. I have to notify him that I have found "his people" the creative Afghan plumbers. There is a street of "plumbers" with signs that say "Plummery", and "Plum.bing" and offer mysterious services such as "sanitary washes" , "pips are blown", "no piepe untouched". And all, of course, would never disappoint a customer and say they don't know how to handle most plumbing jobs.

Kabul's water systems were functional once, as we lived here when this was so but 23 years have taken its toll and any house that has not been almost re-built around a new plumbing system doesn't work. And the biggest mystery is where does all the sewage go. We now know that it goes under our gift shop, as our plumbing came to an abrupt end after it left our house- fact that we discovered after living here for a week and the sewage backed up into the kitchen and erupted all over the bathroom. But no one has been able to tell us what we do when the big hole under the gift shop gets full. A very Afghan custom is to wait until the problem happens to figure out the solution.

Mahbouba called me in tears of laughter over the fact that in her townhouse-her husband wanted a brand newly remodeled house to avoid problems-the sewage had erupted all over the floor this week-and they were borrowing bathroom time at neighbors. By Wednesday this got very old but they could not find a plumber who could actually fix it. The plumbers just come and go-do something which doesn't work- and then shake their heads.

So, Dede, as much as I miss everybody, we should probably get you over here ASAP as the stress of not being able to flush our toilets, take showers, baths..is really taking a toll on the expat community....I looked at my husband this week with his hair standing on end, and grime under his nails and asked him if he would like a bath, as we have been without a shower for 3 weeks now..I bypass all of the plumbing and use a good old-fashioned fire heated water heater and "draw" my bath...When he snapped defensively "I have bathed this week already" I knew we have somehow turned a corner here and if I don't get the plumbing fixed soon...I am going to lose him to the "kinar robs" and "tashnaub" method of bathing- a pint of water splashed over critical parts...Help, Dede.

Missing my mother in Seattle...

My mom was the final impetus behind our family move to Afghanistan 36+ years ago and she insisted that her daughters write letters to our family at home to help connect us while we were so far away. She loves to write and communicates so beautifully through her writing that as a result all three of us have the same passion. I have to share some excerpts of her letters to me. There are not many mothers who can comfort and advise their daughter in Afghanistan. I told the "jinn" cousins about her letters and they have asked for her address to get advice on their domestic troubles with their cook. I think that Mom has a unique niche in the world of advice columns.

Mother writes:
....."when I got up this morning there was the full moon going down in west over the Olympics. Frosty roofs. No fog but evidence of icy streets. Have thought of you all week as the moon progressed, thinking that you were also seeing it earlier with the snowy mountains around Kabul."

"The Afghan winter is severe under the best of situations. Can you roast goat...will your electricity stay on long enough? needs to be slow. That was one dinner we all liked with lots of garlic. Also the yogurt that Nana made using dry powdered milk. It sounds like you are pretty confined to compound with the state of the roads and isolated. The kids are no doubt expressing the anger & frustration of the adults....with not enough food, warm shelter or clothing. Easy to understand but very hard to live with and keep your perspective. The more farsi you learn, the better in these circumstances. I wonder if "dwana bachas" (crazy boys) might not be a good reply to the taunts about your dog.?? Big article in Times last night about the opening of the fancy 5 star hotel in Kabul....how can that fuel anything but resentment with the population?"

(On my note to my son Colin)
....."Marnie....well that message got Ruth & I laughing pretty hard. I got corrected by Fran earlier. His address has an underline: colin_hume@yahoo.com....don't know if that would make a difference. But having an London Colin Hume answering to "write me you big poop of a son" in such a nice way is quite a feat. As you know from where you are....life is very fragile and we need to love each other and not call our son a poop! xox mom"

The "jinn" cousins...

In Jalalabad we were treated to three days with what I now call the "Jinn" cousins. A "jinn" being something along the lines of a spirit but Afghan style which means it can be good or bad....but it is always disruptive. Afghans being renowned for drama, a wicked sense of humor as well as a limitless capacity to talk about anything made our vacation a three day marathon of teasing, stories by the fire, political arguments, commentary on fashion, and being filled in on history from their very personal experience. Mahbouba and Selma ( the scary looking ones) are first cousins and descendants of Abdur Rahman, Habibullah, and Amanuallah...Trina (the beautiful) is a convoluted cousin but I have to enquire further as relatives are a very complicated thing here. These three talked from morning to night and nothing escaped sharp eyes and an opportunity to tweak noses. Then we topped it all off with a solemn trip to their progenitors graves sites in Jalalbad...where I thanked Allah for their irreverent and loving presences in my life.

A brief respite in Jalalabad

Mahbouba could hear me moping in Kabul all the way from Jalalabad and she called me to invite me down or rather she said "Pack up and get your butt down here." It took me all of 20 minutes to arrange it and we were off. Jalalabad is east down through the mountains and the weather was gorgeous. It was a lift to get out of cold and snowy Kabul.



We were invited to stay at Mahbouba's husband, Hassan Gailani's family house in Jalalabad and to spend a couple of days there was an unusually close glimpse of Afghanistan's history. Hassan's uncle is the head of a sufi religious sect that originated in Iraq and migrated here. The family were also major resistance fighters during the war with Russia. The house was on a beautiful plantation, rebuilt and staffed by "followers". Jalalabad has flowers, orange trees is full fruit, and was mild and fragrant. In the days before the war most of the influential Afghan families had homes in Jalalabad for winter. I found the following excerpt that described the Gailani's.

"Hazrat Naqib Sahib, father of Sayyid Ahmad Gailani Effendi, the present pir of the Qadiriya, established the family seat in Afghanistan on the outskirts of Jalalabad during the 1920s. Pir Ahmad Gailani is the leader of the mujahidin Mahaz-i Melli Islami party. The leadership of both the Naqshbandiya and Qadiriya orders derive from heredity rather than religious scholarship.

Afghanistan is unique in that there is little hostility between the ulama and the Sufi orders. Numbers of Sufi leaders are considered as ulama, and many ulama closely associate with Sufi brotherhoods. The general populace accords Sufis respect for their learning and for possessing karamat, the psychic spiritual power conferred upon them by God that enables pirs to perform acts of generosity and bestow blessings (barakat). Sufism therefore is an effective popular force.
In addition, since Sufi leaders distance themselves from the mundane, they are at times turned to as more disinterested mediators in tribal disputes in preference to mullahs who are reputed to escalate minor secular issues into volatile confrontations couched in Islamic rhetoric."

We visited a remarkable "Kallo" a fortress like adobe fort that Hassan's family wintered in that was unoccupied during the war but is remarkably preserved for this kind of construct. This is a very, very old type of building that we see all over the country but this one was very handsome in its day.































































































































































































































A sweet moment when the "Malem, Saihib" who took care of us and arranged armed escort, brought a young boy to Hassan for his prayers and blessings. An ancient moment.

Hassan is the heir to the current "Pir" and he has two brothers and a cousin elected to parliament. I look forward to watching this family as they participate in the rebuilding of Afghanistan.

Eid and our next level of culture shock...

I remember a story my mother told me about when we were here when I was a child. My mother was talking to our Afghan landlord on the balcony of our house and she was exclaiming over the beauty of Kabul in the wintertime. The surrounding mountains are spectacular when covered with snow. And the landlord said "Ah, yes they are beautiful but then you can leave them...for me they are a prison."

Norm and I had made plans to go to Pakistan for a couple of days because we have been working non-stop for months now. I had really looked forward to this as I missed a trip north because of work. But the Pakistani consultate must have learned from the same "customer service" book as the Afghans-first priority is to tease and enrage your customer. He spent a good long morning at the consulate, of course, he did not have all the required references and documents and he was sent away empty handed and told to come back on Sunday. He did and was promptly notified that the consulate had left for Pakistan and no more visa's would be issued until after Eid. I was surprised at my reaction which was a sense of claustrophobia...and a desire to get out of the country anyway possible...even if just for a few days. I am so used to being able to travel our large continent with no restrictions it is strange to be here with no way out!

This Islamic holiday, Eid, when the pilgrims make their Haj to Mecca, is a holiday where sacrificial animals are slaughtered so not my favorite holiday here as I see these beautiful animals standing waiting their turn...however I have more respect for a culture in which butchering is all part of the day here, than us at home who do not witness the death of our meal and are disconnected from the unpleasantness and pain of it.

Norm and I have no staff and no drivers in an attempt to give everyone holiday, so we walked downtown to the huge bazaar, Mandai-ee. It is for the most part just frequented by Afghans because so much of the goods are new, cheap imports from Pakistan, Iran and China. But rich in tradition. They don't see foreigners there much so lots of staring but quite a few strangers stopped to talk to us or to help us. We are both taking Dari lessons again, and I can for the most part understand what people are saying and respond. Norm was taking my picture in the melee that the bazaar was and a man right next to me commented saying "look! the foreigners are taking a picture! to which I notified him "These foreigners understand you! and you can address us directly!" They don't mean to be rude but just are not used to us at all, which is strange for me -as a child I was in that bazaar often -I even remember where certain places are and I never experienced being strange.

We had a great day. We have been steadily reducing our reliance on our staff to attain a more normal life than is expected for foreigners here. We have two days now without staff altogether and are minimizing our needs. We realized yesterday that next to go is our driver. We can actually walk downtown in the time it takes to drive in this traffic (and we desparately need exercise) as well as we cannot explore with driver in tow the way we both love to. So, next purchase, an old Russian Jeep...we won't drive much in Kabul -impossible but we will be so much less dependent- which we really need now.

There seem to be so many layers to culture shock and just when I think I am getting used to it here I will get hit sideways with something so alien to me that I get upset. But we ended our day yesterday in our own neighborhood bazaar-and everyone was buying presents and excited about upcoming holiday. An Iranian woman went out of her way to speak to me out of friendliness. I saw an old Hazara help a young man up from a bicycle fall. Everytime I start to feel critical if I observe closely I will see these small but important gestures of humanity and kindness that is at the heart of the Afghan people.

The demise of the Xmas tree brings snow...

Well, finally, after everyone started worrying...snow arrived in Kabul. No one wants to see a draught again and it was getting late in the season. We stocked up on wood again. Three puppies left, and they like to stack up on top of each other like Yertle the Turtles and peer in the window looking at Ahmad Zia at work who has an intense fear of dogs. The "pee shoe" gang took down the Xmas tree. We are coming up on Eid when muslims go to Mecca for the Haj.

Mahbouba is back and has moved into her own house with her husband. Nothing works all at the same time...and she has spent the summer fall watching me struggle with my household difficulties-vastly amused while living at her sisters well established house...now the tables are turned and I am really unmoved and unsympathetic. Today, she had no water because the pipes are frozen. I think it is funny.

I was unable to get pictures New Years Eve but Norm and I went to Mahbouba's party at her brother-in-laws-Daoud's. I realized shortly into it that I was with the old royal family-grand daughters of Zaher Shah, and everyone a cousin to the next. It was so interesting to hear all of them talk about Afghanistan, past and now. And to realize that each of them are trying to recover and to assist their country in their own way. It was very different than being with expatriates because the expats are here for a very short time and the feeling is of such transiency and no depth to their commitment to this country-with special exceptions of course. Yesterday I was coming back from bazaar and a 30 year old woman came up to me asking for work. She was distraught because she had been working for some "koragee" or foreigners and they left to go back to Germany. She seemed so bewildered and surprised that they could just leave and she could be without work or money to feed her daughter. How we must seem to them, coming here for such a short while and then going.

I love being with the Afghans who have such a long history of this country and who are back to stay (although they might go back and forth to their foster country).

Days and days of proposal writing and writing to finish the survey. I sit in my cozy office by the wood "bukhari" now watching the snow and I have such a beautiful view of the snow covered mountains that ring Kabul. I am from the Northwest where we are lucky to get one day of snow a year. And after the initial wet snow and dealing with "choo chay" who became a mud dog from head to toe wresting with mother dog I decided I was finished with winter but now I am loving the beauty of it and I am glad we can afford wood.