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| Sunday, 15 May 2005 |
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Dressing for success in Afghanistan by Ben Arnoldy Just deciding what to wear in the morning can be a political statement in Afghanistan. For a recent trip to Khost, a city five hours southeast of Kabul and deep in the conservative Pashtun belt, a fellow reporter and I opted for traditional Afghan clothes: a beige salwar kameez (long tunic with baggy pants), a vest, and a choice of head covering. Before leaving, I purchased a pukhol, a round beret of sorts that once symbolised opposition to the Taliban. These days it's a more universal hat. My colleague wore a topi, a mini white cap donned by pious men. A turban would have given us instant backcountry credibility, but honestly, who needs the trouble of putting that on? Far more important for our safety was the four-inch beard worn by our driver Zalmay, whose profile bears an uncanny resemblance to Osama bin Laden. Our interpreter referred to this magnificent garb as our "passport" to travel outside Kabul. After conducting our interviews, the governor of Khost graciously offered to let us stay in a former house of the King, now being looked after by a man named Engineer Amir Shah Karger. I noticed that Karger wore a blue salwar kameez and had the short, well-tended beard of an intellectual. On a patio overlooking the former King's garden - overgrown now by long years of wartime neglect - Karger told us how he has 'worn' a number of different ideologies in his lifetime. He has been a communist, an anti-communist, an Islamic writer, and a prisoner of the Taliban. The sun set and the power went out, so we ate dinner by candlelight. In the flickering shadows, we made an unlikely group: two American journalists; our interpreter, who was trained in the communist army; our driver, who was a former Mujahideen; and Karger, who declared that for him "ideology is dead" after 25 years of fighting over it. "I am a realist," Karger said. Like many Afghans, he views the central government as corrupt and NGOs as self-serving. He plans to run for the new parliament, he told us, to fight these problems. "I see the Parliament as a bridge," he said. "The Parliament can tell the government when they are doing wrong. And it can tell the people that development takes time and to be patient." He's not alone. The three-week registration period for candidates planning to run in September's local and parliamentary elections opened last weekend. Some 10,000 Afghans from more than 60 political parties are expected to throw their turbans, pukhols, and topis in the ring. There are 80 hopefuls already in Khost alone, where there are only three seats for men and two for women. A week after we saw him in Khost, Karger visited us in Kabul. He was in town making the rounds among politically-connected friends. We complimented him on his custom-fitted brown suit. He said that he had arrived in Kabul wearing traditional clothes. After dropping off his brown suit at a tailor, he had called on an old acquaintance, an official by the name of Nooristani. But the official's secretary brushed him off, giving Karger an appointment three days later. He left, picked up his suit, and went back to Nooristani's office. Wearing the suit and tie, he was immediately ushered in. Karger laughed, telling us that rather than shaking the official's hand he said: "Mr. Nooristani, please shake my tie." When we asked him about his prospects for election, he admitted that he was finding it hard to get rid of his old communist label, though that was years in his past. It seems that ideology may be dead in Afghanistan, but even a new suit can't completely erase old antagonisms and cultural divides. Because Western clothes have more cachet these days among the political elite in Kabul, I, too, tend to wear my regular clothes in the city. The other day, however, I brought out the salwar kameez again for an interview with a conservative mullah who had condemned the showing of dance videos and Western films on television. Youth, he lamented from behind an enormous white beard, were now imitating American and Indian mannerisms, hair styles, and clothing. As I shook his hand goodbye, he held my hand and said, "You come to Afghanistan and you wear Afghan clothes and adopt Afghan culture. This is good. So why do some Afghans try to adopt Western culture in Afghanistan?" |
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