Under the Burqa: Part 1

Interaction with Women of Afghanistan

         As a Western male in Afghanistan, contact with women in limited.   I have to be constantly watching others' reactions to me, to know how to act toward different women I meet, and to try to be as sensitive as possible.   While some women will make direct eye contact and even shake hands upon meeting, I have to let them take the lead.

         Though the wearing of burqas is no longer enforced as it was under the Taliban, and many women don't wear them, it is still the norm to see what looks like multiple ghosts floating down the street.   Women often discard them when they arrive at their destination, but when I show up, I often see faces immediately and silently covered.   Different women react to my presence in different ways.   I try to enter a room without looking directly at anyone, giving them a chance to see me first, and give an indication of what sort of interaction they are comfortable with.

         Here's an example:   I arrive at the lobby of a health clinic, where several women, many with children, are waiting.   Another woman is giving a presentation on disability awareness and landmine safety, which is what I'm there to take photos of.   I am accompanied by two females, so I'm a bit less threatening than I would be otherwise.   There is a rumble of movement, and many of the women (who are poor and likely to be from more traditional backgrounds) become instantly anonymous, disappearing under the familiar light blue cloth of the burqa.   I am introduced to the woman giving the presentation.   She smiles and says hello while looking me straight in the eye, but does not extend her hand.   I just place mine over my heart, a common gesture of friendliness.

         I sit for a little while and try to let the women get used to me.   Some nod, some look away.   An Afghani woman explains in Dari that I am going to take photographs, and to let me know if they don't want to be included.   Some of the women leave.   I take out my camera and fumble with it a minute or two, pretending to get it ready and allowing all to see that I am about to use it.   At first, I snap photos of the presenter, then the children, and finally some of the women.  

         I note something I've seen before.   There is a woman whose face is covered, but the front of her burqa is open, and she is openly breast feeding a baby in her arms.   This might seem like a contradiction to most American readers, but I don't necessarily think it is.   Cultural differences are always interesting, but ones that point out insecurities in both cultures are something we can learn from.   

         That being said, the prospects for most Afghani women are beyond pitiful.   Ministries of Women's Affairs have sprouted up in the larger cities in recent years, but they face an uphill battle so steep that it's difficult to know where to start.   Women's advocates are still assassinated and girls' schools blown up.

         There are many Afghani women and men that risk their lives trying to bring change, and have been for some time.   One is Sohwaila Aslami. She directs a school for girls in Kabul that teaches females to read and write, but focuses on vocational training.   What's amazing is that she's been doing it for 14 years.   During the reign of the Taliban, the building was surrounded by armed Talibs.   Before they stormed in, Sohwaila passed out copies of the Koran to all the children.   By the time the Taliban men got into the classrooms, the girls were all studying, and Sohwaila was able to convince them that it was a religious school, or madressa.   A madressa with girls wasn't approved of, but she was somehow able to keep it from being shut down.

         Even now, though, she's in danger for trying to change elements of a culture that are fiercely defended by many.   The sad fact is that these days, most women's lives aren't any different from years past.   

         The younger generations, especially in bigger cities, seem to be trying to change things.   A young woman I meet when I am taking pictures at a University radio station in Herat seems to personify a modern, young, progressive Afghani woman.   She's outspoken, vivacious, and focused.   She laughs louder than most women I've met in Herat, and doesn't hesitate to let others know her opinions.  

         Four of us are told that a car has arrived.   She is to interview people for a live radio broadcast, and we walk toward the entrance of the university.   I quickly put my camera into my camera bag, and when I look up, instead of seeing her walking next to me, I see flowing blue cloth.  

         Out in public, she walks with less boldness, is now quiet, and has completely disappeared from view.