A Typical Day in Life of an Afghan.

Ramin wake up! My mother says,
I wake up in my room in Kabul, I see the weak winter light filtering into my dark room from the open curtain window. I hear the voice of the milk vendor shouting ( shir bigire shir) outside the street milk for sale!
The milk vendor is a nomad woman who sells milk on the streets early in the morning by dipping the 1 cup ladle into a steel bucket she fills, a glass jar of milk costs 10af(10cents).
Oh I don’t want to buy milk I don’t want to go to school, I hate school!
I close my eyes again.
Ramin wake up Ramin! It is time for school my mother is now in the room now telling me not to go back to sleep “wake up my son you will be late” my mother says.
The milk vendor has gone up the street she is far away and I barely hear her voice.
I have no choice now I have to get up, and get dressed.
I am still sleepy going to the bathroom which is outside on a 2nd story porch I put on my cold slippers which are out side and the freezing water which I wash my face wakes me up.
My mother prepares parata (round shape thin bread cooked in oil) and a glass of hot green tea.
After breakfast I take my school bag and I start my motorcycle to go to school.
Lots of kids are going school by foot and we don’t have school buses and many walk hours to get to school.
“Open up your bag” the security guard at school demands. He is checking the bags and also pockets for cell phones and others sharp things which are not allowed in school.
Bringing cell phones, sharp things, ipods or mp3 players, camera, fancy t shirts and pants, long hair, and wearing jewelry are prohibited in school, physical punishment ( hitting with a big stick on the palms) will be given to whomever breaks any rule in the school.
After parking my motor cycle, I go to auditorium which every morning all students and teachers must be present for chanting some verses of holy Quran and singing our national anthem, then each class with their first period teachers are going to their classes.
On the way from auditorium to class everyone is trying to get earlier in to the class to grab a seat, because in a class of 55 students there is 25 or 30 chairs and those who are bigger and powerful usually get a chair and others are left standing or sitting on floor and some students are sharing their chairs with their best friends. After taking the attendance the teacher asks for home work and grades the homework and for those who are not doing their homework there is a big stick to punish them.
And after each period the teacher is leaving the class and the other teacher is coming, and we remain in the same class the whole school time .
After the last period the bell rings each class is walking in a straight line following their teacher until the gate of school.
After school I work the rest of day in our shop, a small motorcycle shop, helping my brother selling spare parts, and sometimes cooking lunch for them.
Lots of kids after school are working for survival of their family, most of the kids are not able to attend school regularly and they work.
I am feeling my self lucky that we have a small shop that I am working there, lots of people are working out side in cold freezing weather, sometimes it is good when it is snowing because they can work by sitting under umbrella, otherwise it is really hard, working when cold freezing wind is blowing in your face and hands, that is what they have to do they don’t have any other option.
We closed the shop in the evening at 6 pm because after dark people try to get back home soon, for security reason, most of the shops are closed after dark in Kabul city, you will see people are rushing and waiting for long time on a bus stop to catch a bus, to go home.
you can’t easily find a bus there are lots of Town Ace (small wagons) that work on transporting people from one part of the city to another, technically there is space only for 8 passengers on each Town ace car ( small wagons) but people seat up to 16 people.
Lots of people can’t afford to pay for taxi, unless they have an emergency or they are with their family and kids.
After sunset you can hardly drive in the city because of pollution and dust in the air, you have to have really powerful lights on your car, some people put extra lights on their car.
Fancy powerful lights, different voices of car horns like ambulance siren, police car siren, barking of dog or shouting voice are common and fashionable in these past 5 years.
Distance from our shop to our home is only 7 kilo meter, which takes us sometimes more than 40 minutes to get home because of traffic.
After getting home the first thing I have to do is go to bakery which is right in front of our house to buy fresh bread, and fresh vegetable and yogurt from the small street shop.
For the past 5 years we have electricity only during night from 7 pm until 12pm sometimes until
5 am.
My sister and my sister-in-law cook the dinner my brother and father watch the news on TV, my mother sits in a corner of the room watching them and, counting her tasbeh( like a Rosary) and chanting her prayers from the Holy Quran after finishing my homework and studies, I watch tv or sometimes listen to music.
During the dinner we all eat together by setting all in a circle on the floor, which is our family rule that we should all eat together. I ask “ why is the rice so oily?” sometimes “why is the rice so dry and it doesn’t have oil in it?”. This is the way I tease my sister and all family joins with me to tease her for a while then we all laugh and keep eating.
Our living room is designed with sitting mattresses with the pillows around the room and carpet in the middle we eat, drink, and sleep on the floor, which usually all afghan families do the same.
“Ramin do you want to drink tea now or later” my sister ask me, Afghans drink tea a lot before food and after food, my mother and brother drink at least 10 cup tea each after dinner.
I don’t drink tea a lot I hate drinking tea too much it makes me more lazier than I am.
After eating dinner and drinking tea my father falls asleep early and we all sit in front of TV watching a movie or a TV show.
Everyone is falling asleep slowly and going to sleep one after the other, my mother and I sleep last because we double check the door is closed or any window is not opened for security reasons.
“Ramin go to sleep son tomorrow you have a lot to do you seem sleepy.” My mother says.
“ Mother wake me up please tomorrow early” I said to my mother.
My mother says laughing at me “ you always say the same thing in the same way and I keep shouting at you in the morning and you are not waking up.”
I go to bed and think of tomorrow that I am having the same day.
Oh I don’t want to go to school anymore, I don’t want to work too much, I just hate doing the same thing all everyday.

Homecoming Dance or Afghani Dance?

Homecoming dance is near, everyone in the school hallway and cafeteria is talking about homecoming and homecoming dance party. What is homecoming? What is it going to look like?
Lots of students are wearing different costumes in school. I asked my classmates what is going on? I didn’t know anything about homecoming because we don’t have such a thing in our schools. But I showed my participation on the last day of homecoming week by wearing Red and White clothes.

I really enjoyed that week, when each day people were wearing different costumes. I wish we would have the same at my school.

It is a homecoming dance night, my family gives me a ride to the school, it is 7:30 pm and the weather is chilly, Mr. Murray is in the hall in front of the gym and nobody is inside the gym. The gym is dark and scarily decorated with Halloween decorations and colored lights.

“Hey Samad you have come early, “ Mr. Murray says. I am too early, should I go back home and come back later, or should I just wait?

I say hi to him, and I go inside the gym. I am a little scared because of the darkness and loneliness.
I remembered the Teacher’s day party in my school in Kabul where that we had decorated our classroom with banners and poems for teachers on big posters on the wall and a big welcome note for our teachers. The table was full of different kinds of foods and drinks with Desserts. Every student participated and brought homemade Afghani dishes.

After a few minutes, people started coming one by one to the gym. Some came with friends some were couples, but I was alone because I was new in school and not familiar with other students.
I was waiting for someone to give me company and to talk with. Now lots of people are inside the gym, it is dark and cold inside. Music is on and two boys are dancing like dancers in an ice skating rink in a comic style, which amazed me and made me laugh.

“Abdul this is not the way how we Americans dance.” one of the girls who was watching me laughing at the boys said. I didn’t care whether Americans dance like this or not, I have never seen such a thing in my life, and I am having a great time. “I know but I like the way they are dancing,” I said.

The gym is now full of boys and girls, DJ is playing the music, I was not familiar with the music but I like western music. Everywhere is dark, and music is too loud, colored lights are on, It is hard to know who is dancing with who, and what is going on, all I could see was those who were dancing under the blue and red lights. But it was good because I was dancing also and no matter how bad I was dancing no one could see how I was dancing.

I am standing in a corner of dance floor in the gym and watching my friends dancing, everyone is busy dancing, and taking photos. Some people were dancing very good and some danced different, which was new for me.

In parties in Afghanistan usually, people dance in circles with other people performing different dance steps. As on teacher’s day in my school back in Afghanistan where we celebrated a big dance party in school, each of my classmates was dancing the way danced in their provinces, some from the north, some from the south, some from Hazara tribe, some from Pashtun tribe with different music and songs. We made one of our teachers dance with us, he was one of the strictest teachers in school, but we made him dance and we were clapping and enjoying seeing him dance.

In Afghanistan boys and girls are not dancing together unless they are husband and wife, or close relatives. In wedding parties, men and women are sitting separately in different rooms, when dinner is eaten and guests who are not relatives or close friends leave then men and women are getting together in one room.

In Afghanistan dancing is for special ceremonies to express our cultural history, and expressing our happiness and sharing it with our relatives and close friends but men and women dance separately.
Dating is not acceptable in Afghan culture because most people are against love marriages. Families arrange marriages for their sons or daughters. They only meet each other after their engagement, not before. We don’t have any place where teenagers can go dancing.

Some people are still on the dance floor and dancing. But some are tired of it and sit in corners and watch the others. I am also watching but I am not tired. It is 11:30 pm now and one by one people are leaving the gym and going toward the parking lot to go home. Some people are enjoying dance and don’t want to go. I am leaving the gym, the weather is too cold for me and I don’t have my jacket, my family is on the way to come and get me, I am walking toward the parking lot. It is too crowded with cars of parents who have come to take their sons or daughters back home.

My first homecoming dance -- what an amazing experience.

My American Experience

America is not only a country, America is a powerful idea. That idea comes from the Declaration of Independence which states, “All men are created equal.” I learned the meaning of this in one moment when a friendly and kind, black woman came up to me, shook my hand and said thanks. I was a volunteer for Habitat building houses for homeless people. I realized this experience could only happen in America.

I was one of 18 people from the Habitat group from The First Congregational Church of Williamstown who were volunteering in John’s Island in South Carolina. There were also other groups of volunteers. One group was from Boston Temple Israel who were all Jewish, another group came all the way from Canada to help Habitat build houses for homeless people. We worked all week building the base structure of a house. Some people were working on the walls and roof of the house; some were painting and some were nailing the boards for the walls. There also were some elderly volunteers from John’s Island who worked part time helping us.

Every morning we prayed before starting work. One day while we were praying standing all in a circle, I saw a black woman coming toward us. She was tall, dark skinned, wearing a jacket and a hat. After the prayer, the supervisor said to us that, “she is the owner of the house that we are building. She will also work with you guys to build her home.” We started working on the house and the woman was helping me to connect metal rods with each other before cement was poured. She was enthusiastic to work on the basement of her future house. I asked her, “How do you feel working on your own house?” She responded with a sigh from deep inside her and a smile on her face, “I have five children and it is my fifth year living in a run down rental house in a bad neighborhood. I can’t express my happiness that I am going to have my own home after such a long time.” When she explained her situation I understood her suffering, but I saw hope in her eyes.

This woman who shook my hand had the blood of slaves and slave masters running in her veins. There was a time that black people suffered as slaves. And now they were free. Now people from different ethnic groups, different skin colors, different regions and religions were working together side by side to build homes for homeless people no matter who they are, what their skin color is, or what religion they are. We all belong to the human family. We all should have equal rights because all men are created equal. This is how I understand that America is not only a country, America is a powerful idea. I realized my experience with the woman could only happen in America.