Arrival and an Afghan Wedding

As the plane descended towards Kabul, I peered out the small window. Majestic, snow-capped mountains gave way to smaller, brown mountains and the outskirts of the city, brown mud houses appearing to blend with the rest of the landscape. It was exactly how I pictured the approach to Kabul airport. We landed and boarded a bus to the terminal, where I pulled by headscarf from the bag and put it on. Since then until now, I haven’t been out of the institute where I am staying without my head covered.
I made it through passport, registration, luggage and customs with no problems. I found that my Farsi was very useful, and many of the officials spoke with me for a few minutes as I went through the process. Then I began the long walk towards the waiting area of the airport. It seemed so long but finally I excited a gate and came to where Andrea was waiting, dressed in Pashtun clothing. I won’t write much about our reunion-just that after two long months I couldn’t take my eyes off of him and missed much of my first taxi ride through Kabul. I guess I would have seen streets fairly busy with people, although as it was Friday not completely packed. Women would have been covered to varying degrees-from long-sleeved tunics and headscarves to burkas. Men might be dressed in a more Western style, or in the long shalwar kameez white suit Andrea wore. The streets would have been dusty and full of cars and bicycles, and armed guards and soldiers might be apparent, depending on what type of place we were driving by. Election campaign posters plaster the walls. But, again, I am only guessing what I would have seen based on my later observations.
We arrived at the institute for researchers where we would be staying, located in a nice neighborhood in Kabul, Wazir Akbar Khan. The institute is beautiful. Or room opens to a balcony that looks out onto the backyard, which is filled with lush green grass (irrigated by water from a swimming pool emptied for this purpose), trees, and beautiful flowers. There is a nice sitting room downstairs and a nice dining room as well. But, I think the best part is Hazrat Gul and Lila, the husband and wife who look after the place with their six children. They are so very nice, and Lila’s cooking is amazing. Did I mention we eat here three times a day?
After a short period of relaxing with Andrea (too short considering we hadn’t seen each other in more than two months), we had to rush to a wedding. A relative of a local professor Andrea befriended was marrying, and we were expected to be there. I felt a little nervous, knowing the men and women wouldn’t be together and being so recently arrived. A taxi took us to the area of the city filled with gaudy hotels used for weddings, and at the entrance to the one we were to enter, a guard pointed to a separate door for me. Again, not usually a problem except that I knew absolutely no one even connected to this, save Andrea. Luckily, he called down the professor, who showed me in to the women’s side. Luckily, there was an Afghan woman, Fatima, amongst the several hundred in attendance who grew up in Iran and spent time in France, and who spoke English. I spoke some to the older women around the table but found the Dari accent difficult this early on. The younger girls at the table were from a village and seemed terrified to talk with me, so being put in touch with someone who knew English was great. The hall was full with women and children, and waiters literally all-out ran between the tables with trays piled high with food held over their heads. I don’t know how they didn’t collide with the many children, especially boys, going completely crazy on the floor all around. I later found most of the guests had been there since 9 am, and since it was nearing 2 in the afternoon, it made sense that the kids were acting out. The food was delicious, though, and there were at least seven different dishes.
Some of the women began to dance. Thee dresses were brightly colored, some beaded or embroidered, and all very beautiful. We watched the dancing until finally, the bride and groom entered. The bride was dressed in a very Western looking white dress. The two of them took the stage and the bride received gifts of gold jewelry. Lines of well-wishers, including myself and Fatima, approached the two with congratulations. Then the couple cut the wedding cake. This was something very strange to see because, after the ceremonial first slice, several women simply grabbed the rest of the cakes, chunked them up with their hands so that they were covered in icing, and heaped plates with these pieces, which were then passed around the room for anyone to reach in and grab as it sailed by. A mix of local and Western ways of doing things, I guess.
After this, we were finally able to leave. Unfortunately, I became ill for several days after this. While I haven’t had a migraine in ten years, I was hit with the worst one of my life and found myself unable to leave bed for several days. I even had a fever of 101. I guess I should be happy to have made it this far without becoming ill-but that fact that it was a migraine that got me really irked me! So, for several days there was nothing all that interesting to report-except perhaps waking up at 4 one morning to the sound of explosions and gunshots, which I later learned were a rocket attack connected with the elections. However, Andrea assured me that had casualties been the goal, the attacks would have been carried out in the daytime, when the streets are full of people, so I am not worried. It generally seems very calm here. I will continue writing what I have been doing since recovering as soon as possible.