Bird Bazaar and Burka

Upon feeling better, I scanned the guide book for an interesting place to visit in Kabul. I quickly decided that the part of the old bazaar in the section of the city south of the river where birds are sold seemed like a very promising option. Andrea and I set out by taxi to that part of the city. On the way, I decided that I would really like to try some fresh mango juice. Andrea desperately tried to convince the man working there that I could drink the juice outside, but he insisted we go in and sit down, making me the only woman in the shop and ensuring that we stuck out. The mango juice, kind of a milkshake with fresh mango, milk and ground almond, was delicious but I drank as quickly as possible so we could leave. Then we entered the bazaar. With my old scarf slipping off of my fine hair and exposing its light color, there was not any question that I was a foreigner. Andrea, who blends perfectly, found this very hard to take. I attracted so many stares, while no one looked twice at him.
We soon passed a shop that seemed to sell nothing but the well-known blue cloth burkas. Andrea asked if he should buy me one, and shy, I first refused. But then, realizing that it would not be expensive, I agreed. A little ways further I purchased a black scarf which seemed as if it my stay more firmly upon my head. We then began to search a maze of sellers looking for the bird bazaar.
We wound through the bazaar, first one way and another, asking where we could find that section. At times we were sure we could hear birds but we didn’t see them. Finally, we came to the small section, one alley really, where the birds were sold. There were doves and pigeons people keep and fly, partridges that may be used for fighting, and several beautiful, bright pheasants. There were also small green parents, canaries, cockatiels, parakeets and finches. Birdcages lined the area. There were also some rabbits, and I held a tiny black and white baby. We also found a pen with two puppies. The owner told us they were a special Russian breed and would go for $300, although I was very skeptical. One of the pups was shy and hung back, but the braver was soon tussling with my hand and gnawing on my fingers. I think Andrea fell in love with that one and for several days has said he wants a puppy.
After dragging ourselves away from the animals, I once again felt overly conscious of people’s stares. I pulled on the black scarf and felt a little better. Since we still seemed to have some spare time, I decided to do a little looking around at dresses. I found a dress store and when I realized how inexpensive the traditional dresses were, I decided to purchase one. Turquoise and covered with gold embroidery, sequins, and some rhinestones, I fell in love with it. Andrea was very patient while I tried to make the decision-the shop was full of beautiful things!-but this was perfect. We then quickly returned to the institute to show off our finds and have dinner.
The next day, we decided to visit Babur’s gardens, a beautifully restored setting that was the final resting place of the Mughal emperor. This time, I decided to wear my new burka. Leaving the institute and first walking through its more upscale surroundings, home to few burka-clad women, I felt very self-conscious. I felt like I was an imposter, and that I should hide my real identity, because people would laugh at me if I was found out. We took a taxi to the same bazaar to start. First, we walked some around there. I became so much more aware of what the other women were wearing for a little while. I looked for other women in burkas and felt better to see how many there were. As we walked away from the bazaar, I began to feel easier. It wasn’t really all that difficult to see out of. The only difficulty was that I couldn’t see what was directly at my feet, but I quickly learned to look ahead and remember any obstacles. We walked a very far distance out of town towards the gardens. To one side a small mountain rose up, covered with traditional mud-brick houses. I saw little girls playing up and done the stairs, the first little girls I have really seen playing (lots of boys playing, though). We took a detour up the mountain, and I lifted the burka to the top of my head to navigate the stairs, exactly as other women ascending and descending did. Other than a short break to eat a roasted corn that is sold after being cooked under hot salt, this was the only time I took up the burka during the long walk of about one and a half miles. The landscape, the mountains, the people, the old cemetery with jagged gravestones we passed at one point-all were very visible to me. I did not feel too bad in the hot sun, and I was able to breathe despite the synthetic material covering my face. I became so comfortable in feeling anonymous, and confident that no one would bother me like this, because wearing this, I felt there wasn’t anything for anyone to not approve of.
We finally made it to the gardens. The entryway was made of a large rebuilt stone caravanserai, that opened onto the lush, terraced gardens that rose before us. The gardens were full of Afghan picnickers, and it soon became apparent that this was some sort of mixture of private and public space. Families set up picnic areas in the trees, some open and some partially screened by women’s veils, which they had removed. Women with burkas had all raised them to the tops of their heads, so I switched to my black scarf. I had now found a hairclip to hold it in place under my chin so my hair stayed completely covered. While this is not quite the Afghan style, and looks like what an Iranian might wear to me, it seems better for me as with my hair showing everyone figures me out right away.
We climbed the terraces, looking at fruit trees like pomegranates and rose bushes as we went. At the top, we looked not only at the gardens and trees but felt we could freely take pictures of the traditional areas of the city clinging to the sides of the mountains, which we were previously uncomfortable doing. We also photographed a small while mosque ever-so-slightly reminiscent of the Taj Mahal and took in a photo exhibit. We found a beautiful pool and around its edge were flower gardens, including beautiful marigolds I so loved as a child. Kids were running wild, and we were very surprised to see that the guards we armed with slingshots to keep them in line.
After a very lovely walk, we decided to return home. I quickly switched back to my burka. Now, I almost felt proud wearing it, as if I was above reproach. Several Afghans had spoken to me and knew I was foreign, and yet still seemed to approve. I think I could become very comfortable wearing this here. We returned the full way to the center by taxi, where we enjoyed a delicious dinner and recounted the day’s adventure. We then went to the nearby grocery to buy some (local) ice-cream, me wearing my black scarf. This time the store clerks seemed confused and spoke to me in Farsi rather than English. Much better, I think.