K is for.....

.........

KABUL

It is my birthland. Where I exhaled my first breath. Where I learned to walk, talk, and where my character and identity was first formed.

Memories of Kabul for me are beautiful, loving, familial, bountiful, free, and romantic. At that time it was only my 2nd sister and myself, but we had an army of cousins and friends to play with. I tried to make a goat my pet, but it bit my arm. My aunt was my first school teacher. I loved school and the smell of freshly sharpened pencils.

My grandfather was an army general and I got ride on his lap in his Jeep. My uncle was also in the army, and he let me ride on his shoulders while in the open Jeep. I would be so terrified of flying off his shoulders every time we hit a bump, but it didn't stop me from going for the ride every time. Wheee!!!

My grandmother's home was my sanctuary. She dried herbs and tomatoes on her rooftop during the hot, dry summer days. On warm nights, we slept on the roof, where it was cooler and the stars were inches from my nose. Even now, the smell of mint and tomatoes remind me of sleeping up on that rooftop. There were layers of cheescloth surrounding me, carefully lined with herbs and tomatoes, their scents filling the summer air.

I have memories from very early on in life. One of my favorites is of me at about 2 1/2 or 3 years of age, at my grandfather's (my Babajan) house, eating a plate of fried eggs with my Babajan and sharing freshly baked naan bread. We sat facing each other on the floor, cross-legged, and there were 6 fried eggs. He taught me to count them. I ate 3 of them. He said he loved my hearty appetite. That I ate better than his sons did. I remember being so happy and proud that I ate 3 whole fried eggs. That was also my first introduction to green tea. I burned my tongue, but it was so good. There's a saying in Afghanistan...children go from mother's milk, to "chai" (tea) and "dogh" (a tart yogurt drink). I still drink my weight in chai and dogh every single day.

After the Soviet invasion, we escaped to Tehran, Iran, where my third sister was born. I always thought we'd return to Afghanistan, but we never did. Instead, we moved from Tehran to Athens, and then to Chicago, where my youngest sister was born. We were refugees of war and I hated it. I never saw my Babajan again. He died 2 years ago and it is a wound that will never heal.

I am grateful that so many of my relatives were able to escape. And now that I live in San Diego, after having grown up in Chicago, in the United States of America, I no longer regret not having returned to Afghanistan. What I do regret is that the decision to return, or not to return, to Kabul was a decision made for me by the invasion. It was not something I had the freedom to choose for myself, and that will always burn my soul. I hate the Soviet regime. I always will.

Here's a picture of the Bagh-i-Babur in Afghanistan. A beautiful terraced garden created by the founder of the Moghul empire. It reminds me of the Kabul I knew...before war, before bombs, before massacres, before draught, before Al-Qaeda, before Taliban, before burqas, before hunger, and before abject poverty.
Now, it is a place that I see on the news. I say a prayer and thank God for having the medical amenities available to me that I do. I'm not this mother with a child in a poor hospital, and God willing, I never will be.

My fellow Afghan sisters learn while sitting on the floor in a tent.

Photos of Afghan children always remind me of what my life would have been like had my parents not had the wherewithal to escape. These children are blessed to be alive. They seem happy. Who knows if I would have survived the war? If I had, would a journalist have taken photos of me?

I could have stepped on one of the millions of land mines planted by the Soviets, so that an unsuspecting Afghan could step on it and lose a limb, or their life.

Kabul sits on top of a plateau in a very long mountain range. I hear the air is thick with pollution and smog these days. I remember the mountain air being so crisp and clean it felt like ice crystals in my lungs.

I would attend prayers at the mosque with my family, and it was so much fun. We'd return home to a huge feast and enjoy the day with our family. Fridays are our holy days, and there was no work or school on Fridays. Nowadays the city is guarded by military and police. I couldn't imagine passing this soldier on my way to prayers. What a contradiction in purpose.

I prefer to remember this image of attending mosque with my family. My grandmother would bring crumbled stale bread for the birds.

As a woman, nothing makes me seethe more than seeing an Afghan woman in a burqa. It was never a part of our lives before the Taliban. I can feel the claustrophobia of her soul. Ironically, burqas served a utilitarian purpose for traveling in the dusty, sandy desert. Now they serve to subjugate and demean her. It makes me scream in my head.

I have hope for what I know Afghanistan is capable of. I know of what and of whom I was born. The spirit and strength needed to have survived and thrived for so many centuries in such a difficult & harsh natural environment is what will pull Afghans through these overwhelming times. It is with humble gratitude that I read about U.S. soldiers who are over there to help Kabul return to its feet. Busy Bee Suz has her family member, Chris, in Afghanistan, and I know of so many others making that same sacrifice. No one but another Afghan will ever understand how much I appreciate that. No one.

There is so much more I want to say about Kabul, but it's a Monday and it's hectic. One last thing I'd like to explain, since it's been something curious for many of you, is my blog title...

KBL is the call name for Kabul International Airport.

ORD is the call name for Chicago O'Hare Airport.

SAN is the call name for San Diego International Airport.

Hence, KBL 2 ORD 2 SAN 2 LUV. :-)

LUV is not the name any airport, but it is the state of my being since our wedding. I have come home to where I belong for all the rest of my days. With my Beloved.

I'd like to give credit to these pictures from the sites below.

http://www.pbase.com/vthian

http://www.afghanistan-photos.com/

I'm a latecomer to the A-Z Mondays that Busy Bee Suz participates in, but the letter for today just resonated with me because I immediately thought "Kabul!". I think I'm supposed to link to something else when I do the A-Z Mondays, but I don't know....if you have questions or want to join in, go to Busy Bee Suz' blog! Thanks for reading!