Conflict and modernity

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The Turkish Cultural Center is the building in the middle. It is very (post)modern, but it fits into the urban fabric extremely well, in part because it makes several comments about the adjacent fabric.

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I believe this is another new cultural center (Larisa please verify). The entry pavilion obviously refers back to Ottoman ablution-fountains, but the building behind is extremely contemporary. These are two good examples of modern design within historic urban fabric.

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In contrast, some of the 1980s architecture in the middle of the city is rather painfully ugly. On the left, the Holiday Inn where the Western journalists stayed during the siege (1992-1995). On the right, twin office towers. I think their only redeeming quality is that they reflect the beautiful surrounding scenery.

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In central Sarajevo a new commercial tower is under construction, and the cleared land in the foreground of this photograph will be the new U.S. embassy. I hope the Americans don’t then presume that they can close off the central boulevard of this city too.

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As I mentioned on the previous “social housing” page, large-scale advertisements on buildings in central Sarajevo mark the arrival of capitalism here. The image above is ironic, because this battered housing is occupied by embattled squatters. And yet the billboard mounted on this end says “this is what your home should look like.”

1Here, the beverage ad is in good condition, much better than the elder housing on which it is mounted. Note also the scaling-up of the housing in the background.

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It is interesting that, at the same time that Islam is much more evident in the buildings and clothing of people in Sarajevo, the new advertising makes alcohol more visible too.

Sarajevo: streets and social housing

The streets of Sarajevo

The first eight photographs on this page are of streets in eastern, older Sarajevo.

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Larisa was curious about my reaction to Sarajevo. Coming from Kabul, my impression is that it is definitely a European city, reminiscent of Austria and parts of Italy.

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Of course, it does have many mosques, and their minarets are distinctly Ottoman style.

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But increasingly, there are mosques across all of Europe, so even that difference is disappearing. And a street like this looks more European than anything else.

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Old Sarajevo is quite dense, so there are some very tight alleys giving access to houses.

1Note some interesting little features here: the red car on the left has a “disabled” sticker in the window, indicating special parking rights which were recently implemented in Sarajevo. On the right, small bags of trash ready for collection. I forgot to ask, but I think the blue box may be for recycling of bottles.

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Here the municipality is repaving a street in the commercial district with stone. What we (tourists) think of as “historic” stone-paved streets are usually modern acts of urban design to make shopping districts more attractive. Note the new copper drainpipe from the shared eaves of several shops.

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1Another street repaved with beautiful white stone is now a pedestrian-only street.

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These last three photographs are of the main boulevard that extends out into western, New Sarajevo. This boulevard is at least 60 meters wide, with a tram line down the middle. It works, but it is not beautiful. Not that it has wide sidewalks, but no one is walking on them except us, and we are only there for the specific purpose of taking these pictures.

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Yes, it carries a lot of traffic.

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One of the good things about this wide street is that it provides views of the valley beyond.

Social Housing in Sarajevo

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Large amounts of high-rise public housing were built in New Sarajevo along the main boulevard.

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I think American planners would object to all of this housing, because the high-rise public housing we built in the U.S. was such an amazing failure. Here, I have mixed feelings. This housing is better-built than U.S. public housing, and enough of it was built to really make a difference to the housing shortage in Sarajevo. It also wasn’t built in relentless, identical “slabs” as Americans had done. I think most of this was built in the 1980s, so Yugoslavian architects may have learned from the mistakes of both the West and the USSR. But it is very gray, with the color of concrete dominating the design. I think it is often cloudy in Sarajevo, so I would think brighter colors would be better.

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A major challenge is: what happens at the ground level? There seems to be enough space for cars at the moment, because Sarajevans do not seem to own as many cars/capita as Western Europeans do. But the space around the base of these towers must be carefully managed into the future to balance open-space and livability needs against economic growth.

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Already New Sarajevo is changing dramatically. The two apartment towers on the right, in the distance, were privatley built. And the advertising in the foreground indicates the shift to capitalism by its size, location, and content!

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New commercial buildings are also being built in the area between the housing towers and the main boulevard.

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This is older housing, closer to the center of the city. It was badly damaged by artillery-fire during the siege, and it has been repaired with brick. By the way, the towers are not leaning; that is caused by the wide-angle lens on my camera.

Sarajevo

From Istanbul I flew Turkish Air to Sarajevo, the cultural heart of Bosnia.

Larisa Kurtovic

Larisa Kurtovic and I were both graduate student instructors for Michael Watts last fall. She is a PhD student in Anthropology at Berkeley which means that she is the social science equivalent of a rocket scientist. She wanted me to visit Sarajevo this summer, and since I was going to Naples to present at the AESOP conference, I thought it would be wise to take this rare opportunity to have a Bosnian show me the city.

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The destroyed building in the middle right of this photograph is a former barracks. It reminds me of Darul Aman Palace in Kabul, with its twin cupolas. The new house in the foreground is made with concrete posts and slabs, and hollo clay-tile bricks. This seems to be the typical construction today in Sarajevo. When finished it will be stuccoed over, so that it looks like the houses behind it in this photo. In the distance are the twin towers that mark central Kabul, and a new cylindrical office tower rising from behind a low ridge.

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Here is a postcard-view of the center of Old Sarajevo. The National Library is at the bottom right. It was a sad day for many Sarajevans when the library was hit and burned. It is still being restored.

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This different view from almost the same spot shows a ruined house in the foreground. I suspect it was destroyed in the war, but it was one of the only un-rebuilt houses I saw. As in Kabul, the un-rebuilt buildings are those on the most valuable property, where reconstruction involves property-control conflicts.

Three houses of faith in Sarajevo

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Given the cosmopolitan nature of Sarajevo, I wanted to show three houses of faith. Here, one of Larisa’s favorite mosques integrates extremely well with the central pedestrian shopping district.

Nearby, the courtyard of another mosque provides a space of calm in contrast to the crowded streets.

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As you can see from going back to the mosques I photographed in Istanbul, both these mosques are very Ottoman in design.

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This mosque and madrasa are newer or restored; I will need to find out which.

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Even the apparently new construction is distinctly Ottoman in design.

Galata and the Airport

Galata

Galata is an urban district on the north shore of the Golden Horn. It was developed in the high middle ages by the Genoese as a trading colony adjacent to Constantinople.

Galata
This is one of the first buildings I encountered when I crossed the Galata bridge. Pretty obviously Italian in its design; but does it date from the period of Italian residency here?

Galata
The neighborhood, going up the hill, is extremely dense.

view from Galata Tower
From Galata Tower you get a wonderful overview of the neighborhood.

view from Galata Tower
Note the new universal roof decoration: satellite dishes.

view from Galata TowerIstanbul panorama 1: Suleymaniye mosque on the ridge, University Tower to the left of it.

view from Galata TowerPanorama 2: Galata Bridge in the middle, University Tower on the right.

view from Galata TowerPanorama 3: Sultan Ahmet mosque on the right, Hagia Sofiya on the left.

view from Galata Tower

view from Galata TowerGalata, the Bosphorous, and the Bosphorous bridge.

Ataturk Haveliman; Istanbul’s international airport

Marketing responds to many changes, including the rise of public piousness. So at the airport there are two large duty-free areas: one for liquor, tobacco, and perfume, and one for souvenirs. The souvenir shop has multiple bays, and each one seems to be dedicated to a different worldview. In the first bay, boxes of “Harem’s Secret” Turkish delight, with labeling in English and a classically orientalist painting of a white, reclining, nude woman on the cover. In the next bay, ‘tasteful Islamic’ souvenirs including plates with short prayers enameled on them. Then local handicrafts. And in the back, belly-dancing clothes and leather jackets. Walking around the store, I see another bay is done up in ‘tasteful Islamic.’

Duty-free bazaar
The duty-free “Bazaar”.

faux-antique escalator landing
Faux-antique panels at the escalator landing.

faux-antique escalator landing
“Harem’s Secret” Turkish delight candy (olive oil on the right)…

Tasteful Islamic
the ‘Tasteful Islamic’ section, done up in a spare Arab-modern.

handicrafts
Local handicrafts, including lovely lamps…

Tasteful Islamic
and the “Gipsy” section.

liquor and tobacco
The rather larger booze and smokes section…

phone booths
and the international-symbolic phone booths.

This reminds me that, unlike Afghans, Turks generally speak only Turkish. I did meet several Kurdish shopkeepers who, after hearing my list of English, French, and Farsi, offered Kurdish as an option. So it seems that Kurdish is openly tolerated even with strangers on the street in Istanbul. But, of those few who spoke a second language, it was Arabic. I expect they learned Arabic as part of religious education, and I noticed a fair number of Arabic-speaking tourists as well.

Because of my beard and my interest in mosques and prayer beads, a lot of Turks assumed I was Muslim, beginning with the passport-control officer who asked if I was Hajji. They would always ask kindly, discreetly, if I was Muslim. They were disappointed and a little embarrassed when I said no. Apparently it is still a sensitive question in public here.

Three mosques

Sultan Ahmet mosque

A big, urban, Friday mosque.

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

SultanAhmet mosque

Mehmet Pasha mosque

A more intimate, neighborhood-serving mosque

Mehmet Pasha mosque vault

Mehmet Pasha mosque

Mehmet Pasha mosque graveyard

Mehmet Pasha mosque courtyard

Mehmet Pasha mosque courtyard

Mehmet Pasha mosque courtyard

Mehmet Pasha mosque courtyard

Mehmet Pasha mosque courtyard

Mehmet Pasha mosque courtyard

Suleymaniye mosque

Another monumental mosque, further back (west) in the city

Suleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosque

Beyazid moque

Suleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosqueSuleymaniye mosque

Suleymaniye mosque

Topkapi, Hagia Sofiya, Grand Bazaar

Topkapi Palas

After walking around the neighborhood near my hotel I walked down to the waterfront and then back up through the old walls to the backside of the Hagia Sofiya. There is a beautiful Ottoman pavilion there, and then I realized that the wall behind the Hagia Sofiya has a massive gate in it, which was open. This was the gate to the Topkapi Palace.

I am posting these pictures for my Afghan students to think about two things. First, these are fabulous examples of architecture. Secondly, the relationship of buildings, porches, paved courtyards, green lawns, and trees may provide good examples for campus planning. Both Kabul University and Kabul Polytechnic will require more buildings, more development in the future. The buildings right now are far apart, with no relationship to each other. As these campuses get developed with buildings close together, it is worth thinking about how old and new buildings will relate to each other. The Topkapi provides good examples.

Gate Pavilion
Topkapi gate
porch

porch-2
Notice how the arches and braces make the porch columns like trees. The tree just beyond the porch emphasizes this relationship.

East porch
courtyard

kitchen dome

chatri pavilion

kitchen alley

San Francisco tourism

†Hagia Sofiya

vault

vault

vault

vault

gallery

gallery

gallery

gallery

gallery

gallery

Vault with Ali medallion

Vault with Ali medallion

Nurosmaniye Mosque

Nurosmaniye mosque

Nurosmaniye mosque

Nurosmaniye mosque

Nurosmaniye mosque

Nurosmaniye mosque porch

Nurosmaniye mosque porch

mosque and market

the Grand Bazaar, the KapaliÁarsi

mosque and market

Kapalicarsi

Kapalicarsi

Kapalicarsi

Kapalicarsi

Istanbul

July 6 through 9, 2007

My mission in Istanbul was to get images of urban development as examples for Afghan planners and architects. I mentioned on the July 7 post how it was strange to arrive in Istanbul ‘from the east’; another reason for this is that I was looking for images of Istanbul for Afghans, not for Americans. Having an Afghan audience changed my perspective, as tourist, in unexpected ways. Most of my focus was on mosques and neighborhoods which are not ‘perfect’, but very livable.
Mehmet Pasha dome
Dome of the Mehmet Pasha mosque, by Sinan, circa 1571-1580.

Approaching Istanbul from the East

My hotel is in the Sultanahmet neighborhood, just west of the Topkapi and the Blue Mosque («ami Masjid Sultan Ahmet), is lovely. When I arrived last evening, men and women were sitting out on stoops or in small public parks, very reminiscent of Brooklyn. But the houses are very small-footprint wooden houses, as in Newport, Rhode Island. The street pattern is very tight and irregular, like Venice or Deh Mazang in Kabul.

This morning I walked out to photograph examples of beautiful urbanism that has emerged from informal settlement. I found some workmen digging up a broken pipe under a sidewalk. I stopped to take a close look, to see if there was any example of infrastructure photograph for my students. They only spoke Turkish, but I was listening for cognates from Dari. One man asked me a short question which included mamlakat, so I figured he was asking me what my work was. I replied in Farsi that I was teaching planning at Kabul University. Another man then said something which I didnít understand, and so another repeated slowly, Turk, Afghan, bradarlari. ĎTurks and Afghans are brothers.í Another took my hand and kissed me on both cheeks. Unlike most Turks, they said goodbye as to a fellow Muslim: khoda hafiz.

This happened so quickly I did not have time to explain that I was not Afghan and not Muslim. Actually, given that I speak no Turkish, I donít think I could have explained my situation. In fact, I do regard Turks as brothers in the sense of adamiyat; and even as blood kin because of my Greek ancestry. I know most Greeks would be uncomfortable with that, and Iím not sure how the Turks would feel about it either. But these were workers welcoming the first Afghan they had seen in person, and expressing their compassion for a brother from a country which has suffered. My role, then, was to respond graciously as a representative of Afghanistan. As a teacher in two universities in Kabul, taking photos of Istanbul to show my students, that is in fact my position. For the moment, I am a visitor from the east.

Sultanahmet neighborhood

Sultanahmet neighborhood

Sultanahmet neighborhood

Sultanahmet neighborhood

Sultanahmet neighborhood

SAhmet-sidewall

Sahmet-street

Sultanahmet neighborhood
Pictures from Sultanahmet neighborhood showing the irregular streets, small buildings, and wonderful character of the neighborhood.

Five cities, four weeks

During the spring of 2007 I taught at both Kabul University and Kabul Polytechnic. Both at these universities and in the municipality, students and planners alike are trying to envision the future path of urban development for Kabul and all of Afghanistan’s cities. During my inter-semester break I am visiting several cities to gather images and examples of various paths of urban development. These pages are addressed to Afghan planners and designers.

Istanbul | Sarajevo | Napoli | Venezia | London

How should Kabul develop now? How should it be built into a symbol of Afghan national pride? What will be the shape of sophisticated Afghan culture and the Afghan expression of modernity?

A critical issue for Afghans is to envision Kabul’s future development. More than half the built-up area of Kabul has been created since 1978, and most of it is informal: dense, small lots, irregular street patterns, almost no infrastructure. The Ministry of Urban Development wants to retain most of this informal development and upgrade it over time. But for many Afghans, this informal development is a reminder of Kabul’s “de-modernization” by thirty years of warfare. It represents a loss of urban culture, a ‘ruralization’ of the capital. The images of modernity for many Afghans are south Asian cities: particularly urban India as shown in films, music videos, and television series. And the ideal is Dubai: most expatriate Afghans fly through Dubai on their way into and out of Afghanistan, and many poorer Afghans are guest-workers in Dubai. So both upper- and working-class Afghans have first-hand experience of this hyper-new city; and recent construction in Kabul seems to be influenced by Dubai-as-visual-ideal.

There are several problems with using Dubai as a development model for Kabul. First of all, Dubai has an enormous amount of available wealth. Some of that comes from stable government, which is why Dubai is the regional trade and transit center. For Afghans the linkage of stable government and economic development is a valuable model. However Afghans seem to be following a very different path of contentious democratic politics as part of their national development, so the benevolent dictatorship model of the Dubai Emirate does not apply. Also, much of Dubai’s wealth comes from oil, and Afghans probably will never have that kind of windfall of wealth. Furthermore, the Emirate of Dubai is guiding new development out into desert land which it converts directly into urban land.

In contrast to Dubai, Kabul’s main challenge is to convert existing informal developments and adjacent agricultural land into an Afghan version of modernity. There seem to be three options:
A. Demolish the informal settlements and rebuild as a modern city, with wide streets in a regular grid pattern.
B. Upgrade the informal settlements over time into a modern city.
C. Avoid the problem altogether by building new urban development in the desert areas just outside of the existing city.

OPTION A: The staff in Kabul Municipality want to pursue the first option in a sophisticated way: take a 400-hectare area of informal development and demolish-rebuild in 40-hectare increments. Residents of the informal housing can be temporarily re-housed on-site until new, modern, higher-density housing is built. This scheme could work if there were a strong government in place with a commitment to urban housing, as there was under Daoud and Dr. Najib. But there does not seem to be a feasible market-based method of implementing this plan. Most Kabulis prefer single-family houses with gardens, so they would not choose to buy apartments. The microrayan apartments are desirable mostly because they have piped water, steam heat, and flush toilets, not because they are apartments. Urban infrastructure is extremely desirable for Afghans, but it can be developed for many urban building types.

OPTION C: Many Afghan planners want to develop new satellite cities (shahraks) in open areas adjacent to Kabul. In particular, the Ministry of Urban Development and President Karzai want to develop the arid plain north of Kabul into what is now officially called New Kabul. If this scheme works, it will be good for the future growth of the city. I expect that it will eventually work, if because Kabul is likely to grow tremendously over the next forty years; it will need all that new land as well as the existing city to fit perhaps ten million residents in another generation.

OPTION B? What about the existing city? Most of Kabul is informal development with no infrastructure. Is it such a messy problem that it cannot be ‘fixed’? Building new satellite cities is fine, and it is easier. But I am interested in what will happen to the huge areas of existing informal development. Can they be upgraded (behsazi) as the Ministry staff (and most Western aid-workers) recommend, and yield a capital that Afghans can be proud of?

It is likely that all three options will be pursued in Kabul, in various combinations. But I think that Afghans are the most uncomfortable with the future results of upgrading. Partly because of lack of examples. What do upgraded cities look like? This is why I am posting pictures of cities in the midst of upgrading: Istanbul, Sarajevo, Napoli, Venezia, and London. All of these cities are modern, and very different, and in the process of upgrading their infrastructure. They are also very attractive cities, defined by patterns of ‘informal’ (pre-modern) settlement and development. Hopefully these images and commentary will be useful to Afghans in developing a vision for the future development of the existing city of Kabul.

Paying respects for the dead

24 June 2007 / 3 Saratan 1386

On June 17, a bomb placed in a police academy bus exploded while the bus was parked in a busy area just outside of the public gate of the Police Commandery. Thirty-five people were killed including twenty-four police officers and eleven bystanders. The next day (Aug 18) as I was going under sedation for my second surgery, I was reflecting on life, death, and what it means to be engaged in work here in Afghanistan as a foreigner. I decided that, once I had recovered enough strength, I would go pay my respects to the officers who were killed. As it happens, one of my students from Kabul Polytechnic is the son of a police officer, a 30-year veteran who works in the Commandery. So I arranged with Faisal to meet there at 2:00 today. I went to Flower-Market Street, bought 35 roses, and showed up without a plan. Faisal showed me the place where the explosion had happened: it was the middle of a very busy, very dusty parking lot. We had to keep stepping aside as buses moved in and out. Somehow it did not feel like the right place to remember the dead. So we called his father and went into the Commandery to meet him.

The officers inside were extremely appreciative. They articulated my intention better than I had: ‘So many people have been killed. We just forget them and move on. We should remember them and the sacrifices they have made.’ I was thinking of what Giorgio Agamben describes as homo sacer: humans who are reduced to a state where their death has no consequences. That is what the Global War on Terror is doing to so many Afghans: a dozen killed here and there, by accident. Not even a reprimand for the Western soldiers who kill them. Executions with no accountability; terrorists slaughtering police and civilians alike in public places. I feel it is time to undo that state of exception. If an Afghan gets killed, especially while they are trying to help their country, others should care. Especially foreigners. University professors are held in high regard in Afghanistan, so I think the officers appreciated the double symbolism of having an ustad who is also American come to remember their fallen comrades.

Faisal’s father obtained a list of nineteen of the officers who were killed. We went to a garden, just inside the commandery wall, where some of the body-parts had landed after the explosion. As Faisal read out each name, I laid a flower in the grass. As I laid the nineteenth rose I asked, “which way is the qibla (the direction to the Kaaba in Mecca)?” The officers pointed, and I laid that rose facing Mecca, just as the faces of the dead are laid to face Mecca. I had extra roses left, so I gave them to the officers, who each laid them in the grass as well.

Here are the names of the officers killed:

Muhammad Qasem, walad-e Alim Khan
Ghulam Ehsy, walad-e Ghulam Dastagir
Harun, walad-e Imam Beg
Akhtar Muhammad, walad-e Kalam al-Din
Karimullah,walad-e Abad al-Salam
Hazrat Muhammad, walad-e M. Yunus Somanyar
Habibullah,walad-e Abad al-Hamil
Muman Ghulam Gul
Pacha, ajir academy
Kaka Qayum, walad-e Abad al-Ahad
Abad Aljalil, walad-e Habib jan
Saida jan
Musafar Safari, walad-e Mulla Faisal
Muhammad Ashaq
Khwaja Akbar
Muhammad Gul
Yama
Hashem Muhammad Sharif
Amir Muhammad, walad-e M. Ali Samunuwal

Five more were not named.

Twenty-four more officers were injured.

We went back inside the building and Fasial’s father asked if I wanted a Pepsi. I said green tea would be better; it was more healthy. A guard who was standing within earshot just handed me his glass of fresh tea. We went back to his office, where the mood lightened quickly. There are a bunch of sockets around the room, with wires hanging out of them. The thick wire is an ethernet cable, and apparently a network with internet is being set up by ISAF. Another wire is for closed-circuit television. Faisal chuckled as he translated: “the officers are wondering if the TV circuit is for them, or for ISAF to watch them.” I said “Mmm, I think it is for ISAF.”

Invisible cities: the Twilight Zone version

21 June 2007 / 31 Jauza 1386

A foray into the unknown

[Caution: there is some whining involved in this essay, which may be irritating. But this farce of errors is also informative.]

Yesterday I received a text message from Marianne O’Grady:

We r here @ park palace. lv 4 ghazni 2mro.

Marianne had been kind enough to buy and bring two urban planning books for me to Kabul, and it looked like yesterday evening would be my only chance to pick them up from her. I was two days post-op, and getting cabin-fever from lying on my back reading books and watching DVDs, so I thought a small foray would do me good.

Unfortunately I could not contact Marianne. The number her SMS came in on was not her phone number, and I could not send an SMS back; Roshan had failed to fix this problem on my phone for a month running. But I thought I knew which was the Park Palace Hotel, in Chahr-Ra-e Deh Afghanan. As it turns out, the Park Hotel and the Park Plaza hotel are both at Deh Afghanan, but the Park Palace was apparently somewhere in Shahr-e Naw. The taxi driver to took me to Chahr-Ra-e Ansari said that the upper levels of Kabul City Center were the Park Palace. However the concierge there ssniffily pointed out that it was the Hotel Safi, and the Park Palace was in the building next door. But the building next door was the Park Residence, and the guard made it clear this was not the Park Palace. He said it was on the other side of the intersection. So I went there, and found the Sultan Palace hotel, and the folks at the front had never heard of the Park Palace. So I went to a travel agency across the street, and they were also at a loss; but they speculated that it was on the road adjacent to the park itself, just north of the Park Residence hotel.

Meanwhile I was desperately trying to get my SMS to work, by calling Roshan customer service. every other call would fail, as usual; and when the call got through to ringing the help desk, every third call would simply hang up at that point. Through various calls I learned that the instructions on the Roshan website were wrong: you had to add the international calling-code prefix in front of the SMS service number, which meant:
0093 0799 900 100
Instead of:
0799 900 100
Hoewver the longer number did not work, and then after another call I realized that when I had added the international calling code, I had forgotten to drop the zero before the local number. So I changed it to:
0093 799 900 100
and it still did not work. I still could not contact Marianne, and two hours later, she had not called (so I did not have her phone number), and I was feeling faint. I had not meant to be out and walking and in a very high-stress situation only two days post-op. But I had been waiting more than a month for these books, and this looked like my only chance to get them.

The suggestion that the Park Palace was adjacent to Sahr-e Naw Park was also wrong. But a building manager there knew where it was, a half-kilometer west of Chahr-Ra-e Ansari, beyond a UN compound. I trudged out there, found his directions to be exact, and came to a gate with three guards and no sign whatsoever. I asked them where the Park Palace hotel was, and they said, ‘here.’

Overlapping but mutually invisible geographies

All of my search for the Park Palace Hotel had been through Afghans, in Farsi. That was my primary mistake. What I should have done at Kabul City Center is gone down into the cafe where the foreigners have espresso and ask, in a loud, flat, American accent: Does anyone know where the Park Palace Hotel is? There are many sites, like Guesthouse #26, Anar Restaruant, and the Gandmak Lodge, where Afghans almost never go. Most of these places have no signs on the outside, and they are a bit out of the way. But since the expat community socializes mostly with itself, you get to learn this geography informally, by word-of-mouth or dropping off friends after dinnner-parties. If you are not in that circuit, the geography is almost completely invisible.

On the other hand, the geography of the rest of Kabul is opaque to foreigners, as I have mentioned before. You need to understand a fair bit of Dari or Pashto and have a good idea where the major landmarks and intersections are. If I am trying to take a 10-Afghani ‘tunis’ from Kota-e Sangi to the Polytechnic, I need to know that “Kart-e Parwan, Sara’-e Shomali!” means the minivan can drop me off near the gate of the Polytechnic. Since there are no street names, and foreigners have their own landmarks to go by, I have heard of party invitations being emailed out that do not show a single locally-familiar landmark. A local taxi-driver could not follow those directions even if you translated them into perfect Farsi.

It is like recently-discovered dark matter and dark energy: whole civilizations could be passing through our bodies right now, but since these forms of matter and energy do not interact with our own, we can be co-located but totally unaware of the existence of the other. I had spent all my time and energy in Kabul learning one geography, so I had not developed the contacts and tools to learn the other. It was uncanny.

At last I found Marianne and she delivered the books: Great Streets and The Boulevard Book, by Allan Jacobs and Jacobs, MacDonald, and Rofe respectively. I think these will be enormously useful here, so I am so thankful she brought them! But by the time I arrived at the hotel, two hours later, I was totally spent and Marianne was very displeased that I was not more gracious about the favor she had done me by hauling these books literally halfway across the planet. Since I was about to pass out by then, I just paid her and headed off as quietly as I could, to get back to my antibiotics and ibuprofen. On the way, I found a Roshan shop and dared them to get my phone to send SMS messages. The fellow behind the counter looked at the number I had put in, and said: “all of the numbers here in Kabul switched to ten digits two years ago, but not the Roshan SMS service number. You had:
0093 799 900 100
in your phone. I took out the extra nine in the prefix, so it is now:
0093 79 900 100.”

Now it works; I can send SMS. Perhaps if I had gone to the central Roshan outlet in the first place and paid $49 for a new SIM card rather than buy it off a local for $21, this problem would have been resolved at the outset. But one month ago I actually did go to the central Roshan office, both to fix whatever problem was preventing me from sending SMS messages and to change over the SIM-card registration from the fellow from whom I had bought the card. Maybe if I had called the Farsi-language customer help, and understood Farsi with absolute fluency rather than my ugly-but-utilitarian pidgin, someone could have explained this all to me. The problem is being in between. If I had played strictly by expat rules and only spoken English, maybe all these frustrations would not have occurred. Perhaps it is time to learn that game too, and pretend that I understand no Farsi at, all like 90% of the foreigners here. It is a whole parallel universe, right here.