DISPATCHES
Letters from Kabul

from Deb Boyer

I’m a Vermont woman, so I guess that qualifies me to have an opinion. At least in this forum. Unfortunately, I’ve only been a part time Vermont Woman, due to work and a lifestyle that has required long absences, over the last ten years, from my Vermont home. The last three years I had the privilege of running a bank in Mongolia. That experience left me convinced that I was no longer qualified to be a banker in Vermont, but it does qualify me for running a micro finance (banking for the poor) agency in Afghanistan. Go figure.

My sister’s first reaction to the "good news" about my new job in Kabul was "no." As if she got a say in what her 49 year old little sister does with her life. She seems to quickly have come to her senses or I did a good job of helping her see the why of this act of foolishness.

The job came to me the way all the jobs seem to. An e-mail from my main employer, DAI (consultant company on the D.C. beltway), asking if I was interested in a World Bank-funded project that needed my skills. I innocently responded that the work looked okay, but I thought the Afghans might have a problem working with and for a woman. "Not so," came the reply. "Most of the organizations doing micro finance in Afghanistan were being run by women and I’d mostly be working with women." Well, that certainly turned out not to be true, but I am a sucker for the unusual. And, what a hoot to be a woman in charge in a place where most men have never even imagined a woman boss.

I just couldn’t resist the chance to be a thorn in the side of some of those poor, ill-taught men. Of course, that’s not what I thought I was saying yes to. I convinced myself and those that asked that I was going to Afghanistan to be a positive role model for all those repressed women. The truth only became clear to me when I was told, by other women, I should wear a head scarf — the chador. It’s a challenge I struggle with every day. It still angers me and pushes my stubborn button big time.

After three months of working in Kabul, I went home to Vermont for Christmas where I reflected on my obstinate nature and decided that this New Year’s resolution would be to cover my stupid head. After all, it wouldn’t be wise to piss off the guys carrying the guns. And of course, the best way to be comfortable with this new scarf wearing decision is to go shopping. I bought two new and more fashionable scarves to replace the heavy shawls I’d purchased in Kabul. Perhaps a fashion statement is what it would take.

Well, I’ve been back for two weeks and I love my new scarves. I wear them around my neck and under the new down coat. I’ve even pulled the pretty gauzy one up over the back of my head when walking down the street, as a tentative attempt to comply. Not so high on the head to seem like I was knuckling under to the demands of these foolish men, but just about there in case anyone were to challenge my cultural sensitivity. Talk about middle of the road thinking. At least I’m trying to let go of the anger that seems to be associated with the head covering. I can’t help but look at the men with their bare heads. They don’t have to cover up. Nor should I!

Sorry, I forget myself.

So, this is my introduction. Stubborn Vermont woman with opinions. Now residing and working in Kabul, Afghanistan. Letters to follow about life in the land of the mullahs… behind the walls.