Living Behind the Veil

I'm often asked what I wear in Afghanistan and what it's like to wear a veil. It's freedom. Freedom to have a bad hair day, freedom to arrange my chadar to conceal the curve of my breasts and backside, freedom to not be an expatriate for a little while. It means freedom to hide even on the street from the Afghan men's eyes which seem to strip me naked.
When I relax my shoulders and walk less purposefully, less confidently, my eyes downcast and covered by sunglasses, I pass for an Afghan woman. I hear the men whisper in Dari, "Is she a foreigner or local woman?" I chuckle but am silent. On the street, I'm also a free target....freely exposed to groping, sexual innuendos whispered to me as a man bicycles by, free to have stones thrown at me, freely seen as no one's wife, daughter, sister, mother, friend, or boss. I step inside my gate, and remove my chapan and chadar. Now I'm someone's boss, motherhood returns to me as little steps run to greet me, and I receive a kiss from my adoring husband. Now I'm free to his loving and gentle eyes which know and enjoy my curves, free to once again be under the protective umbrella of being a wife, mother, friend, colleague, boss, niece, sister, daughter, woman.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Danger of Jail Under the Taliban

It was our mistake. We were brand new in country, and life under the Taliban for foreigners meant great care in following the rules.  We were so focused on unpacking and settling into our temporary home, acquiring language that first month, adjusting to shopping in the local bazaar, we weren't paying attention to our visa expiration date.

We were well past the thirty date expiration, and Dan T. had already been in jail for weeks for overstaying his visa date. Being a typical American, I snorted inside. "Just let them put a young American woman and her 3-month-old baby in jail. There will be quite the outcry."  My nationalistic pride knew no bounds, and was out of sync with reality.

I was naive.

Neal and I packed up the baby, and took a taxi over to the office in Wazir. There, Harri, Danny V, and Neal and I stood in a circle where Harri prayed with grave concern in this voice that the Taliban wouldn't jail us.

Danny V prayed that the eyes of the Talib visa official would be blinded to the expiration date on our visas, and simply grant us the new ones. 

Their passionate praying overwhelmed me.  The seriousness of the potential reality began to sink in. For the first time I began to get scared.  They continued to pray, and I began to think through logistics: "How many diapers did I pack?  What did I need to survive jail with my baby? I'm so glad there's not time to e-mail or call mom - it's better she not know about this until the outcome."

Prayers finished, and Danny V drove us over to the visa office. We were escorted straight into the visa office, where the Talib, all dressed in black (why is it always black?), greeted the men.  We all sat down. He spoke English and began to read the form:

Neal's job in country: Neal answered "learning language right now." 
Anna's job:  Neal answered "Accompany husband." 
Baby's job: I decided to take courage and answer "eat and sleep."   The Talib chuckled, while not really looking at me, and stamped our visas. 

Danny V believed that the Talib official's eyes were blinded, he never brought up the issue of the expired visa.  It was good.

I wasn't ready to go to jail that day anyway.

Theological Hubris


At a small group Bible study we were visiting, we were asked to comment on a passage of scripture with the role of men and women in mind.  I answered with words straight from the ESV English text of Scripture.

Since the answer was not in the opinion of the leader, I was told, "Sorry to disagree with what you said, but..."   It was an amazing display of hubris. I was shamed in front of the whole group.

Theological Hubris: Using Scripture selectively to build up one view which fits the way "I" want life to work.

But am I that different? Do I take Scripture and bend it to form to my god, my view of how he acts or should act? Is it possible I am getting God and life all mixed up?