Bribes and other improprieties
Just flying one hour from Kabul to Islamabad entailed so much lunacy! Somewhat shocking and frustrating, but still refreshing in that it is so different from an airport trip in the States.
The first stop to getting into the airport is a checkpoint outside the run by the Afghan police. So I go in with my ticket and passport ready, all set for some form of legit encounter. That was dumb. A small woman in a dress version of the dark green police uniform looked at me for a bit, then got up and came over. Didn’t take my outstretched ticket so I offer my passport, but she wasn’t interested in that either. I gathered the big table in the room was for searching bags, so I made ‘pick it up?’motions at my backpack. I half picked it up and gestured to the table (she was a little lady, so I thought I’d help.) But, no, she makes the bok sheesh gesture at me. That’s Dari for bribe. But, this is all hindsight, bc at the time, I had no idea what she was doing. A lot of her gesturing, me smiling stupidly and gesturing back, and her getting increasing irritated ensued. Finally, I burst out, ooh, you want bok sheesh!! Not to call her out (but I wouldn’t have given it to her anyway), but I was so happy to finally understand. Well, that ended that encounter quickly. She literally shoved me out of the tent, and my driver who was diligently waiting outside hurriedly grabbed my bags. In the car he told me, “Kiri (which is how lots of people in the mid-east pronounced my name too. Plus its a cheese here that I like.) yell bok sheesh no good.” And he also said ‘Afghan police no good.’ I said, “ I know. She wanted bok sheesh” to which he vehemently yelled and shook his finger, “Noooooooooo bok sheesh!” Babrak, for one, will not be perpetuating the corruption problem among Afghan authorities.
So, female hut #2 was also a good time, but for different reasons. A woman was sitting in this tiny tiny hut with her son, just chilling. She’s not interested in my passport or ticket either but she pointed at my carry-on bag so I set that down and let her go through it. Then she gets up, takes my arms and pulls them out to my side and pats them down. Before I know it, she is completely feeling me up—we are talking Tune-In Tokyo-style! (I want to know who gets that joke.) That’s over soon enough and as I’m gathering my bag she is nudging her son to look at me, and gesturing to my eyes and hair. She seems genuinely annoyed that he’s not interested in me (mind you, he’s not a day over 3 years old.) That was strange, but it sort of explained some disturbing behavior I encountered the other day.
I was at a mango stand--I hadn’t had any in a few days and the orange stains on the corners of my mouth were beginning to fade. There were some young boys there who were cute and excited to say Hi and Hello to me and I was friendly back. But this boy, who was maybe 10 or so went from “hello” to looking me up and down and licking his lips! Ugh, it was disturbing.
While I’m on the subject, I sat outside a bit at the airport, inside the UN compound so I didn’t even need to wear my headscarf. But this worker comes up and asks me where I’m going, blah blah. Then, also, looks me up and down unabashedly. Asks me if I’m married. I yes, indignantly. That doesn’t stop his ogling though. The next question is (as if being married doesn’t matter so much) he asks if I have children. So I feign a proud mom face and say, yes, two. And, by the way I was looking today, I could have easily passed for having twins on the way, so I don’t’ know what the hell all the hassle is about. I think men here just think western women are all sluts and harlots. The take the hair showing and bare arms to mean we are up for fulfilling their fantasies and the smut they see on satellite TV porn.
So, that was the end of the craziness, but just the beginning of four hours of waiting to board. Usually I don’t care if my plane is delayed, or get upset about anything else outside of my control—in the grand scheme of things its not important one bit. But I think my grand scheme was shrinking with every hour of BLARING Indian music and then Indian soap operas and music videos with more warbling and some wailing as well. I guess TV for most Afghans is still novel enough that the experience is enhanced by playing it very loudly. Plus, the snack bar had closed and my Snickers had stopped satisfying.
Ok, that’s the end of the whining. After boarding, we waiting another hour for a dust storm.
The first stop to getting into the airport is a checkpoint outside the run by the Afghan police. So I go in with my ticket and passport ready, all set for some form of legit encounter. That was dumb. A small woman in a dress version of the dark green police uniform looked at me for a bit, then got up and came over. Didn’t take my outstretched ticket so I offer my passport, but she wasn’t interested in that either. I gathered the big table in the room was for searching bags, so I made ‘pick it up?’motions at my backpack. I half picked it up and gestured to the table (she was a little lady, so I thought I’d help.) But, no, she makes the bok sheesh gesture at me. That’s Dari for bribe. But, this is all hindsight, bc at the time, I had no idea what she was doing. A lot of her gesturing, me smiling stupidly and gesturing back, and her getting increasing irritated ensued. Finally, I burst out, ooh, you want bok sheesh!! Not to call her out (but I wouldn’t have given it to her anyway), but I was so happy to finally understand. Well, that ended that encounter quickly. She literally shoved me out of the tent, and my driver who was diligently waiting outside hurriedly grabbed my bags. In the car he told me, “Kiri (which is how lots of people in the mid-east pronounced my name too. Plus its a cheese here that I like.) yell bok sheesh no good.” And he also said ‘Afghan police no good.’ I said, “ I know. She wanted bok sheesh” to which he vehemently yelled and shook his finger, “Noooooooooo bok sheesh!” Babrak, for one, will not be perpetuating the corruption problem among Afghan authorities.
So, female hut #2 was also a good time, but for different reasons. A woman was sitting in this tiny tiny hut with her son, just chilling. She’s not interested in my passport or ticket either but she pointed at my carry-on bag so I set that down and let her go through it. Then she gets up, takes my arms and pulls them out to my side and pats them down. Before I know it, she is completely feeling me up—we are talking Tune-In Tokyo-style! (I want to know who gets that joke.) That’s over soon enough and as I’m gathering my bag she is nudging her son to look at me, and gesturing to my eyes and hair. She seems genuinely annoyed that he’s not interested in me (mind you, he’s not a day over 3 years old.) That was strange, but it sort of explained some disturbing behavior I encountered the other day.
I was at a mango stand--I hadn’t had any in a few days and the orange stains on the corners of my mouth were beginning to fade. There were some young boys there who were cute and excited to say Hi and Hello to me and I was friendly back. But this boy, who was maybe 10 or so went from “hello” to looking me up and down and licking his lips! Ugh, it was disturbing.
While I’m on the subject, I sat outside a bit at the airport, inside the UN compound so I didn’t even need to wear my headscarf. But this worker comes up and asks me where I’m going, blah blah. Then, also, looks me up and down unabashedly. Asks me if I’m married. I yes, indignantly. That doesn’t stop his ogling though. The next question is (as if being married doesn’t matter so much) he asks if I have children. So I feign a proud mom face and say, yes, two. And, by the way I was looking today, I could have easily passed for having twins on the way, so I don’t’ know what the hell all the hassle is about. I think men here just think western women are all sluts and harlots. The take the hair showing and bare arms to mean we are up for fulfilling their fantasies and the smut they see on satellite TV porn.
So, that was the end of the craziness, but just the beginning of four hours of waiting to board. Usually I don’t care if my plane is delayed, or get upset about anything else outside of my control—in the grand scheme of things its not important one bit. But I think my grand scheme was shrinking with every hour of BLARING Indian music and then Indian soap operas and music videos with more warbling and some wailing as well. I guess TV for most Afghans is still novel enough that the experience is enhanced by playing it very loudly. Plus, the snack bar had closed and my Snickers had stopped satisfying.
Ok, that’s the end of the whining. After boarding, we waiting another hour for a dust storm.
posted by Carey McCarthy at 11:56 PM
3 Comments:
Girls Just Want to Have Fun - 1985
Girls Just Want to Have Fun - 1985
girls just want to have fun? try every elementary school playground in the U.S. it's also a way to dig two clams at once in Nova Scotia.
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