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Letters from India and Afghanistan
Nishat Kurwa traveled to India and Afghanistan to produce
the stories of young people in Bombay and Kabul. During her travels, the Muslim
Indian American woman discovered a different viewpoint on a place that she considered
home, and a surprising sense of belonging in a place that was foreign to her.
These are her letters to Youth Radio.
Bombay, Thursday, November 27, 2003:
Hi,
 Sorry I haven't written up until this point but I've been getting in at strange
times, and it takes awhile to get onto the Internet at my grandfather's house…
It's very different being in Bombay and seeing it through a producer's eyes.
I've noticed all sorts of changes in my past few visits, but they really seem
to have culminated in a storm of upheaval at this point.
Some of the changes I'm talking about: there are Barristas - Indian versions
of Starbucks - everywhere, and college kids are hanging there in the throngs.
That is, when they're not at daytime nightclubs like Fire and Ice, which are
successful partly because of their veneer of innocence. Young women, no matter
how much they deny it, are dressing differently and are more into their looks
than ever before; when asked why, everyone first says, because of MTV. Seventeen
Magazine has just come to India...so have department stores complete with Beyonce
and Ashanti shopping soundtracks and 'ethnic' clothing sections…so has the Walmart-like
store called Big Bazaar - and India now also has its first boy band, dubbed,
originally enough, The Band of Boys.
Of course, many young folks here are seeing the Western influence as something
positive, that signifies a sort of coming of age for the country, and their
own importance as global consumers. I don't think I have any romantic illusions
that progress has to stop in order to preserve India's cultural identity, but
I do worry that some cities could soon turn into another outpost of globalization
and look alarmingly like one big American outlet mall with a bunch of Indians
milling about.
More soon…
Nishat
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Kabul, Thursday, December 4, 2003:
Hi everyone,
 Being
in Kabul is a bit sad after being in booming, vibrant Bombay. It feels rather
defeated when you drive the streets. The only time I've really felt unsafe was
at the U.S. Embassy, but I was only there for five minutes so it was all right.
Kabul looks like a place that's been through hell...the movie theater we visited
today had bullet holes even in the interior doors, the trees are starved and
dry, there's piles of rubble all over, and a constant cloud of dust and grayness.
(Although I guess that's more a product of the natural atmosphere.) The airport
is very close to the mountains, and as you descend into the Kabul airport, you're
so close to this range of the Hindu Kush that you feel you could just reach
down and brush some of the snow off with your hands. I couldn't believe the
detail in which I was seeing the texture of the mountain range…it was fabulously
beautiful and of course I didn't have my camera out.
Unless we're truly in the middle of the city, we have a view of the mountains
that ring Kabul and they're just amazing. Some are covered with snow and having
them in the foreground has pronounced every sunset I've seen here. I keep trying
to put my finger on how Kabul is different from Bombay, but they're entirely
incomparable. Many of the residential neighborhoods feel very suburban here,
as opposed to Bombay's high rise flats mixed in with business districts. We've
made several trips to west Kabul, where much of the American and 80’s bombings
happened, and it's very strange to see the Kabul you expect to see...jagged
projectiles rising from the remnants of abandoned homes, the mountain scenery
viewed through gaping holes in big theaters, and piles of bricks - some that
are rubble left over from destroyed structures, and some that are bright red,
stacked and waiting to be made into new buildings.
Nishat
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Kabul, Monday, December 8, 2003:
Hi again,
 My
initial reaction to the city may have been a little hasty. Defeated is not quite
the right characterization...more like subdued? There is a lot of life when
you get into the busy downtown. But because of the gray weather and the brown
dust and mountains surrounding the city, as well as the matching attire of many
of the men walking the streets wrapped in shawls, the whole mood seems wrapped
in brown too.
The first night I arrived (the same day of Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld’s
visit), there was an explosion near the US Embassy, about 15 minutes from where
I'm staying. No one was hurt.
We've spent a lot of time in different English and computer classes, which are
big trends here. Some are in makeshift classrooms and very grassroots (read:
broke) and others are full-fledged tutoring centers, like Huntington or Sylvan
in the States. Everyone there is eager to speak to us in English but it makes
for better tape when they do so in Farsi (more descriptive).
Not sure if I already mentioned the visit to the medical college, but can I
just say again, it was very touching and the director started to cry in the
middle of the interview. Almost everywhere we visit, the refrain is..."can you
just help us?" Interesting emotional challenge considering how objective we
are supposed to be.
Today we visited a private girls' school and also the Afghan Women’s Welfare
Department, an official sounding name for a small nonprofit. The stories are
coming together…
And being here is a nice affirmation of my own upbringing and background, in
the sense that it's been very easy for me to slip into other people's lives
without creating too many ripples. Not just because of the way I look, but because
I embody some of the mannerisms and that are particular to Muslims, know the
words that are passports into conversations and moments, and am seen as having
something in common with many of the people I meet.
I'm grateful to feel this way in many places...in India of course, but also
in different parts of Asia, as I suspect I also would in North Africa, the Arab
world, etc. Makes things easier. Obviously, the minidisk instantly makes us
objects of curiosity; no matter how much you try and convince yourself you fit
in, people everywhere abroad recognize you're American simply by the way you
walk. But, it's comforting that it’s only taken a day or so to feel at home…sort
of.
I better go. But, don't worry, things are good, and I'll see you all soon.
Nishat
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