Arriving in Kabul

The flight landed around 11:30. We were sitting in front so we could take off quickly. The line for women and men were separated. You could see people who had somebody that they knew would go right away to the front! The airport looks like the war ruins, BIG block of concrete and damn cold I didn’t dare to make any photo, I didn’t want to stick out as tourist. I had my black scarf tightly closed, it was not necessary, there were so many women that they just had a colorful narrow scarf on. I was the first in the women line, while the solder was checking my passport, a pretty well dressed guy who was chatting to the immigration officer (they knew each other apparently) told me, OH you are Iranian! I thought you were from USA! I was damn scared; this guy had his eyes on me since I was in Dubai! And in all the security things they tell you to be sure that people do not get the idea that you are stranger and try to stay anonymous! I was really annoyed.
Then I went to fill in the forms, obligatory for foreigners, they say to keep eyes on them.



"Arrival hall!"



"Just outside of departure hall"


A guy came to me and said Oh you are Maryam jan? (jan is a word that we use in Persian for people who are very very close to you, but I gathered later that here they use it as a sort of respect, as well as being friendly), I remember I got so shock that I just stared at the guy. Who told me that Hashem jan, (the guy who was going to pick me up) could not come inside and he is waiting outside, I am working here and I came to pick you up, he kept saying that ,God is nice, such a lucky incident. I just saw you and I thought it should be Maryam jan! I was really confused, I sort of went close to my Bodyguard! (military contractor), and asked him to keep eye on me. I was really scared, since I saw all the foreigners were totally closed up and they just collected in a small group in the corner waiting for their suitcases, and Afghans were very happy and noisy. They were at home, I was sort of insider and outsider. I could hear and understand their joy of being home, it would be just the same as in Tehran airport when you arrive, but I didn’t know this people, and I was a foreigner too. I could feel closer to all of these European NGOs people, because I was also totally aware of security issues, etc. At last the luggage were arrived, we walked out of the hall to the open area, which was not stones or asphalt or any ting else except of plain muddy ground. With some buildings, which were totally torn down, I felt I am walking in war zone. The first impression: contradiction of ruined and destroyed area with laugh and happiness of families visiting home, nonmilitary foreigners who were scared and wanted to be as invisible as possible and solders who were happy to be back on their jobs.



"Departure area of Kabul airport"




"Old airport"


In the open space I felt more calm, and I didn’t mind walking and dragging my suitcase in the mud, reminded me of when I was ten, living in Manjil, it was the same sticky mud!

I saw Hashem for the first time, he is really nice guy who took care of me, and drove me around all the time I was in Kabul. Later I learned that he wanted to go to Dushanbe (Tajikistan) for new year. (He is from Tajik part of Afghanistan) but he canceled it for taking care of me.

I felt at home.