Chaikhane

Will: There is a programme called ‘chaikhane’ which is broadcast weekly on the Tolo TV station in Afghanistan. A chaikhane is a traditional Central Asian meeting place where men gather to drink tea, exchange news, and occasionally stay the night. This particular programme is presented by Wakil Sulayman, a community elder from across the river, who hosts various personalities as they recall stories from Kabul’s old city. Several weeks ago the senior elder in Murad Khane, Pahlawan Aziz, invited Wakil Sulayman to present the programme in one of the first buildings that we restored. We refer to the building as ‘Peacock House’ due to the ornately carved peacocks that decorate the cedar shuttering on the front of the house. Three years ago it was on the point of collapse. The sole plate had rotted and a significant portion of the building was leaning alarmingly to one side. Yet the carved woodwork is exquisite. Intricate interwoven floral motifs are carved into the doorway and decorative niches around the room. Cedar shuttering mediates between the cool interior and the outside courtyard whilst stained glass allows light to fall playfully upon the rich red Turkmen rugs which cover the floor. The Peacock House is now used by the community for shura meetings. It is a very visual reminder, not only to the local community, but also to visitors, that this part of Kabul was once considered the cultural and commercial centre of the Afghan nation.

Over the course of the morning thirty two local elders drifted into Peacock House and arranged themselves around plates of nuts, raisins, and melon, sitting cross-legged on toshaks (cushions) around the room. Wakil Sulayman and Pahlawan Aziz sat vaingloriously in the centre of the room like the King and Queen from an oriental chess set. The young Tolo TV cameraman and his sound engineer buzzed around them like flies adjusting their equipment, and occasionally their well oiled hair. An ivory headed elder called Sayed Turab, whispered theatrically to a group of wakils (community leaders) from Bagh-e-Ali Mardan Khan, “Shush! Don’t talk. Millions are watching.” The man next to me nodded indiscreetly at Kaka Qayoum in the corner and told me that his grandfather, Shahkul, had been the wakil of Murad Khane and had lived to the age of ninety. He then told me with some degree of satisfaction, that his successor, Kaka Faqir, had been the first person in Kabul to own an iron sheeted roof.

Pahlawan Aziz cleared his throat and the eddies of conversation around the room began to trickle away. He talked passionately about the respect old men had always enjoyed in Afghan culture. Ironically, his flow was interrupted by the young sound engineer who beckoned him to talk closer to the microphone. Pahlawan Aziz resumed but not before catching the eye of the young protagonist with a look of contained irritation. He said that when he was a boy, he would have crossed the street to avoid walking past an elder and would never have entered a shop in which an elder was being served. Unfortunately, he was interrupted again, but this time it was by the local imam from Chindawal, another shi’a quarter across the river in the old city. Sayed Mohammad Ali Sadr wore the black turban and cloak of a descendant of the Prophet Mohammad and the aviator sunglasses which seem to be de rigueur for imams in this part of the world. The whole room rose to greet him and Pahlawan Aziz was forced to wait whilst he circulated the room greeting everybody with a kiss and a handshake, before finally taking his place next to Wakil Sulayman. Pahlawan Aziz tried again. This time someone started to open some of the shuttered windows to allow some air in. Sounds of a baby crying and children playing drifted in through the open shutters. There was the sound of a croaking frog and the Imam reached inside his cloak for his mobile phone.

Wakil Sulayman judiciously took the microphone from Pahlawan Aziz and began to talk about the famous poets and calligraphers who had come from this area. The microphone was then handed around the circle and in turn, the elders described their customs, traditions, and ancestors. Samir Jan said that he used to play in these streets with Dr. Najib, who went on to become Afghan President. Mohammad Qayoum described wedding parties and the custom of a groom seeing his bride for the first time through her reflection in a mirror. Mahmoud Khan Sabri said that his ancestors had arrived here 250 years ago and mentioned some of the famous religious teachers who have lived in this area.

Vast plates of kabuli pilau, the national rice dish, were brought in and the microphone was soon forgotten. The Imam asked me to come and sit next to him and I noticed that behind his white beard, aviator sunglasses, and black turban, he actually had quite a youthful face. He told me that he used to teach at the German school in kabul and loved coaching the basketball and ping pong teams. He invited me to come and see his takiakhane (shi’a centre of worship and community service) which he said was 200 years old. Pahlawan Aziz leaned over and presented me with a chunk of dunba (fat from a sheep’s tail). As he passed it over, it wobbled on the palm of his hand. He boasts that he eats 3 kilos of dunba before breakfast and always challenges me to a dunba eating contest. The joke is becoming routine as he says the same thing every time he sees me. I normally reply by saying that I will match his 3 kilos of dunba only if he eats his karakuli hat. This time I had no option but to accept the wobbly offering and tried my best to swallow it whole. My body was momentarily gripped by involuntary spasms of revulsion as it slipped down into my belly. I quickly looked for something else on the plate to take the taste away while Pahlawan Aziz searched for more fat to give me.

These elders have all lived through female emancipation in the 1960s, soviet occupation in the 70s and 80s, civil war and Taleban brutality in the 90s, and American bombing in 2001. But their memories extend far beyond these recent traumas to a time when the traditions and customs that they are so fond of, would have been commonplace. Events like this, which are broadcast to millions across the country, can be an important way of rallying a post-conflict population around traditional Afghan heritage and identity. It is a particular privilege for us that this episode took place in a traditional Afghan house that has had its pride restored to it through careful restoration and community involvement.