Stepping to the New Culture

by Bakytgul Yetylbayeva

Note: I remember when the below piece got A and the highest grade in the writing class, I was pretty jealous. I could not believe it could have been that good. My essay did not get better than C. But, when I am reading it now after two years, I do not have anything to say.

Bakytgul Yetylbayeva, or what we called her by, B.G., was the first international student at American University of Afghanistan. She returned to her country, and left us with so many good memories. She was a friend; a good friend.

Photo by Abrahim Rasouli

In my imagination, Afghanistan was always a dangerous place, and I never considered it a place to live. Years ago, I knew a lady, who wanted to go to Afghanistan, and I thought she was brave. Amazingly, unexpected events happen in our lives, and we do things we never imagine we would do. I was about to move to Afghanistan, and to step into this unique culture. New culture might throw challenges to a newcomer. Entering afghan culture required adjusting to a new lifestyle.

It was a Thursday. I was on my way to Kabul, in a small King Air airplane that seats maximum 10 passengers. I was told by my employer, that I was supposed to have my head covered when landing in Kabul, and I had a scarf prepared. Airy and small, it was the best scarf I could find in Kazakhstan’s famous market called Barakholka. The white tunic that I had on was also found there especially for this country. I hoped that I was dressed appropriately for the Afghan culture. As the plane started to descend, I got my first view of Afghanistan – numerous brown mountains – brown was the dominant color in this land. When we landed, my future house-mate, Venera, and my American neighbor, Pam, were waiting for me. As Pactec staff they were allowed to come out to the plane. After introducing ourselves to each other we walked to the parking area. Soon we were riding in a van with the PACTEC logo on it through the crowded streets of Kabul. I curiously watched the people on the streets. Some women were covered from head to toe in blue burqas. Many men wore long shirts and pants of the same fabric and color. Some men had round hats on that were made of felt. I saw houses that were built right on the top of mountains. It seemed like an ancient world.

Photo by David Shaw

When the gates of the house opened I saw beautiful green lawn and red roses in the yard. A beautiful white dog was welcoming us happily running back and forth wagging his tail. Venera gave me a tour of the house. She explained that running water was not limitless. There was an electric water pump that pumped the water into the water tank on the roof of the house. Drinking water had to be filtered, and fruits and vegetables were to be soaked in iodine. Venera handed me a Nokia phone that Pactec provided for local use. We had day and night guards in the compound all the time.

On Saturday I started my work. I learned that the work week starts from Saturday, not Monday. I started working at cashbox. Venera was going to leave for vacation, and somebody had to be trained to do her job. Almost everything was not familiar: new faces, new names, new language, new currency, new workplace and new job. When my phone rang, I did not recognize it was mine because the ring tone was not familiar. To make one thing familiar, I set the Jingle Bell as a ringing tone on my phone.

During first week of work I was given permission to work only half days. I left the office at noon, and was riding with Oksana, the Korean girl, and she invited me to visit her barbershop in Karte Seh. She said I could walk to my house afterwards, as it was not far from where I lived. Oksana was a hairdresser, and had a customer for a haircut. I watched while she performed her art of hairdressing, and then she explained to me how to get to my house. I did not want to tell her that I was nervous to walk alone, but just hoped that I would recognize my house when I saw it. As a matter of fact, I did not remember the color of my gates. Here I was, on the streets of Kabul alone and really scared. A car stopped, and a man in the car started waving at me and saying words in Dari that I did not understand. I started walking fast, realizing that I was drawing a lot of attention, and the men on the street were staring at me. I knew that my house was somewhere around, but I did not know exactly which one, as they all looked similar. I felt trapped. The walls were too high, and there was no way I could see the houses behind the walls. Finally, I happily remembered that I had a phone, and could call someone for help. I dialed Venera’s phone number. Fortunately, she answered promptly. I told her I was lost. She was quick to respond, and said that she would call the guard to go out and look for me. What a relief and joy it was to see a face of someone who was familiar!

When I started to get familiar with my surroundings, I learned that it was not that scary to be out on the streets. Afghan people were mostly friendly and hospitable. I had to adjust to new sights, sounds, and tastes in this unique culture. I learned new ways of doing things, like remembering to wear a big scarf outside; wearing modest local attire that covers the whole body; saying greetings simultaneously in Dari, seeing armed people and convoys around, and using kerosene heaters. I had to change in the way I behaved also – avoid meeting men’s eyes in the street; not to shake hands with men; avoid sitting next to men in vehicles; greet women with multiple kisses, and try not to draw attention to myself. All of these comprised my journey of adjusting to the new culture. It was both an exciting and challenging experience that brought positive changes to my life and character.