109. My Superheros

In Afghanistan, it's very common to hire people to help with daily activities such as gardening, cooking, cleaning, laundry, driving, and protecting your home.  When I first moved to Afghanistan and rented a massive 7 bedroom home in what was once the ritziest neighborhood in Kabul, Wazir Akbar Khan, I quickly realized I was not going to be able to maintain it on my own.  As someone who grew up in America, I struggled with the idea of hiring help.  It just was not something that we did in the US and to many of us it was something we just never felt comfortable with.  Two decades ago, before apps like Handy made it common place to hire someone to help you clean your home, only the Uber-rich hired people to help keep their homes running in order. 

 

My original staff in 2002
Me, The Fixer - Ahmad, the Aashpaz (cook) - Kaka Safi, the Safaa Kar (cleaner) - SahibDaad, the Driver - Nabil

Khala #1

So that first year, despite my reservations, I hired an Aashpaz (cook), a Baghban (gardener), a Safaa Kaar (cleaner/laundry lady) - endearingly called Khala (aunty), a couple of Drivers and a Chawkidaar (watchman). I was astonished at how little they were expected to be paid and that I was actually paying them higher than the "market standard" at $50-100 per month.  Some of them like my Baghban and Khala had been doing these jobs for years and were considered "professionals".  Others, like my drivers and Chawkidaars were just people who needed a source of income - any job would do.  

My Chawkidaar (Watchman) - Mir Abbas

After the first week, and for many years after, I quickly learned that you get what you pay for.  I would often catch my chawkidaar dozing off when he should have been keeping watch, my drivers driving my cars for their own leisure with family and friends and then making me pay for the fuel, my safaa kaar drying dishes with the same cloth he wiped down the bathroom with, and my cook taking enough grocery money from me to make a feast fit for a queen and then serving me eggplant and bread only. I spent more time trying to mentor and teach them how to do their jobs right and explaining to them what my expectations of them were, then I even want to admit.  There was no loyalty or commitment.  After spending weeks and months training one of them, as soon as another Khareji (foreigner) offered to pay them $5 more, they would quit without a notice and move on to their new employer. And the cycle would start all over for me. 

Driver Haseeb

I have come home unexpectedly and found strangers/their family and neighbors they smuggled in taking showers in my bathroom, I have caught them peeking through open windows when they shouldn't have, I have explained to them over and over the concept of time and how important it is, I have replaced countless electric appliances they have broken and I have broken up brawls between my chawkidaars who were fighting over my married khala.  Katrin and I watched this brawl and thought to ourselves, we can’t even find one man and our khala has 3 of them fighting over her.  But as much as they drove me to the brink of insanity, they became my family.  Because I treated them with dignity and respect and included them in all of my work, they in turn cared for me and made sure I never felt like I was alone. I spent countless hours just talking to them and learning about their life stories.  They told me about their kids, their homes, their villages, their hopes, their sorrows and their pain.  I have funded more weddings, built more homes, and paid for enough medical treatments to support a village.  And I loved every bit of it.  I would make sure to give them turns to go with me on my day trips outside of Kabul so they could experience and see different parts of their country that they would never have been able to.  They endeared themselves to me and to all my friends, colleagues and guests who stayed with me.  

My forever Khala

I came to care for all of them dearly, but my very last Khala who was with me until my last day in Kabul, was very special to me.  She was all of 4 ft 8 in tall but she had more strength and courage and power than anyone I knew. She was the sole breadwinner in her family.  She traveled every morning across town to make sure when I woke up, my home was clean, warm and comfortable.  She washed my clothes, bought my groceries, cooked my food, cleaned my home, wiped away the mess when my bukhari would explode, killed bugs and bats that made their way into my home, protected me from strangers knocking on my door, held my hand when I was scared of the bombs and explosions, took care of me when I was sick, held me while I cried when I missed my mom, and never ever questioned my lifestyle, my choices, or my decisions.  Her entire goal in life from the moment she woke up until she went to sleep was to make sure I was taken care of and happy.  If I got short with her, she never held a grudge or talked back to me. She was the poorest person I knew but she never asked me for money and when I would give her some extra or give her my clothes or household items, she would refuse until I forced her to take it.  She was literally my superhero.  She fought every obstacle life threw at her with so much grace. The day I left Afghanistan, she packed my bags for me and stood in front of my door until she could no longer see me.  She was the only one there that dreadful day.  I have kept in touch with her since I have left Afghanistan. I check on her frequently and support her financially now that she is unable to work.  I have made sure that she knows that until the day we are both alive that I will take care of her. Although we are thousands of miles away from each other, she is still a big part of my life.