It's New Year's Day 2006 in Showay, a little east of Khost and near the Pakistan border. The sun dictates when we sleep and wake, so I missed the turn of the new year. We wake at seven, and by nine I'm talking with the teachers of Nomaan madrassa (or religious seminary).
Gul Rahman, Hashem and Abdulrahman teach religious subjects, history and Pashto language to the 250-odd students that attend. The madrassa is one of only two in the area (around 31,000 families live in this area); each of the two main tribes has a school. Classes are between 8 and 11.30. It isn't unusual for a student to walk at least an hour from home to reach the school. Even once there, as the teachers told me, problems abound. Teachers are unpaid, and the school was constructed by the families themselves. UNICEF books and materials were distributed all over the country, but never reached this area. The classrooms are bitterly cold, and there are no carpets for the students to sit on. When I was there, the classes were being conducted outside, in the bitter morning cold. This apparent lack of interest shown by NGOs and donors (on account of security concerns, I'm assuming) was to be seen wherever I went in the area.
Kuchi are the nomadic tribes of Afghanistan. In Dari (one of the two national languages of Afghanistan, closely related to Farsi/Persian) the word kuchi means nomad, or person-who-moves. Estimates of their numbers are at best estimates, and fiercely disputed. The electoral board - who surveyed the country for the purposes of the elections last year - reckon some 2.5 million are Kuchi, while the tribal leaders themselves claim 6 million in total. The nature of Kuchis makes it difficult to pin down. At any rate, they're all over the country, and mainly of Pashtun descent. In Khost province, most people don't even speak Dari, just a dialect of Pashtu that I could barely understand; quite different from that of Kandahar.
They form a unique group, reflected in the special procedures allocated to them for the elections. Nomadism, though, is on the way out, relatively speaking. Increasingly, kuchi people are settling, usually on the outskirts of cities (as observed in Kabul and Kandahar). Their cattle flocks have been decimated by drought and landmines. Also a desire to educate their families now is a frequent comment: Kuchis wish to remedy their lack of representation in parliament as well as to turn around a tendency towards illiteracy. Thus Kuchis are buying houses near and in the city, in the hope that this will allow their children to attend school.
Kuchis are also famous for their dogs, large fearless cross-breeds for the most part. Other small customs distinguish them. Take tea, for instance. Afghans generally drink green or black tea, depending on which area of the country you're from. In the south it's green tea, in the north black tea. But in the eastern kuchi tribes they even have black tea with milk too. For breakfast, it's normal to drink one cup of milk tea, followed by several cups of black tea. In the evening after dinner, a kuchi might drink green, black and milk tea.
The two schools that I saw serve for around 31,000 families. The second school was better organised than the first, with a printed timetable, as well as longer hours. Still, though, Islamia School - 300 students and 6 teachers - was built with funds collected from the families themselves. Classes are mostly religious, but teaching Farsi and Sa'adi's Golestan for example. When I visited, one class was sitting outside the classroom in the freezing cold (it soon after began to snow) as the floor of their classroom wasn't ready yet.
I heard several complaints wherever I visited: that there weren't health clinics (if someone becomes sick, they must travel 2 hours on a bumpy dirt-track to Khost itself, passing through tribal areas hostile to them); that there was no provision for education outside the non-religious (certainly nothing for girls); that the microfinance investment schemes found in other provinces hadn't arrived in this area; that there was little water (and when there are wells they are far from the people, necessitating long journeys for the women, who traditionally get the water); that NGOs weren't helping or coming to visit the area; that there's no power/electricity (some families have invested in solar power, but of course this is dependent on the weather); that there is high unemployment - people are forced to selling the stones and wood of the hillside to make money; that the teachers at the schools have little experience and that the education children receive is of poor quality; that the promises of help from Khost's governor haven't come to pass; that aid meant for the Kuchi people is often 'retained' in Khost by tribes hostile to them.
I also met with several families (although I heard of many more) who had previously been living in Pakistan but who had all been forced back into Afghanistan; their houses were bulldozed and they were evicted across the border. Is this how Pakistan solves its refugee issues?
Security in the east of Afghanistan is a major problem, though, preventing the intervention of NGOs. Despite promises of security that Kuchi tribes could offer to NGOs working in the area, it is difficult to see how this would work in practice. Generally speaking, international organisations are loath to target specific ethnic groups with aid. Every single person and NGO I talked to before my departure told me not to go, that security was among the worst in the country there, and that it was unwise to travel there, certainly by car, as I planned. At any rate, thankfully nothing happened to me, and I returned in one piece (despite some 'problems' along the way); I felt very exposed and unsafe throughout my travels in the east, however, a feeling that I never had in Kandahar or while travelling down the main roads between Herat and Kabul. Nobody can hear you scream in space, as the slogan for the film Alien goes; by the same token, no one will hear you scream in eastern Afghanistan.
As far as a vision of this Kuchi area in the future goes, I'd like to be positive, but fear that conditions will stay largely the same: the people will continue their desperate struggle to better their situation; international NGOs will largely stay away from the area out of fear; perhaps a few more schools will be built, as well as hopefully a few more wells and water pumps. In Showay hopes looks set to remain just that. Hopes.
Gul Rahman, Hashem and Abdulrahman teach religious subjects, history and Pashto language to the 250-odd students that attend. The madrassa is one of only two in the area (around 31,000 families live in this area); each of the two main tribes has a school. Classes are between 8 and 11.30. It isn't unusual for a student to walk at least an hour from home to reach the school. Even once there, as the teachers told me, problems abound. Teachers are unpaid, and the school was constructed by the families themselves. UNICEF books and materials were distributed all over the country, but never reached this area. The classrooms are bitterly cold, and there are no carpets for the students to sit on. When I was there, the classes were being conducted outside, in the bitter morning cold. This apparent lack of interest shown by NGOs and donors (on account of security concerns, I'm assuming) was to be seen wherever I went in the area.
Kuchi are the nomadic tribes of Afghanistan. In Dari (one of the two national languages of Afghanistan, closely related to Farsi/Persian) the word kuchi means nomad, or person-who-moves. Estimates of their numbers are at best estimates, and fiercely disputed. The electoral board - who surveyed the country for the purposes of the elections last year - reckon some 2.5 million are Kuchi, while the tribal leaders themselves claim 6 million in total. The nature of Kuchis makes it difficult to pin down. At any rate, they're all over the country, and mainly of Pashtun descent. In Khost province, most people don't even speak Dari, just a dialect of Pashtu that I could barely understand; quite different from that of Kandahar.
They form a unique group, reflected in the special procedures allocated to them for the elections. Nomadism, though, is on the way out, relatively speaking. Increasingly, kuchi people are settling, usually on the outskirts of cities (as observed in Kabul and Kandahar). Their cattle flocks have been decimated by drought and landmines. Also a desire to educate their families now is a frequent comment: Kuchis wish to remedy their lack of representation in parliament as well as to turn around a tendency towards illiteracy. Thus Kuchis are buying houses near and in the city, in the hope that this will allow their children to attend school.
Kuchis are also famous for their dogs, large fearless cross-breeds for the most part. Other small customs distinguish them. Take tea, for instance. Afghans generally drink green or black tea, depending on which area of the country you're from. In the south it's green tea, in the north black tea. But in the eastern kuchi tribes they even have black tea with milk too. For breakfast, it's normal to drink one cup of milk tea, followed by several cups of black tea. In the evening after dinner, a kuchi might drink green, black and milk tea.
The two schools that I saw serve for around 31,000 families. The second school was better organised than the first, with a printed timetable, as well as longer hours. Still, though, Islamia School - 300 students and 6 teachers - was built with funds collected from the families themselves. Classes are mostly religious, but teaching Farsi and Sa'adi's Golestan for example. When I visited, one class was sitting outside the classroom in the freezing cold (it soon after began to snow) as the floor of their classroom wasn't ready yet.
I heard several complaints wherever I visited: that there weren't health clinics (if someone becomes sick, they must travel 2 hours on a bumpy dirt-track to Khost itself, passing through tribal areas hostile to them); that there was no provision for education outside the non-religious (certainly nothing for girls); that the microfinance investment schemes found in other provinces hadn't arrived in this area; that there was little water (and when there are wells they are far from the people, necessitating long journeys for the women, who traditionally get the water); that NGOs weren't helping or coming to visit the area; that there's no power/electricity (some families have invested in solar power, but of course this is dependent on the weather); that there is high unemployment - people are forced to selling the stones and wood of the hillside to make money; that the teachers at the schools have little experience and that the education children receive is of poor quality; that the promises of help from Khost's governor haven't come to pass; that aid meant for the Kuchi people is often 'retained' in Khost by tribes hostile to them.
I also met with several families (although I heard of many more) who had previously been living in Pakistan but who had all been forced back into Afghanistan; their houses were bulldozed and they were evicted across the border. Is this how Pakistan solves its refugee issues?
Security in the east of Afghanistan is a major problem, though, preventing the intervention of NGOs. Despite promises of security that Kuchi tribes could offer to NGOs working in the area, it is difficult to see how this would work in practice. Generally speaking, international organisations are loath to target specific ethnic groups with aid. Every single person and NGO I talked to before my departure told me not to go, that security was among the worst in the country there, and that it was unwise to travel there, certainly by car, as I planned. At any rate, thankfully nothing happened to me, and I returned in one piece (despite some 'problems' along the way); I felt very exposed and unsafe throughout my travels in the east, however, a feeling that I never had in Kandahar or while travelling down the main roads between Herat and Kabul. Nobody can hear you scream in space, as the slogan for the film Alien goes; by the same token, no one will hear you scream in eastern Afghanistan.
As far as a vision of this Kuchi area in the future goes, I'd like to be positive, but fear that conditions will stay largely the same: the people will continue their desperate struggle to better their situation; international NGOs will largely stay away from the area out of fear; perhaps a few more schools will be built, as well as hopefully a few more wells and water pumps. In Showay hopes looks set to remain just that. Hopes.
posted by Alex Strick at 1:48 PM
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