We are living with our Afghan partner Monireh's family -- her sister Madiya, brother Reza (who are both in the workshops and the shows we are doing -- theater runs in the family), and then her mother and father. It's a typical Afghan house with a tiny courtyard behind a tall gate along a dirt road in the midst of Jabraeil, a village community right outside the town of Herat.
The father is really funny, he’s quite the clown! Good humor abounds in this household. He has decided I’m his American daughter, his sixth daughter after Nahib, Monirah, Tahira, Halima and Madiya (or actually I would be the first, since I’m older). He’s having a good time playing with this. “Dokhtar-jan”! he calls out (“daughter, dear”). Come here, time for breakfast, time for tea, time for joking around. So I call him “baba-jan.” I had learned that “baba” is how you say daddy in Dari, and “jan” is a term of endearment you add after a name, like saying “dear.” I give him a hard time and he threatens me with the fly swatter, all in good fun. Last night we were having tea and fruit after dinner, and he starts singing to me, a lullaby about “dokhtar” and “baba.” That’s so sweet! Joanna and Michael are juggling the oranges and putting on a show. Impromptu we start making percussive sounds, the father drumming on his big belly. Lots of laughter together. These are the precious moments!
This is an Afghan man with a good heart. We hear so much about women being oppressed, forced marriages, abusive husbands, horrible men. But of course not all men are like this, there are good happy loving homes and families too in Afghanistan. This is one of them. I can see that Sayed Hassan loves and appreciates his wife, Fatima, very much. Yesterday in the afternoon, while we were enjoying tea time together, he leaned his head on her shoulders and looked at her with adoring eyes. Then he tweaked her nose. Ever the jokester. Even if it’s an easy-going and open-minded family, it’s still a traditional house-hold, since the father is adamant the women must wear the head scarf with Michael there; and the mother does the cleaning up, while the father takes a nap. But then when I jumped in to do the dishes after lunch, and Michael took it upon himself to clean up after dinner, the father sprang into action and had to show how it’s really done. I thought to myself, here’s a first! An Afghan man doing dishes! I bet he’s never done this ever before, but he was quite swift so he might have some experience after all. And actually he does do household chores, he helps with the laundry and they do the cooking together.
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Everyday baba-jan goes to the market to get the greens for the day’s cooking, and then sits and chops them all up to make, for example, “ku ku” – like a vegetable patty, or quiche but without the crust. And let’s not forget the “badan-jan” – eggplant with tomato fried in a lot of oil. I normally hate eggplant but this is really good! And thank goodness, because it’s served every other meal.
But the best is the “bulani,” which are like pierogis filled with cooked greens or potato, and making this is a whole family affair – madar-jan flattens the dough, baba-jan puts the filling on, and sister Monireh readies them for the cooking and fries them up on the stove. And then I eat them! Yum!
Badan-jan with nan
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