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Overheard on HMV's Escalator
Nov. 5th, 2006 05:09 pm"If you push me, I'll hit ya. And if you touch my tits, I'll kill ya."
Nov. 5th, 2006
From my Current Book Club Read
Nov. 5th, 2006 05:19 pmA western woman in the streets of Kabul attracts a lot of unwanted attention. Beneath the burka I could gaze around to my heart's content without being stared at in return. I could observe the other family members when we were out, without everyone's attention being directed at me. Anonymity became a release, the only place to which I could turn; in Kabul quiet places were in short supply.
I also wore the burka to discover for myself what it is like to be an Afghan woman; what it feels like to squash into the chock-a-block back rows reserved for women, when the rest of the bus is half empty, what it feels like to squeeze into the boot of a taxi because a man is occupying the back seat, what it feels like to be stared at as a tall and attractive burka and receive your first burka-compliment from a man in the street.
How in time I started to hate it. How it pinches the head and causes headaches, how difficult it is to see anything through the grille. How enclosed it is, how little air gets in, how quickly you start to perspire, how all the time you have to be aware of where you are walking because you cannot see your feet, what a lot of dirt it picks up, how dirty it is, how much in the way. How liberated you feel when you get home and can take it off.
- Asne Seierstad's The Bookseller of Kabul
I also wore the burka to discover for myself what it is like to be an Afghan woman; what it feels like to squash into the chock-a-block back rows reserved for women, when the rest of the bus is half empty, what it feels like to squeeze into the boot of a taxi because a man is occupying the back seat, what it feels like to be stared at as a tall and attractive burka and receive your first burka-compliment from a man in the street.
How in time I started to hate it. How it pinches the head and causes headaches, how difficult it is to see anything through the grille. How enclosed it is, how little air gets in, how quickly you start to perspire, how all the time you have to be aware of where you are walking because you cannot see your feet, what a lot of dirt it picks up, how dirty it is, how much in the way. How liberated you feel when you get home and can take it off.
- Asne Seierstad's The Bookseller of Kabul
Motherfawking Night
Nov. 5th, 2006 08:30 pm- There was a HUGE fireworks display right next door, at Victoria Park.
- It sounded like Americans decided to bomb the park and our apartment, plus the whole neighbourhood, got covered with smoke.
- The alarms of neighbourhood cars sprung to life.
- We are not at the park because Kevin is still sick.
- I can see amusement park attractions glowing above Victoria Park's trees. I want to go on the bumpy cars.
- I could hear a crowd in the park cheering once the fireworks ended.
- Mushroom clouds and sparkles are still bursting all over London. If today is going to be like yesterday, it won't stop until 11pm and, tomorrow morning, the city will rise with a thick powder smog.
