Gifts from the "Poor"

Natalie and I went to a friend's house for dinner last night. It took about 30 minutes to get there, and quite a while on muddy, potholed roads. We parked in front of a rickety metal door, which was set into a mud wall. We were greeted by younger brothers, maybe 8 to 12 years old, and ushered inside. As always, we removed our shoes at the front door, and continued the greetings for each sibling, friend, and family member present. Usually, you ask how the person is, how their health is, how life is, and how the family is; it can take 15 minutes just to say "hello" to everyone. This is revealing of the relational side to Afghans. We sat on toshaks, which are basically large pillows laid on the floor around the edges of a room, and waited for the main course. In the meantime, we made small talk, as much as possible in the bits and pieces of Dari we know. They served us nuts and drinks and brought in a small oil lamp to provide lighting.

The main course was brought in and placed before me and Natalie. We waited for others to be served, only to find out that everyone had already eaten with an aunt who had come a few hours before us. It was a little awkward to be the only ones eating the main course, but we had no choice but to dig in. As we began to eat, we learned everyone's name, how old some of them are, and what they do. The oldest brother has just finished a degree in Science from a local university, which is quite an accomplishment for a lower class family in a culture with a high illiteracy rate. We enjoyed the mantou, meat dumplings smothered in a yoghurt sauce and eaten with bread. Then we wrapped up the meal with tangerines and a sticky substance made from walnuts, similar to peanut butter but quite bitter.

I've often spoken with my American friends of the hospitality I've received abroad, mainly from Thailand, Morocco, and India, but due to the constraints of American media and lack of experience, I typically receive a critical eye. Here I've found yet another example. A family I would consider "poor" by western standards opened their home to us, stuffed us with delicious food, and even showered us with gifts. We haven't done anything in particular for this family, but they wanted to do something nice for us. Natalie received a nice (and interesting) pair of shoes, a bracelet, and a hair beret, and I received an embroidered, white handkerchief. Not much in our world of "stuff" back in America, but these things are symbolic for something far deeper--that "things" are nothing compared to friendship. The "poor" here seem to understand better than me that all these material things will rot away one day. It makes one ponder where their treasure is.

Beyond our wonderful evening with these friends, we see daily acts of kindness and hospitality. After visiting guests, they often place your shoes on the doormat facing out, making it easier for you to put your shoes on and head down the road. They almost always make you go first through a door, and won't have you letting them go first. And as in the case of this family, they thanked God for the food and for their guests at the end of the meal. Sometimes my view of "poor" is wrong and miscalculated. This family may not have much in material terms, but their hearts are filled--with friendship, kindness, and laughter. Certainly, cold winters are difficult for them, and I'm sure food isn't always that easy to come by, but they find ways to be happy. I'm glad they shared their happiness with me.