Sylvia's Journal

One of Axel’s students, N, came to our house this morning. Axel had offered to help him with his application for an Academy (high school) in Massachusetts. It was an interesting education and cultural experience. For each question asked Axel asked N, “what are they asking? Why do they want to know that?”

We spent a lot of time on the question about what the prospective student had learned about diversity. As it turned out the whole concept was alien. Here in Afghanistan diversity is not the good thing it is supposed to be in the US. Diversity.. In N’s eyes, diversity has led to wars, discrimination, and violence. It is safer to be among your own people than risk all sorts of abuse when not. N is Hazara. They have learned from experience that being with ‘the other’ is risky and causes much unhappiness.

After some explanations of what was meant by the word diversity he eagerly explained to us that he was going to go to diversity, indicating that we had failed to get the concept across. Maybe for him it was something like a university, a place full of differences one goes to.

N. had to answer all sorts of questions that made no sense to him, like, “what is your father’s occupation?” Answer: shoes repairman. Axel had to explain that even though he repairs more than one shoe the occupation uses the singular. “What is the address of his business?” Answer: in the bazar of Lashkargar, near the so and so building, towards the end of the street. “Do your parents agree with your application” Answer, a puzzled look (N’s parents can’t read or write their own language, let alone English), they won’t even understand the question. “Do you have siblings who have gone to our Academy?” (huh?), “What are your academic interests” (huh?), etc. etc.

In the afternoon, after N had left with lots of homework including a 300 word handwritten essay about something important that had changed his life (like biking into an exploding shell that killed his brother and left him with damaged eye, pulled to safety by a reporter who got him to the US and then back to Kabul, a city he had never gone to. And now here he is, applying to a fancy high school in Massachusetts).

We made a brief sortie out of our house to get the ingredients for a Thai curry that we served to our friends from Turquoise Mountain, a nice break in the monotony of sitting at home, reading, knitting, embroidering and computering.