Parce que Kabul est aussi belle….

Latest

Salaam Aleikoum !

Oui, welcome to this blog. There are many Blogs made in K.  since it looks like every expat in Kabul is running a blog. So nothing new here, no scoop but a great opportunity to share my Qabuli experience with family and friends. “En images”, bien sûr.  I won’t bother you with my daily life here, work stuff or home stuff… It will be all about my encounter with a city.
We hear so much about Qabul but it is just a city where people live, love, die.  It is the only project of this blog:  away from the headlines, away from the thrills, just the streets, the mountains and the people of Qabul.  They deserve it.
Hope you’ll enjoy the trip in my company then 🙂
Christophe

If you like what you see, you may also check my portfolios
www.christophelegris.com
www.clegris.com

The street girl and the cello

It sounds like a good title for another moving novel about Q.  But honestly, your neighbor is already a story.  Don’t ask about the driver, the guard, the guy selling you cay or bologni.  Don’t even ask your colleagues.  You arrive in Q with personal dramas and those people carry stories, trqgedies and even parts of history.  Not sure it does teach us humility.  Anyway, blah blah…

So it is a cello.  And she is a captivating girl of the street. Enrolled in the program of ANIM (Afghan National Institute of Music) where she started playing cello a couple of month ago. Yes, a couple of month ago.  And they are girls of the streets as well.  The more colorful, the poorer they say.  There is a lot of color in the clouds of dust around here.

Sur d’autres collines…

Like other legendary cities, Qabul is a city of hills.  Mountains if you think about the altitude.  Some rise in the middle of the city, next to the neighborhoods where we, expats, go out into our bars and cafes and restaurants.  But we even don’t step on those hills. A big mistake, a wrong fear because the view is stunning.  And the shadows of the people paying tribute to members of their family buried in the graveyard hooked to both sides of the hills flatter my romantic mood of the afternoon. Forget the soldiers who try to get some money out of you.  Play the ignorant foreigner – what I am – and it will go smoothly.  Like the light over Qabul.

Daru Alam, when the Kuchis are gone

Daru Alam without the Kuchis (the nomads) who took the road heading to Jalalabad where they’ll spend winter. I did not have time to give them the prints of the pictures I took earlier.  Maybe because it took me too much time before going back to the bombed palace.  We found there only the soldiers who watch the old stones and banned anyone from getting in.  Except if you are accompanied by a charming beautiful lady (merci Laila !).  Then, they offer you a tour.  And a cay, until it is very dark and you keep waiting for your car for hours, feeling suddenly very adventurous to take the charming lady for this walk among some wild dogs.  Always have stones in your pocket ready to throw, they say here.  Anyway, even if my stomach is not fitted for the cay from the hose, that was another great simple Qabuli experience.

La rue, parce que je l’aime…

Dans les collines…

La rue, la rue…

Kuchi #02 – Kids of Daru Alam

A young Kuchi begging outside the ruins of Daru Alam... It says it all

The kite (plastic-bag) runner

 

6 years ago, he stepped on a mine and lost his arms and his right leg.