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102 of 110 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Beauty in Conflict: The Kabul Beauty School, June 20, 2007
A work of non-fiction Deborah Rodriguez's book could almost be fictional. Only that it isn't. It's a story about determination, challenge, love and heartache. It is the story of an American woman who catapulted herself from Holland, Michigan to Kabul, Afghanistan.
A maverick by nature, Rodriguez came to Afghanistan in 2002, with an American non-governmental organization (NGO) trained in emergencies. Also gregarious by nature, Rodriguez very early on turned her attention to befriending Afghans who spoke some English. Her checkered background in multitasking and a rich personal life helped her in being sought after what was badly need in Kabul - hairdressing. With this, she developed a deep bond with Afghan women, who were just coming out of the tyranny of living under the Taliban. Their heart rending stories are told poignantly by Rodriguez, throughout the book.
I lived in Kabul for a month in 2004 and for four months in 2006. I also went o Rodriguez's beauty parlour, Oasis, in April 2006, with a friend. It took us forever to find it, as houses have no names or numbers in Kabul (security reasons). I called her four times on her cell phone to get to the right place. I waited while my friend got a haircut, was served tea, and got a chance to observe my surroundings. She had a presence and charisma that was hard to miss. Her energy was infectious. When Rodriguez took a cigarette break, she told us parts of her story, all in the book.
I first read about The Kabul Beauty School in an opinion piece posted in the Kabul Guide e-list I subscribe to, a few months ago. It talked about how some people that worked with Rodriguez in starting the Beauty School felt they did not get the credit they deserved in the book. And, that in the beginning of the book (enjoyable and shocking to me) is a piece about Rodriguez helping an Afghan bride fake her virginity on her wedding night by providing her with a blood stained handkerchief. Shouldn't this be the mother's role, questioned the author of the article? I smiled as I read this.
There were so many roles for women (just as there are for men) in Afghanistan that it could get tiring. But, there are more expectations and restrictions when it comes to women. In most traditional societies in transition to modernity, these roles are shifting. Yet, both Afghans and non Afghans have a hard time with this. What to cling to, what to let go? What to support, what to oppose?
However, Rodriguez had little patience with all this questioning. With a fierce determination she dealt with men and women, ministries, bureaucracies, hoodlums, louts, children and older people. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and was not afraid to show her emotions - be it anger, frustration, love or appreciation. She was certainly not a coward.
She did some pretty unconventional things. Most of all, she married an Afghan, and became his second wife. The first wife, with her seven children, lived in Saudi Arabia. He supported her in many things and said no when he couldn't help her. While Rodriguez did a lot to blend in, she also held on dearly to what she believed in, from her background and upbringing.
Rodriguez weaves the book around her own story and those of the women she comes across in Afghanistan. Choosing to focus on setting up a beauty school, she opted to work with women most of the time. She loved them, got cross with them, and yelled at them. She cried with them, danced with them and got involved in their most intimate stories - from violence to sex.
Raised in a country where life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are guaranteed in the constitution, Rodriguez was often outraged about what she discovered and experienced in Afghanistan. This is understandable. But, slowly she learned and adapted, often at a high cost to herself and others around her. However, that is the nature of life and work as an expatriate in Afghanistan or any other post conflict country. I myself made some mistakes in dealing with the Afghans I worked and interacted with. I too experienced all the emotions Rodriguez did.
Rodriguez ends her book in May 2006, just after riots and curfews in Kabul. I was in Kabul at that time. The women who have studied and graduated from her beauty school have gone their various paths - some to new lives and others back to the old ones (but as changed and economically independent persons, with a skill). Rodriguez's experience in Afghanistan transformed her life and the women around her. Her book is deeply personal and gives a pretty accurate picture of what goes on in today's Afghanistan.
There are whisperings (quietly and openly) that Rodriguez has betrayed and endangered the women of the beauty school - that they could be targeted by conservative elements. Also, about her going back on her promises of getting them out of the country to safe and greener pastures. And, was she going to share the profits of her book with the women whose stories she told?
Above the whispering and questioning, the truth is that the reality of Afghan woman can be changed by themselves -with some help from the Debbie Rodriguez' of the world. Just like development aid and expatriate technical assistance and expertise, it is only a helping hand to the Afghans. And, all this will take time. Decades of oppression from inside and outside Afghanistan, have left a deep impression on Afghan women and men, in separate ways. They suffered collectively and differently, each to their own, in their own way. I too, heard many of these stories. A great need in Afghanistan today is individual and collective healing. Rodriguez realised this and tried to do something about, in the way she knew best.
Rodriguez offered freedom and friendship, within the confines of Afghan society. More than that she could not do, and no outsider can. The book rings true, reads well, and is highly descriptive of a country and people Rodriguez was privileged to be part of. And, that, no one can take away from her. Just like no one can take away from the Afghan women what they got from Rodriquez.
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38 of 40 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
Yes... and ultimately No, June 28, 2008
This review is from: Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil (Paperback)
When I started reading this book, I was surprised to learn that the author is from my hometown in Michigan (I moved cross-country two decades ago, but still visit once a year). So, from the get-go I was extra curious about Debbie's story. At first glance, I thought the book was fascinating, and I admired the author's tenacity and heart. I didn't mind her writing style (I thought that was part of the charm), and I gave her ditzy personality a lot of latitude because I figured, at the end of the day, her efforts were having a positive impact. Naively, I assumed that Debbie had the Kabul women's best interests at heart... even though she chose to reveal "secrets" and privileged information about her beauty school students and peers. But, post-book, as I've learned more about the story (with a good bit of googling), my curiosity and fascination with the book has been replaced by sadness and disappointment. A recent (June 2008) article in the Chicago Tribune tells how the story has unfolded, or unraveled, since the book's been published... and it ain't pretty. Since she's a hometown girl, I still want to believe that Debbie's intentions have always been above board... but, either way, it's had a devastating impact on the women left behind in Kabul. Debbie's gotten some degree of glory, but her Kabul "sisters" are paying the price, and having to do it all by themselves. Very, very sad.
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38 of 42 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Kabul is really like this...sort of, June 7, 2008
This review is from: Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil (Paperback)
My mother eagerly sent this book to me (yes here in Afghanistan) because she knows how much my heart bleeds for people (read: women) who do not relish in the wonderful things we westerners take for granted.
At times, I applauded Debbie for taking a stand, and never in a million years would I critize her for leaving, because the folks who are the heaviest criticizers have NO concept of bombings, kidnappings, beheadings, and the like. It is truly one of the most horrifying things I have dealt with.
Now...Kabul...I am going to attempt to describe this large city in layman's terms so the average person can understand where I am coming from. I apologize for any hurt feelings or protests, but unless you can meet me downtown Kabul tonight for tea, please take this for what it is: a description of someone who is there.
Yes, some women still wear Burqas (chadris), but while I detest the things more than I can describe, many women still wear them to protect themselves from stares, fondling, cat calls, etc. This is not to say no woman is exempt from these things, but many prefer to wear it, much to their chagrin, because women by themselves are truthfully considered "whores" by many and thus "deserving" of being fondled and hollered at. One of the things I had to get used to as a western woman (obviously, I am rich and a prostitute because I'm not married..."obviously") is the CONSTANT gaping by young men. Truckloads of young men will physically hang out their entire bodies to gawk at a western woman. Shuras won't look at me, though (usually). I have gotten my hand shaken, however, which was considered a huge step up by many in my circle.
For those who wear it, the preferred chadri/burqa is a lovely shade of periwinkle, if only because white is nearly impossible to clean in a country that does not have running water, reliable electricity (only government offices and hospitals are required to maintain electricity; most homes only have the equivalent of a 40-watt light bulb in terms of lights...please note I said MOST), and proper (western) sanitation. You cannot stereoptype Afghans (NOT "Afghanis" like so many people have called them in these reviews) because like any other country, they are not all the same. Kabul is arguably the most "progressed" city, but there are other smaller provinces that boast more progress than Kabul, but I'll concentrate today on the capital. Kabul is a filthy city by western standards. I have lived all over the world (southwest Asia, the middle east, Europe, 12 states, etc.), and my passport is nearly filled with stamps. The nicest parts of Kabul, at least the public areas, are as nasty as the bad parts of big U.S. cities (this is a comparison so people who have never been outside the U.S. can understand...I'm sorry if I offend anybody. It's not my intent.) There is trash, feces, and dead animals along the pocked roads, but the roads are greatly improved since the Taliban was "thrown out." The Taliban is still present, and not a lot of Afghans approve of them in the least, but in some cases, it's like a pesty fly they just swat and and choose largely to ignore (for various reasons, including but not limited to, protecting their families, which is paramount.) In no other country have I ever seen such love for one's family, no matter how far apart the "cousins" are. It's truly heartwarming but can also be a downfall, like the author discusses in some cases.
However, amongst the sea of chadris are also the women who proudly wear high heels with their polished toes and glittering gold bracelets through the dirty streets, but I have never seen an Afghan woman in public without at least a head scarf. There are women in schools, colleges, and those who proudly work, and there is much reformation in parts of the cities. There are men who strongly encourage their daughters to become more educated, but just like any other family, there are some fathers who do not let their daughters do anything beyond their destiny, which is to get married and have sons. Like so many countries that take the Koran literally, the belief males are the dominant gender is held fast.
Every day is Market Day it seems, with thousands of people crowding the narrow streets filled with produce (tangerines are huge here...who knew?), Coca Cola by the liter (doesn't taste the same), nuts, carcasses of dead animals for sale with the head sitting in the middle of the shop to prove what kind of animal it is, children playing, people sitting around listening to the radio (still the most frequent way people get their news), carts pushed by men or donkeys, an occassional horseback rider who narrowly misses the old Opal cars on the side of the road, the useless traffic circle with everybody going whichever way he/she chooses, etc. etc. On Fridays, traditional Afghan music is blared throughout the markets while people noisily chat to one another. Mixed in with the robes and chadris is occassionally a child wearing a Mickey Mouse sweater and Nikes. It is a beautiful place, a dangerous place, and that brings me to my final point before I ramble too much.
I only gave this book 3 stars because, while I understood everything she discussed, I was alarmed about how blase Debbie was about certain cultures...she honestly at times came across as The Ugly American. I wanted to like her, and I loved what she did, but I cannot comprehend why she thought it was okay (spoiler) to put her friend in danger in the market. Nobody is as indignant about being touched by strangers as I, but she did not think about how her actions could have put her friend in danger, or in the very least, embarrassed her. Embarrassment in the U.S. is easily overcome; in this part of the world, you rarely get second chances (Debbie was alloted many because she is a "heathen" American). Why after so long she didn't understand that, or chose to, baffles me.
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