Despite violence, kite flying endures in Kabul
Posted: Monday, October 12, 2009 8:39 AM
Filed Under:
Kabul, Afghanistan
By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer
KABUL, Afghanistan – I hadn’t planned on writing about kites in Afghanistan; the subject just seemed too obvious after the runaway success of the novel, "The Kite Runner." But then a Western acquaintance who’d just moved to Kabul told me about an afternoon he spent shopping for colorful kites to decorate the walls of his new home, and it sounded like something I just had to do.
I’m no kite-flyer, but having lived through a couple of summers in Beijing, I’ve seen the Chinese-made stuff – brilliant, elaborate and intricate – and have grown to appreciate their design. So off I went to the Jadeh Maywand neighborhood in central Kabul, where kite shops line the sidewalks – dragging along my Afghan colleague, Iqbal Sapand.
 |
| Adrienne Mong / NBC News |
| A boy shops for new kite parts in Kabul. |
We had been tasked by our bureau chief, Sohel Uddin, to "buy the biggest kite possible." For weeks now, we’d see from our bureau rooftop kites flying high above our heads almost daily at sunset. Sohel was determined to try his hand.
Faced with a row of narrow, open-faced shop fronts crammed with string, spools, and of course kites, we poked our heads into one owned by Zalgai. The poker-faced 45-year-old, who goes by just one name, had caught our eye simply because he happened to be leaning on his counter. He welcomed us into his shop, beckoning to the raised carpeted area behind his counter, and Iqbal promptly sat down. On cue, a glass of simmering tea followed.
Zalgai’s family has owned this shop for 38 years (even through the Taliban years, when kite flying was banned and their business was forced underground). And like his grandfather and father, Zalgai was trained as a kite-maker. But five years ago he stopped producing kites to focus on selling them.
"I can make a lot more money this way," he said. Making kites takes too much time, he added, all that fussing with delicate paper and the bamboo frame. Moreover, the kites he carries in his shop bring him a brisk enough business.
Choosing the right one
Among the ones displayed prominently on the walls of his store, a striking black and white piece that celebrates Eid stood out. It was designed by Noor Agha, said to be Afghanistan’s best and most famous kite-maker; he was enlisted as a consultant for the filming of "The Kite Runner" movie in western China three years ago. Iqbal pointed out the artist’s signature in the top right corner of the kite, and in fact many of those in the shop bore his name.
 |
| Adrienne Mong / NBC News |
| A street lined with kite shops in the Afghan capital. |
But at $30, the kite seemed too expensive (and too pretty) for – what I was guessing – would be a bashing on the first go-round by our bureau chief. It also seemed quite high in a city where a family’s average monthly wage is between $70 and $100.
We asked Zalgai if he had anything that cost a little less.
He went burrowing into a room in the back of his shop, where I could see stacks of kites lying in the darkness. Minutes later, he re-emerged with a handful of options in printed color blocks of red, green, black, white, purple, and red – just as well-made as the fancier designs. They cost $3 each – a bargain for some Sunday afternoon fun.
The paper is tissue-thin and handmade, according to Zalgai, and comes from India, because Afghans stopped producing it years ago. And the nylon string in favor these days is made in Pakistan. But the wooden spools are still crafted here.
As we mulled over which kite to buy, customers came and went, approaching Zalgai’s counter. A handsome little boy with big round eyes stared at us while his father bought string. An elderly man eyed the spools hanging off the ceiling.
"Life here is much better since the Taliban left Kabul eight years ago," Zalgai said as he watched the brisk business. Moreover, the uptick in violence during the last several months in Kabul hasn’t affected his sales, he said. "My business seems more influenced by the seasons."
Flying a kite here, it would seem, is a tradition that endures no matter what – from being banned under the Taliban regime to the current violence.
 |
| Adrienne Mong / NBC News |
| On the left, a design from Afghanistan's best-known kitemaker, Noor Agha. |
A short flightBack at the bureau, Iqbal strung up our new kite and, with Sohel, promptly took it out for its maiden flight as the sun dropped and the wind picked up.
When I stepped out onto the rooftop to watch their progress, the new kite was no longer – its pink corner shredded from a close encounter with a nearby satellite dish – and Iqbal was trying to scotch-tape it back together. Shortly after, the pair returned indoors, breathless with their fingers bleeding from the cutting sharpness of the string.
"Well, we got it up pretty high," said Sohel. "But we lost it."
