Can you tell us how you became a writer?I’ve been keeping a journal since I was very young. It helped me keep track of my thoughts, but also got me into the habit of writing on a regular basis. I love reading – books have been my best friends throughout my life. In addition, I think it’s the desire to want to share one’s thoughts with others. I grew up in a country where oral tradition has strong roots. Telling stories was part of my upbringing and so I learned that the best writing was telling stories. For me, writing has become a necessity, something that I look forward to, as I look forward to meeting a dear friend or enjoying a gathering.
What inspired you to write this memoir?
Stories of those who couldn’t tell them, those who were lost in oblivion, the nuances of a complicated society that was reduced to a few superficial images by the media, but the source of my inspiration was the resilience of Afghan woman who struggle day by day to survive. Upon my return to Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban, I discovered a country brutally destroyed, betrayed and in pain. So much of its past was discounted in the face of a western victory as the political powers played their games. However, despite all the devastation, the spirit of the people remained strong and free. Thousands of miles away from Afghanistan, among the audiences in Europe and in North America, I was inspired by women and men who came with questions, wanting to know more, to know the real Afghanistan.
I wanted to show my appreciation for all the opportunities that I’d been offered in Canada, and my gratitude towards a culture that shaped my existence, mentality and my way of life, by writing a book which would show the side of Afghanistan hardly talked about. If by any chance it became like a bridge, bringing the two worlds closer, then I’d be most satisfied.
Are there any tips you would give a book club to better navigate their discussion of your book?
See the book as an impressionist drawing — there is a tree trunk, which is the story of an Afghan girl growing up in Kabul, becoming a Canadian journalist. But there are numerous branches, leaves and perhaps a few blossoms that are dressing this tree. They are inseparable from each other. Don’t always look for conclusions to the stories hanging from the tree. We are often conditioned in the West to think of everything with a conclusion, preferably with a happy one. But real life doesn’t always grant us one. Real life is a continuous series of untold stories, amalgam of names, events and characters that we may only meet once, but they are worth acknowledging because together they create history.
Look at the book as a plea — a journey into one’s own self and the past — where the author is seeking personal reconciliation, historical reconciliation and an inner peace, if you like. War affects us in many ways — the invisible scars are more hurtful than the wounds that can be seen. There are more questions than answers. There is fear and even an unconscious hatred in the child’s asking “why”. The adult in her has to dig deep to face the hatred, to deal with it, to continue asking questions and struggle to shape something in the form of answers. We all have those unconscious feelings, those questions, hanging around somewhere, whether it’s as a result of our experiences of war or violence, history or other events in life. Think of the author’s journey to Russia as an attempt to help heal that old wound, a circle that brings her back to the question “why” she’d asked as a child.
Do you have a favourite story to tell about being interviewed for your book?
There was a radio show in Montreal for which I was being interviewed by this very soft-spoken, kind-faced man. The entire interview was one single question — tell the story of the wolves (the night that my father had spend in a bus, fearful of wolves baying nearby). This reporter was the only person who’d ever asked a question about the wolf story in the book. His interest was based partly on the connection/history of his own native ancestry. I was so pleased that day…. After all, the metaphor was not lost.
When I was on my book tour in the States, a veteran of radio reporting, an elderly, silver-haired man, who laughed with a youthful heart, told me that after reading my book he was very jealous that my family had settled in Canada and not in the U.S. He wanted me to have been an American-Afghan. I felt proud to be a Canadian even as I was being envied by an American — I guess that’s what some of us ultimately want — but it also reminded me of how geographical lines continue to persist. Nonetheless, I was happy that he’d come to appreciate my book so much that he wanted me to have what he considered as the best thing — his country.
What question are you never asked in interviews but wish you were?
There are probably a few questions — some general and philosophical, some more socio-historical. One question is: how and why did religion become a tool of oppression in a country like Afghanistan which has been more tribal than religious in its history? The importance of history — personal as well as political — why does it/should it matter?
Has a review or profile ever changed your perspective on your work?
Whenever I read a review or profile, I’m always humbled by it, regardless of its views.
One reviewer, who praised my book and writing style, even calling it “graceful,” concluded that the book was not a “great read” because it had too many details, too many names to keep track of. It made me realize that if Afghanistan’s history came across as hard to take, confusing and demanding in the pages of a book as simply told as mine, then imagine living through it. The speed with which the political climate changed, the number of presidents, ministers and other officials that changed would leave any sane person confused. But Afghans have been living through it. It was great because I had managed to make a point, without actually saying it.
But it also brought a doubt to the surface: could I have told this story differently? I reflected for days and arrived at the conclusion that I chose to write this story the way I did because I wanted people to get a taste of what it was like to actually live in a place and time like that. I had remained true to the story, to my knowledge of that past, and resisted the need to simplify it for the benefit of a westerner who may have a hard time keeping track of a few names. The country and the people in the pages of my book deserve the complexity, contradictions and confusions they have experienced in real life. Ultimately, they deserve that honesty and truth just as each person in my book (be it family or neighbour, or a fellow Afghan) deserves an acknowledgement. I’d rather leave a few confused readers behind than let real people in my life become nameless characters — like all the victims of wars and atrocities that are recognized as numbers, without identity. And the western reader needs to know these details if the aim is to bring them closer to the reality. Until I had this review, I hadn’t thought enough about this point. But that review helped erase my doubts about why I had included all the names and details and why it mattered that I not leave them out — even if it would have made for a smoother, easier read. I have never met the reviewer, but I owe her a thank you for this. Sometimes we need a critical comment to help us analyze and understand certain impulses better. Hers did that for me.
I used to dislike the way the story had been shaped, hated reading my book — partially because it was too painful to think about all those people and events over and over. But after her comment, I began to value the pages differently. All the names that she considered confusing were more precious to me than ever before. They had caused something — a critical comment. I was pleased with that. It was Henry VIII who told Thomas More in A Man for all Seasons that "we artists, though we love praise, yet we love truth better.”
Which authors have been most influential to your own writing?
Alan Moorehead — the author of Eclipse.
Antony Beevor — whose historical research and writings on the Second World War are among the best I have read on the subject.
Fatema Mernissi — a Moroccan sociologist whose work is inspiring.
Margaret Atwood — Cat’s Eye was the first English novel that I read. Though I had to work through a dictionary all the way, I felt the world changed colour when I finished that book.
A number of Persian and Pushto writers/poets, both classical and modern, have had their own influences, either on my thought process or style of writing. Also several English classical writers/poets have been inspiring and influential. Matthew Arnold is one.
Besides writing, what are some of your other passions in life?
Reading, of course. Films. The power of words and images combined creates a magic that’s unparalleled. Poetry and music. And I very much enjoy cooking.
If you could have written one book in history, what book would that be?
I think this question is a little unfair. How could I settle for writing just one book in history — or the one that I’d be remembered by or want to be remembered by — when I want to write several. But if I were to be somewhat flippant and take a wild guess, I’d say a book about food/cooking — how it can help us understand the world and its multitudes of intricacies through tastes, ingredients, habits and pleasures. I think kitchens are the most important places in our homes, and food is one of those often ignored or simplified elements that can help us understand a thing or two about ourselves and the physical world around us.