Here’s a funny story. People often send product donations to the Kabul Beauty School, and I dutifully open every box and distribute the contents. Sometimes the donations are salon products. Those are always welcome, because we run through that stuff quickly—it’s not even easy to replenish our stock of good shampoo here. Sometimes the donations are intended for the girls themselves. We’ve gotten handbags, bolts of fabric, and knitted scarves, and the girls have appreciated all these gifts. But one day I let Laila open one of the boxes, and she carried it over to me with a perplexed look on her face.
“What are these things?” she asked as my other girls gathered around.
So I looked inside the box and saw—thongs! Lacy thongs, leather thongs, satin thongs, thongs with embroidered flowers. I bent over the box and laughed for a few minutes before trying to answer. “Knickers,” I finally said. “What ladies wear under their clothes.”
Laila translated for the others, and they all frowned. “No, Debbie,” Baseera said. “These can’t be knickers.”
“Yes, some women like to wear these. They think they look sexy.”
Topekai picked up a pair of the thongs and dangled them in the air. “They don’t cover anything.”
“That’s kind of the point. There’s a little coverage in front, but the back is thin like this so you don’t have panty lines under your clothes.”
“This part goes between—?” Mina patted her bottom, and I nodded.
They hooted about those thongs for weeks. They threw them at one another and occasionally pulled them over their heads when they were feeling really silly. I think the housekeeper finally threw them in the fire. Now, that’s an example of a wrongheaded attempt to help Afghan women.
But not too long ago I went with a group of friends to Istalif, the village in the mountains where they make the beautiful turquoiseglazed porcelain. We wandered around looking at mugs and platters and pitchers, and each of us bought a few things from the merchants who sit in the sun and wait for visitors. We stopped at one of the old warlord palaces nearby and visited a greenhouse full of geraniums where the gardener posed for a photograph between a huge poster of Ahmed Shah Massoud and a red heart that had been painted on the wall. We wandered near a spring that Sam claimed had healing properties, and he scooped up a jug of its water to take home.
As we were driving back down the mountain, we passed a long line of children who were marching down the muddy road toward a soccer game in one of the cleared fields. All the children were wearing brand-new rubber boots in different bright colors. One child had purple boots, another had red ones, another green, another yellow, another orange, and so on, turning the mountain road into a rainbow of children’s feet. I knew that somewhere in the world well-meaning people had collected those boots and sent them off to Afghanistan. Those people knew that there had to be children here who could put those boots to good use. Maybe they even knew that the children would stomp with joy because of this kick of color beneath them.
On my good days, I know the Kabul Beauty School will take my girls much farther than rubber boots.
If someone had told me only a few years ago that I’d be living in Afghanistan and running a beauty school, I would have laughed. But as soon as I set my foot on this soil, I knew I’d somehow managed to come home. I’ve been renewed by the spirit of this place and roused by its challenges. I’ve been blessed with family, and I’m rich—especially rich—in sisters. I sometimes wonder if I’ve done as much for them as they’ve done for me. They helped me heal my broken heart and believe in myself again, and I keep trying to repay them for the love they’ve been so eager to share. Afghan women have so much healing to do themselves. They have been held in the dark for so long, and during the darkest years they suffered more than even I can imagine. But the darkness has been pulled back a bit. The light is starting to fall on them now. They need the rest of the world to look, watch, and make sure nothing puts out that light again.
Acknowledgments
I feel like I am at the Oscars, with a long list of people I need to thank and not enough time to thank them. There have been so many people who have come into my life and supported me on this project. This book could not have been written without the help of my good friend Kristin Ohlson, a wonderful writer with a generous spirit who came to Kabul and experienced for herself the daily challenges of the beauty school, and who was with me every step of the way as I struggled to put this story together in the midst of my chaotic life. Thank you for your hard work and for your dedication to the writing of this book and for the long hours spent helping me organize my journals, thoughts, and experiences. We went through some fun times and some hard times together, and in this process you have become a dear friend. You are a wonderful and talented woman.
A special dedication to my sweet husband; without him at my side at each step, I am sure that I would have fallen on my face even more times than I did. You can always make me laugh when I am down. You are as rugged, harsh, and loving as this country. You embody Afghanistan, and through you I have learned how to love again.
I would like to thank my mother, Loie Turner, and my two sons, Noah Lentz and Zachary Lentz, for allowing me to come to Afghanistan and fulfill my lifelong dream. You have supported me in everything that I’ve been through. Mom, you have always been my rock and foundation. You taught me that I could do anything I put my mind to and encouraged me even when you didn’t agree with my decisions. When I was crying half a world away, you always made me feel like you were right here supporting me.
Zach, you are as crazy as your mother. You jumped at the chance to come to Afghanistan when everyone told you it was an insane idea. I hope and pray that you have learned as much as I have from living here. I know that being in Afghanistan was hard on you at times and that there have been many occasions when you were frustrated with Kabul, but thanks for sharing them with me.
Noah, I have missed you very much. I know that it was difficult not having me at home. There have been times I felt like I was letting too much time go by away from you for a country that isn’t even my own. I know how much you hate dirt, and this place would have made you crazy. But the e-mails you wrote and the phone calls you made just to tell me you love me helped me through the day.
A huge thank-you to my wonderful best friend, Karen Kinne, and her children, Josh, Gabe, and Claire. Karen, you stayed online with me while the bombs were dropping like flies; you made me laugh and didn’t leave me while I was scared to death. Thank you for taking care of my life in the States while I am in Afghanistan. Knowing that you are there has made it easier for me to do my work here. Thank you, Karen, for being the best friend I ever had.
To Christine Gara, my lawyer and decorator, thank you for traveling to Kabul to help me paint the school with a dead chicken. Thank you for forgiving me for no hot water and not being able to shower for a week. Not only have you made a difference in my life, but you have shown the women in the Kabul Beauty School what it means to be a strong, independent woman. You have changed many lives.
Thank you to Gay-LeClerc Qaderi, who taught me how to be a wife to an Afghan husband without losing myself. You are still teaching me, and you have become indispensable in my life.
To Betsy Beamon, what can I say? You are as crazy as I am. We have gone down some rocky roads, and having you in Kabul let me know I always had someone whom I could trust and who understood me. Thanks for calling just to ask, “Deb, you all right?” Sometimes the answer was yes, sometimes no. But knowing you were a phone call or a taxi ride away never failed to make me feel less lonely.
Nick and Halima are the reason I am happily married to my wonderful Afghan husband. There are days when I thank you for that and—I’ll admit it—others when I don’t. You have been instrumental in our marriage and have helped us get through some pretty hard times. You showed us how to cross those cultural roads without hitting too many land mines. You will always be the mom and dad to us.
I would like to thank Mary MacMakin fo
r her vision and her dedication to the people of Afghanistan.
I would like to thank Sima Calkin and Lindy Walser, two wonderful hairdressers who used their own money to come teach and support the school. You gave me time to take well-needed breaks. I can’t tell you what it meant to me that you would leave your lives in the States to come here and help.
The constant presence of John Paul DeJoria and Luke Jacobellis at the John Paul Mitchell System gave me the confidence that I could overcome any hurdle. J.P. and Luke, you can never know how important you have become in my life and how safe you have always made me feel.
Vogue and Clairol never left my side. These companies were always there like the Rock of Gibraltar. Without their generous funding, the school would have been lost. I would also like to thank all the companies and all the people who have contributed to the school with supplies or money.
To all my customers in Holland, Michigan, whose hair got too long and whose roots grew gray because I was always gone: thank you for your loyalty when I came back, and thank you for your continuing support and prayers.
To my agent, Marly Rusoff: you believed in me when no one else did. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you. Without your guidance and support, I would never have been able to do this.
To Jane von Mehren, my editor at Random House: somehow you knew that my story was worth telling and you gave me a chance to tell it. You took a risk with me and there are no words strong enough to express my gratitude.
Wow, what a team at Random House. I don’t think I even knew what a team was until I had the chance to meet all of you. You are so kind and supportive and made me feel like a queen. I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world to have a publishing company and team like you to work with.
Finally, I would like to thank all the foreigners and the Afghans who came to our salon when we didn’t have hot water to wash their hair or electricity to blow it dry and never complained.
But most important, I want to thank all the women who have come through the Kabul Beauty School. If we had a dime for every tear shed at the school, we would all be millionaires. One of the wonderful things about Afghan women is that they never let someone cry alone. Without your honesty, friendship, love, and willingness to share your stories, there would have been no book. Thank you for letting me into your lives and allowing me the chance to share them with the rest of the world so the real stories of Afghan women can be heard. You have always treated me more like a sister than a boss or teacher. Always know that I count you among my family, and that I will never be the same because of you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEBORAH RODRIGUEZ has been a hairdresser since 1979, except for one brief stint when she worked as a corrections officer in her hometown of Holland, Michigan. She currently directs the Kabul Beauty School, the first modern beauty academy and training salon in Afghanistan. Rodriguez also owns the Oasis Salon and the Cabul Coffee House. She lives in Kabul with her Afghan husband.
Kabul Beauty School is a work of nonfiction. Although all events depicted herein did occur, some personal names, place names, and the names of some organizations have been changed. Some chronological details have been adjusted as well.
Copyright © 2007 by Deborah Rodriguez-Turner
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
RANDOM HOUSE TRADE PAPERBACKS and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Rodriguez, Deborah.
Kabul Beauty School: an American woman goes behind the veil/Deborah Rodriguez.
p. cm.
1. Women—Afghanistan—Kabul—Social life and customs—21st century. 2. Muslim women—Afghanistan—Kabul—Social conditions—21st century. 3. Kabul Beauty School. 4. Beauty shops—Social aspects—Afghanistan—Kabul. 5. Kabul (Afghanistan)—Social life and customs—21st century. I. Title.
HQ1735.6.R63 2007
305.48'69709581090511—dc22 2006050384
www.atrandom.com
eISBN: 978-1-58836-607-8
v3.0
Deborah Rodriguez, Kabul Beauty School
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