Where's Dara?

5 and 20 February 2007

“We have a problem,” Aleks was telling me over the phone.

“What?” I asked.

“With the cook,” he responded. “You will see it in the email.”

Ten minutes later comes the email.

Subject line: “Cook dissatisfied.”

In Afghanistan, as I have explained before, we all live in ‘guest houses’. These group houses can be ‘private’ or ‘commercially’ run. Obviously, the ‘private’ houses tend to be more like a house. In most every ‘guest house’, you not only have the requisite security guards, but you have at least one chokidoor (house boy), and, normally, a cook.

Houses have cooks in large part because, especially in field offices, people eat all meals at their ‘guest house’ and given the number of people, it is likely that some do not cook. While we did not have a cook last year, we were also in Kabul and had international food shops at our disposal, as well as restaurants. In Kunduz, we have but one restaurant and few shops with novelty items such as pasta, cheese, etc. Kabob or bust! In my house, while I often cook, some housemates struggle with boiling water. The cook is the life line.

Our cook, Gertie, had come to us through some housemates when they moved in from a guest house that was closing down. An Afghan from Taloqan, Takhar—the capital of the neighboring province)--he had been a refugee in Pakistan and apparently cooked at the Italian consulate in Peshawar, Pakistan. Hmmm.

Mid to late 40s or early 50s, he was a puttering presence in our house, always awaiting feedback on the food, or watching intently while I cooked.

He was a pretty good cook for Afghanistan. He cooked nice soups, baked some good (though slightly too sweet) cakes, and decent meat dishes. He, however, did overcook pasta... He also was in charge of buying all the food. While there had been some tension with him about money and the availability of decent ingredients, generally all was good.

Then, the day of email. He apparently had stormed out of the house--throwing his books to the new house manager. When we arrived back home that night there was no cook.

At a house meeting, it turned out that there were two issues: money and conflict with the chokidoor. On the first, apparently, he asked for more money and the house manager would not give him. To all of us, it appeared that money was being skimmed but we had no proof. On the second, he was upset that the new house manager asked the choikdoor to get--now get this--water, oranges and apples in bulk. Territory was violated.

It was decided that I should mediate for the house. Gerdie liked me, as a fellow cook. So, we arranged a meeting.

It took 2 hours of neogtiating. I even had to negotiate between Gerdie and our chokidoor, Saleh, who would get the morning naan (bread).

He was to return the following Sunday (beginning of the week). I left for Kabul before he was to come back. I arrived back from Kabul and there was no cook. Apparently, the house manager had gone through the books and found clear evidence that he had been skimming money from the house. Out he went.

We still have no cook. Our ever able chokidoor, Saleh, is doing his best for the house. Only in Afghanistan.