Afghanistan: No You Can't Drive

In 2002, I volunteered and then was employed to work for an NGO on aid projects in Afghanistan. Although our projects were in the country, we lived in Pakistan very near the border. As the distance between where we lived and where our projects were, was not within walking distance and foreigners were not encouraged to walk in the streets due to security - we were usually driven to project sites by hired drivers in our van.

Our drivers were all Afghanis who were born in Afghanistan but had been brought up and educated in Pakistan, in an area where a large community of Afghanis like themselves lived and who mostly still held onto their strict values and culture. These drivers spoke some English and were young and full of spirit and I have to admit, rather good looking.

But their looks have nothing to do with this story. This story is about something else.

One day a group of us had a meeting with Pakistani army officials near the border. As usual, I sat in front, next to the driver. And no, it wasn't because of his looks (well, not entirely!) but because the front seat had the best view of the road. It was my first time in these two countries and there was always so much to see and observe that I always wanted the best seat.

As we left the army compound I told the driver "you know, back home, I drive a lot". He didn't quite respond and just sort of smiled like I was joking. So I said, "no, really, I drive back home. I even have my own car." He simply replied "no you don't. Women can't drive."

As usual, I, a woman quite easily scorned in such circumstances, told him, "Okay...I'll prove it to you that I, and other women, can drive. Stop the van and I'll show you." At first I thought I was playing along with what his "teasing" when he stopped the van and stepped out of the driver's seat to let me in. So I got in the driver's seat. Adjusted the rear view mirror and the seat so I was comfortable and revved the engine a little. My driver, who was in the passenger seat just looked on amused. I wish I could have taken a photo of his face when the van moved after I stepped on the clutch, got into gear and stepped on the accelerator quite comfortably without letting the engine die. He was genuinely shocked. He almost couldn't believe his eyes. A woman was actually driving!

I was almost as shocked too as I thought he was teasing when he said women can't drive. I think that was the very moment I realised that women in his part of Pakistan and Afghanistan were living in a completely shut off and conservative society. I had certainly heard and read the stories. I had Afghanis tell me the same but an experience like that kind of brought the fact home closer.

I continued to drive without much problem although I had never driven on small road road congested with trucks, cars, horse carts, children pushing wheelbarrows, pedestrians and three wheelers. All of whom didn't take much notice of me driving at first.

Not until I drove to "No Man's Land", a smugglers haven between the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan, that is. We stopped here to order some supplies for a food aid project. After about 5 minutes of waiting, a boy who had noticed me came up to the my driver who was still in the passenger seat talking animatedly in Pashto, the main local language in the area. My driver looked at me, smiled and responded to the boy, who then turned around and called other boys to come up to the van. Quite suddenly there were at least 10 or more people surrounding the front of van peering into the windscreen at me pointing and laughing. I got a bit nervous as they started getting more and more excited and shouting words I couldn't comprehend. And so I asked my driver what was going on? He told me that some of the people were asking whether I was a man or a woman because they could not believe that a woman was driving!

This went on for a number of minutes before more people came to look. I felt like a clown in a circus or more like a caged animal in a zoo as it was unlikely I could move the van. It soon got too uncomfortable for my liking so we drove off without any incident.

When we got back to our office and home, my driver complimented me on my driving - which I thought was rather nice of him! I asked him whether it would be safe to continue driving and he seemed to think so. So, from then on, I was known as the first woman to drive in Chaman (Pakistan) and Spin Boldak (Afghanistan). I would regularly drive around, never alone of course, but with at least a staff or volunteer in the car. I loved it. I felt it was also an opportunity to educate Afghanis and Pakistanis in the area just what a woman, particularly a Muslim woman, is capable of, given the chance. I don't think I changed their mindset, because as a foreign woman, I was expected to get away with doing certain things local women weren't allowed to do, but I hope I at least opened up their minds a little to some possibilities.

I know for certain that my drivers were more than happy to let me drive and that I had gained their confidence as a competent driver. Oh yes. I must have. Because one day, they let me drive for over two hours from the border to the nearest capital, while they all slept in the back seat.