Sunday, October 6, 2013

An American Jewish 'Bride' Remembers Her Escape From Kabul

Audio for this story from
Weekend Edition Sunday
will be available at approximately
12:00 p.m. ET.
In her memoir, Phyllis Chesler questions whether she and her first husband, Abdul-Kareem, were ever really in love. "Were we soul mates?" she writes. "I am not sure. I dare not remember — the pain would be overwhelming and pointless."

In her memoir, Phyllis Chesler questions
whether she and her first husband,
Abdul-Kareem, were ever really in love.
"Were we soul mates?" she writes.
"I am not sure. I dare not remember —
the pain would be overwhelming
and pointless."
Courtesy Palgrave Macmillan
Phyllis Chesler and Abdul-Kareem
met in college. She was an 18-year-
old Jewish girl from the East Coast;
he was a young Muslim man from
a wealthy Afghan family. They
fell in love over New Wave cinema,
poetry and existentialism, and
eventually they married.
In her new memoir, An American 
Bride in Kabul, Chesler tells her
story of excitedly traveling to
Afghanistan in 1961 with her new
husband, who said he wanted to be
a modernizing force in his country.
But, as she tells NPR's Rachel Martin,
her passport was almost immediately
confiscated upon arrival.

























"I was shocked. I resisted, I refused to
give it up and I was persuaded that it's
a small matter, that it would be returned,
sent to the home. I never saw it again,"
she says. "And I tried to leave — I would
go to the American embassy and they'd
say, 'We can't help you if you don't have
an American passport.'"
Chesler soon found herself a virtual
prisoner — an Afghan wife with no rights.

Interview Highlights

On what her days were like in Afghanistan
My Afghan husband went off to do
something, I know not what – have tea
with minister after minister, present his
credentials and so on, which is how he
would then get his place and move up,
which he did. I was left home. I
watched my mother-in-law sew.
I watched her hit the female servants
and curse them.
On not being able to leave the house 
without a male escort
My husband feared that if I wandered
about I would be kidnapped and raped
— an American kid in jeans and sneakers.
But progress was in the air, there was
hope in the air and my husband really
believed that Kabul would soon one
day become Paris on the Kabul River.
On how getting horribly sick helped 
her get out of Afghanistan
I got dysentery, but that was not as
terrifying as the hepatitis, which had killed
every other foreigner that season. And so
I really speeded up escape plans. And at
the very last minute, when I had kind of
an escape plan in the works, my
father-in-law, a very dapper fellow,
he said, "I know about your little plan
and I think it might be better if you
leave for health reasons on an Afghan
passport, which I have procured for you."
I bless him forever for that.
... When I got back here and I literally
kissed the ground at Idlewild [Kennedy]
Airport, I said, "Back home in the land
of liberty and libraries." I then had a
note from the State Department, by
and by, saying, "You have to leave.
You came on a visa — it's up." I said,
"Oh, sirs, I will chain myself to the
Statue of Liberty. I'm not leaving."
And it took two and a half years to
straighten it all out.
Phyllis Chesler has published more than a dozen works of nonfiction, includingWomen and Madness.
Joan L. Roth/Courtesy of Palgrave Macmillan














On how she and her husband ended 
things
My husband would not agree to a
divorce and I had to get an annulment.
But when he fled just before the Soviets
invaded, he came to call upon me. ...
And he said to me, he said, "I had
hoped that you would have been more
ambitious, that you would have seen
what you could accomplish in bringing
this country into the 20th or 21st centuries.
Instead, you turned tail and ran. True,
you wrote a few books for a few people,
but where does that measure up?" I was
stunned.
On how she feels about him today
I sometimes think that I've yearned for
the mystical union which we represent,
for the bridging of cultures that cannot
be bridged, for the continuation of
tenderness when legal bonds have
failed. Do I forgive him? I survived
and I came away with a writer's treasure,
ultimately. And he became a muse for
this book. He's a character now in
the book and I have tenderness for
this character.

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