Yesterday morning, as I waited for the boiling water to galvanize the well-ground organic coffee beans in the recyclable brown-paper filter perched inside the ceramic dripper on the kitchen counter, I noticed several people passing silently by on the street outside.
The first person to catch my eye was a young woman, perhaps 30, walking from north to south. She was holding the leash of a large black dog that trailed slowly behind her, and strapped to her chest was a tiny baby inside a warm cloth carrier. She also wore a large white face mask and her hair was pulled back.
Not long after she passed from view, two elderly neighbors, their hair brilliantly silver, emerged from behind the bamboo and strolled past in the same direction. They too were masked and walking at a leisurely pace. The man was slightly bent in posture.
As they proceeded up the gradual incline to our left, they passed another elderly man on the far side of the street. His mask was around his chin as he adjusted the garbage and recycling bins in front of his house.
Then, from the left, walking down the street came another young woman, unmasked, without a dog or a baby. So far as I could tell, the old man and the young woman did not acknowledge each other's presence as they passed.
By this time, my cup of coffee was ready and I left the window-viewing for another time. Something about the scene of people walking silently back and forth added a melancholy note to my day, though it in no way made me sad.
I was happy to see so many people out exercising, and that the air, so often befouled by smoke this summer and winter, was clear enough they could do so.
I'm that guy who can't pass strangers without greeting them in one way or another, at least with a nod and (pre-Covid) a smile. These days, my eyes do the smiling. If the strangers care to talk, I love hearing their stories. Of course, recognizing a person is even more special, because exchanging greetings is a way to update each other's stories, documenting the latest chapter since last time we met.
In Afghan villages, these kinds of encounters were rather more intimate. Two men, meeting on the dirt street, would stop, embrace, kiss and take each other's hand. As we held hands, we inquired in elaborate ritualized fashion, after the various parts of each other's bodies, reassuring each other that we indeed remained well.
One part of our body we discussed was our heart. "How is your heart?" (قلب شما چطور است؟) It was customary to also ask about how your "family" is doing, which means how is your wife? You ask him that as you are holding his hand, even if his wife is standing next to him, veiled, because it would be impolite to address her directly.
Thus the simplest gestures in life differ culture by culture. Inside Afghanistan, when I ran into a friend who was bilingual, including other Westerners, we would greet each other in both languages, English and Dari.
We tended to behave just like two Afghan men would with two exceptions. One was the language usage -- our inquiries about each other's work or intellectual pursuits were conducted in English, but our exchanges about emotional things were in Dari.
The other was about gender. As Westerners, men and women would hug each other in public. But we tended not to kiss or hold hands -- that might be interpreted as disrespectful to local custom. That said, the Afghans tended to defer to our strange Western ways, and some of them even wished to emulate us.
The few occasions when I met with Afghan women privately, they told me they yearned to be "modern," and that was one reason they had asked to meet with me alone. Though it made them nervous, they wanted to make a statement to their peers that they were ready to discard the burka and join society on an equal footing with men.
Fifty years later, I wonder what the scene would be today from my window in northern Afghanistan, as men and women, young and old, pass on their morning walks.
***
How is your news, my friend?
* U.S. experts convene to decide whether to OK Pfizer vaccine (AP)
* ‘Small Town, No Hospital’: Covid-19 Is Overwhelming Rural West Texas -- As cases soar in Texas, hospitals are filling up from El Paso to Lubbock. The Big Bend region is especially vulnerable, with just one hospital for 12,000 square miles. (NYT)
* One-day U.S. deaths top 3,000, more than D-Day or 9/11 (AP)
* Holidays in a Pandemic? Here’s What Happened in 1918 -- The festive season fell between two deadly waves of the deadly influenza outbreak. Families still gathered, often with empty chairs at the table. (NYT)
* Because the coronavirus can linger on surfaces for multiple days, a team deployed by the General Services Administration will go over every part of the White House's East and West Wings touched by human hands in the hours after Trump departs and Biden moves in, a spokesperson from the agency confirmed. That includes plans to "thoroughly clean and disinfect" all furniture, doorknobs, handrails and light switches, before Biden and his team move in. Additionally, a private contractor will provide "disinfectant misting services" to clear the air of lingering droplets. (Politico)
* U.S. military dispatches B-52 bombers to Middle East as show of force against Iran (WashPo)
* U.S. budget deficit up 25.1% in first 2 months of budget year (AP)
* Chancellor Angela Merkel called for stricter lockdown restrictions and urged Germans to avoid holiday activities as the number of cases continues to rise. (Reuters)
* With Far-Right Extremism On The Rise, Germany Investigates Its Police (NPR)
* Experts: Tokyo's healthcare system under strain (NHK)
* The danger is growing that Trump’s lies about the election will lead to violence (WashPo)
* 'It Is Roiling Him': NYT's Maggie Haberman Unpacks Trump's Refusal To Admit He Lost (NPR)
* For the first time in history manmade materials now likely outweigh all life on Earth, scientists said Wednesday in research detailing the "crossover point" at which humanity's footprint is heavier than that of the natural world. (Phys.org)
* Walmart readying to administer COVID-19 vaccine (Reuters)
* Arguments over mask requirements and other restrictions have turned ugly in recent days as the deadly coronavirus surge across the U.S. engulfs small and medium-size cities that once seemed safely removed from the outbreak. In Boise, Idaho, public health officials about to vote on a four-county mask mandate abruptly ended a meeting because of safety fears, as anti-mask protesters gathered outside the building and at some of their homes. [AP]
* Uber asks U.S. states to prioritize its drivers for COVID-19 vaccine (Reuters)
* Covid-19 has meant the youngest children can’t go to birthday parties or play dates. Parents are keeping them out of day care. What is the long-term effect of the pandemic on our next generation? (NYT)
*
Airbnb valuation surges past $100 billion in biggest U.S. IPO of 2020
(Reuters)
* The Resentment That Never Sleeps (Opinion / Thomas B. Edsall) -- Rising anxiety over declining social status tells us a lot about how we got here and where we’re going. (NYT)
* Stealing to survive: More Americans shoplift food as aid runs out (WashPo)
* The average Californian drinks for 4 days in a row over the holidays, reveals survey. (cherrydigitalcontent.com)
* French watchdog fines Google, Amazon for breaching cookies rules (Reuters)
* New whale species discovered off coast of Mexico -- Scientists were searching for a rare species of whale when they discovered what they believe is an entirely new species of the marine mammal. (CNN)
* A humpback whale has been splashing around the Statue of Liberty this week, marking its third known visit to New York waters—and the first time since 2016 that a whale has been spotted north of the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. (WSJ)
* Facebook Announces Plan To Break Up U.S. Government Before It Becomes Too Powerful (The Onion)
***
The lot we used to pass by every day
You won't see me follow you back home
The empty sidewalks on my block are not the same
You're not to blame
I'm forced to cry
From deep inside the pain
That I chose to hide
You won't see me follow you back home
Now as the rain burns down upon my weary eyes
For me it cries
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