Community Spirit on the Wane

A long-standing tradition of neighbour helping neighbour has been undermined by years of conflict and tough economic conditions.

Community Spirit on the Wane

A long-standing tradition of neighbour helping neighbour has been undermined by years of conflict and tough economic conditions.

Friday, 18 November, 2005

The Afghan people used to have a strong tradition where they voluntarily came together to work on projects that benefited the entire community. It might involve building a mosque or a village hall, installing an irrigation system or constructing a bridge.


Many people now fear that the tradition, known as “ashar”, could become a relic of the past, although there is some disagreement about why it is dying out.


Some say that after 20 years of conflict, neighbours have become more suspicious of each other. Others blame the presence of non-government organisations, NGOs, which often take the lead on community projects; while others still say that given the country’s dire economic conditions, most people now expect payment for a day’s work.


"Various customs have been handed down to us,” explained Ahmad Omar Hamid, a lecturer in social sciences at Kabul University. "When the Soviets invaded in 1979…. thousands of people were forced to leave their country and become refugees in foreign lands.


“Those who stayed faced a whole series of problems, so it is not surprising that many customs and traditions began dying during this period.”


Abdurrahim Jan, 56, of Wardak province, believes people became far less friendly towards one another during the years of conflict.


"They began to worship wealth," he said. "They did not want to undertake voluntary work; they wanted cash."


Abdurrahim recalled an incident in 1959 when he was ten years old, in which a child was drowned when a bridge through the centre of the village was washed away by floodwater.


"The bridge was the only link to the bazaar, and people needed to buy food," he said. "All the able-bodied men got together and worked all day long in the water to build a temporary crossing. It was a true demonstration of comradeship and teamwork.


“But it’s all so different now. Friendship and brotherhood have disappeared. Now everyone wants payment.”


Roohani Mama, 62, from the Paghman district of Kabul province, believes that aid organisations have made people lazy and got them into the habit of sponging off others.


"When NGOs and other aid agencies started arriving, they were carrying out some very good projects of benefit to local people," he said.


"But if you asked the men to participate in ashar they would say, 'Why should we do it? Let the foreigners do the work.’"


Mohammad Asif Samim, who runs the clean-water department at the Danish Committee for Aid to Afghan Refugees, said he encourages ashar as a component of the projects he manages.


"I feel we have strengthened ashar in Afghan communities. At least 30 per cent of the physical work is carried out by local volunteers while the remaining 70 per cent is implemented by the organisation.


"We believe it is very important for locals to become involved. If we dig a well or build a dam, it makes them realise how much money and effort goes into construction if they participate in projects. And if you help build something, you are going to look after it and protect it.”


Samim said villagers sometimes invest more than just their physical labour in community projects.


"In Charkh district, Logar province, people donated almost 6,000 US dollars to a well construction scheme," he said.


In the old days there were two kinds of ashar, the public-works scheme where the whole community got together to build a road or a school, and the more private venture where people helped out their neighbours. If someone was building a house, for example, specialists like carpenters or masons would join other villagers for a sociable house-building party, with the host laying on food and refreshments.


Often the local barber would beat a drum to announce the start of work, and if the task was a boring and repetitive one, the drumbeat would continue as a way of inspiring the workers.


If the ashar involved a wedding, or charity work, the barber would cook enormous dishes for all the participants.


The pressure to earn a living may be killing off this communal spirit.


"People are unwilling to do voluntary work because of the poor state of the economy,” said Abdullah, 44, who works for the charity Care International.


"And much of the ashar work is now implemented by the ministry for rural development."


Ghulam Farooq, 33, believes that working abroad may have changed Afghan attitudes about volunteerism. "Thousands of people who have gone to work in other countries have toiled all day, every day," he said. "They haven’t wasted a single hour, so it is not surprising that they don’t want to work here for nothing."


Ghulam Mohammad Nooristani, deputy director of Kabul's sanitation department, agrees that it’s a simple economic choice, "Everyone is striving to earn half a loaf of bread. Instead of spending a day on ashar, a man can work and be paid.


"Before the troubles, 50 per cent of the sanitation work was carried out on Fridays through ashar, but this has dropped to just five per cent."


Amanullah Nasrat is an IWPR staff reporter in Kabul.


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