Freshta [Paperback]

This is a very different novel to other books I read set in Afghanistan like Hosseini's The Kite Runner, A Thousand Splendid Suns or Seierstad's Bookseller in Kabul. I was expecting another `brutal and heart-breaking' story but this novel was quite refreshing and surprisingly amusing with some impossibly funny scenes. Set in Kabul, the novel tells the story of one family narrated by half-Russian, half-Tadjik woman - Herra who relocates from Russia after she marries an Afghan. This book has some wonderful and memorable characters: Grandpa, a feminist who does not shy away from bashing other male members of the family for disrespecting women or insists on sending girls to school, and Mad, the disfigured boy, adopted by the family, who turns out to be very sensitive and clever.

Herra is quite critical about Western humanitarian organisations and the ignorance of Americans towards Afghan culture, language and customs. This element of the book was very enjoyable and honest, rather than the usual portrayal of Americans as the good guys who bring the Western values of democracy and freedom. This book forced me to open my eyes and introduced a different perspective to Afghanistan and ordinary people who live there. Another thing that caught my eye is the beautiful design of the book, the cover and spine are simply gorgeous.

'Freshta' tells the story of Herra and Freshta. The narrator, Herra, a Russian who married an Afghan, Nazir, whom she met at university in Moscow, lives with her husband's family and suffers from childlessness. However, one day a child is brought to them. Mad, an intelligent and loving child, is deformed and acts as Herra's sidekick and protector throughout the book. Her sister-in-law, Freshta, married for love, but is subject to repeated beatings at the hands of her husband. The household also includes Nazir and Freshta's father, mother and grandfather, as well as Freshta's children. The grandfather tells stories of a time before the Taliban, when women were more educated and liberated, and is a bit of a feminist. Freshta's daughter, Roshangol, feels stifled by her father and fears being forced into an unwanted marriage. The hopes, fears and fates of these characters are interwoven in a compelling tale.

The novel comes from an interesting point of view, as Herra is both an insider, having married an Afghan and lived there for many years when the book starts, and an outsider, as she is Russian, and continuously struggles with this dual identity. She is in between the reader and other Afghans she encounters, having experienced greater freedom and acquired an education in the earlier part of her life, but also having adapted to her local context.

This is the story of the struggle to adapt to a new Afghanistan and of how Western involvement in Afghanistan affects the family. It gives us the Afghan perspective on Americans and Europeans waltzing in to 'save' Afghan women and criticises them for their cultural insensitivity, and their belief that they can understand Afghan culture just by reading a book. The Westerners in the novel make little attempt to adapt to their surroundings and have little understanding for the choices Afghan women have and make. 'Freshta' also offers an explanation for why women in Afghanistan may choose to wear the burka, where in other societies they might not. Indeed, Herra explains that women in Afghanistan are regularly subject to physical and verbal sexual harrassment outside the home, unless they hide under a burka.

Interestingly, the book includes a scene where Nazir brings home a tape of 9/11 for the family to watch, having been asked by Americans for the Afghan family's opinion. The family are non-plussed, having themselves experienced explosions and death. Nazir tells the Americans that they were shocked and very sorry, when in fact the events have little significance to them and hardly excite their sympathy. I found this allusion to the fact that 9/11 is only of importance in Western-centric parts of the world particularly apt. It forces the reader to replace such events in perspective.

Despite broaching serious topics, such as domestic abuse, there are surprisingly humorous moments throughout the book. The lengths the family are willing to go to in order to preserve the women's honour are often dealt with lightheartedly and affectionately and result in rather ridiculous scenes.

The book's weak point is Herra and Nazir's relationship. Though Prochazkova attempts to create a complex relationship of love, jealousy and at times abuse, it comes across as rather flat and unrealistic. As a reader, I found it difficult to understand why Herra would have married him, left her family and friends to move to Afghanistan, and why she continues to love him throughout. Their relationship is relatively predictable and did not offer sufficient insight into power dynamics between men and women in Afghan marriages.

All in all, however, 'Freshta' was an enjoyable read, easily finished in a few days, and I would particularly recommend it to those who have an interest in Afghanistan or women's rights.

Freshta is the debut novel of the Czech war correspondent, journalist and humanitarian worker Petra Procházková. She has spent time working, reporting and providing aid in Afghanistan so this story of life in Kabul is grounded in real knowledge and testimony from those she has met over several years.

Told from the point of view of Herra, a Russian-Tajik woman who grew up in Moscow but married an Afghan man twelve years ago and was taken home by him to Kabul, this is a story of her adopted extended family's life around the time of the Twin Towers attack and Americans arriving in Afghanistan on the hunt for Osama bin Laden.

The family are a curious group who reflect different aspects of Afghan history and culture. The grandfather remembers the days when women had education and wore Western style clothes on the street, he's a feminist and despite ignoring some of the violence in his home he campaigns for the girls to be educated. The father and mother have a rather brittle relationship with Herra, especially since she hasn't had any children. Herra's sister-in-law, Freshta, is gorgeous but made the ghastly mistake of marrying a controlling and violent man who decides her every move and punishes her for the slightest transgression. The grandfather, parents, Freshta, Freshta's husband and their five kids, Herra and her husband all live in one house that is by turns lively and claustrophobic.

Herra's voice is a revelation, an unexpected blend of humour and pragmatism. After twelve years she has adopted the Muslim faith and learnt the complex rules that govern a woman's life in this restrictive country. She knows when she is allowed to speak, what will anger her husband and when to turn a blind eye to her brother-in-law beating his wife. But she's still an outsider and despite all the things she has accepted and learnt since coming to Kabul, she has a more `Western' way of thinking and sometimes dreams of going back to Moscow.

As the story begins life is about to change for the whole family, the Twin Towers are about to fall and although the family aren't affected by this event thousands of miles away when they watch it on sketchily recorded VHS tape, they are all affected by the fall of the Taliban and the coming of Americans. Herra and her husband, childless after over a decade together, are given a child to raise, Mad. Mad's curious and intelligent and is a great character who had me laughing several times with his witty and direct descriptions of odd cultural rules. Freshta's situation with her controlling husband is reaching crisis point and rows amongst the whole family about whether their teenage daughter should be allowed to go to school don't help. Herra's husband meanwhile starts working as a driver for American aid workers with surprising consequences.

Procházková's skill is in describing the dark realities of domestic violence and living on top of one another in limited space with strict rules and then blending these stark circumstances with sharp humour and delicate explanations of foreign ideas like why a woman wears a burka or how rude it is for a stranger to ask for a Afghan woman's name.

It never felt like I was getting a lesson though because the way Herra explained the situation or cultural difference felt natural and flowed as part of the narrative. Having the extra information made the story far clearer and I felt like Procházková had done an excellent job of setting the scene and explaining the action for those of us who have only read a little about Afghani culture before. You could read this with no background knowledge at all without ever having to run to Wikipedia or missing a reference which made me relax far more into the story. Julia Sherwood's translation no doubt deserves some of the credit for this too.

I really felt I got to know the characters and I cared about the women of the family and what was going to happen to them. The twist at the end had me simultaneously shaking my head and saying, `Yes'. Procházková has managed to write a fantastic novel that reads as warm, intelligent fiction but used her journalistic skills to ensure that the book is grounded in real experiences, no mean feat.