I'm a seasoned shopper, but this was definitely one of the odder shopping excursions I've ever been on.
A new arrival to Afghanistan, on Thursday morning, I met, for the first time, an Afghan man who normally helps The Globe and Mail with interpreting and arranging stories. However, on this occasion, he had travelled 20 kilometres south from Kandahar City to “measure” me for a burka.
“You are bigger than most Afghan women,” he said, quickly eyeing my 125-pound, five-foot-five frame, as I sat with him in the back seat of a car. A male Afghan driver was in the front.
For Western female journalists planning to work in Kandahar City, the full-body veil is a necessity for security reasons. The city is an increasingly dangerous place for foreigners, and a burka will allow me and my guides to move around undetected and conduct interviews.
While the burka, which is known as a chadri in Afghanistan, isn't commonly seen in places such as Kabul these days, Kandahar City is a different story. Located in southern Afghanistan, the conservative city is the birthplace of the Taliban, and many local women still don the shapeless, often blue, garment.
“Those will not do,” the Afghan man later said, as he pointed to my dusty hiking boots.
He measured my size nine feet by letting me slip on his sandal. “A size 7 in Afghanistan,” he said confidently, as I played with it on my foot.
I gave him some American cash to make the purchases, and soon he was gone.
