Beating about Bush Bazaar

The last thing Bush expected when he invaded Afghanistan: Bush Bazaar.

It helps to have a sense of humour when browsing through Bush Bazaar in downtown Kabul. And it is even better to have a companion to laugh with as you wander. Named after the American president George W Bush, the bazaar features all types of military gear and accessories, many of which seem to have literally fallen off the back of a truck.

Getting to the ‘Bush’ Bazaar, previously known as ‘Lenin Bazaar’ during the Soviet occupation, is no easy feat, even for a true Kabulian like my friend Sohail. Simply instructing a cab driver to take you there is an adventure in itself. It also happens that there is not one but two Bush Bazaars and the taxi driver will drive you to whichever one happens to be the closest. This time it turned out to be the wrong one.

“Hey! Wrong Bush Bazaar,” Sohail told the cab driver as the car screeched to a halt amidst heaps of socks, boots and other army gear dumped on both sides of the jam packed road. Even light hearted arguments sound volcanic in Pashtu and this was no exception; the cab driver claimed that he had negotiated payment to ‘this’ Bush Bazaar and not ‘that’ Bush Bazaar. He was quite reluctant to drive all the way to the other Bazaar and only agreed after we negotiated a sizeable increase in the fare.



I’ve always found the sight of the omnipresent ISAF armed personnel carriers rather disturbing. Then much to my agony, one of these intimidating metal monsters rammed into our cab! The infuriated cab driver jumped out of the car and started arguing with the security personnel. Despite the police presence, a crowd started gathering and the situation could have turned explosive any second. I breathed a sigh of relief when our cab finally rattled on.

The real Bush Bazaar was a bit of a letdown at first sight, hiding behind tacky and corrugated iron blocks of run-down buildings near the Sharae-e-Naw District. I was expecting it to be disorderly, colourful and loud, but the bazaar had unusually clean cement walkways and open fronted shops.

“The cleanest bazaar in Kabul,” announced Sohail, “probably the most expensive one too!” Bush Bazaar, until recently, was frequented by foreigners and so the Ministry of Health imposed strict hygiene regulations and for once, even rigorously checked expiry dates on food items.

Sadly, the best goods stolen from the US Army en route to Afghanistan no longer arrive in Kabul. “Since the border clampdowns, the best of the stuff gets no further than Peshawar,” Sohail explained, “if someone is looking for stuff like guns then there is no point in looking here. Hijacked weapons never get past Pakistan and neither do the vehicles that some stolen containers contain.”

Those containers are auctioned off in a smugglers bazaar just outside Peshawar where bidders pay a minimum of Rs100,000 for a container. Many who bid actually have no clue what they are seeking or getting. If they are lucky and hit a jackpot, they may just find something worth the money. But often, a couple of lacs are forked out for a container full of toilet rolls. It’s a mystery box game at the best of times.

As you stroll through the bazaar, you can see jars of caviar, packets of coffee and freezers full of parmesan cheese, while young children chase you with their wheelbarrows for hire. The bazaar has been better days, but they are long gone, the shopkeepers and the children say.

Shoddy Chinese rip-offs have now infiltrated Bush Bazaar and genuine US military apparel is fairly difficult to find. The same goes for the ‘look good’ backpacks, all of which are at least twice, if not thrice, the price of identical items sold in Pakistan. But the army boots are genuine indeed and definitely tempting, despite their inflated prices.



The bazaar, deserted on this bitter cold winter afternoon, is slowly becoming a hub for second-hand clothes.  But if you have the eye of a hawk and a soft spot for quirky items, a lot of treasure is certainly waiting out there.

When I noticed a strange, metal contraption with thumbscrews and vicious saw blades, I was alarmed. It seemed like the latest model of a medieval torture machine. To my relief, it turned out to be an elaborate meat slicing and mincing machine for amateur cooks like myself. Then, we came across a contraption that seemed like it was meant to hold broken limbs together — we weren’t wrong on this one, for it was in fact a pair of bendable leg supports used to prevent skiers from breaking their legs.

Much to our amusement, we were greeted with signs that read ‘Mobile gorillas’. The term turned out to be nothing more than a brand name for heavy duty, plastic travelling trunks. We also found some sad-looking parachute harnesses, lying empty of the parachute itself.

The food items, mainly of American origin, were quite interesting. ‘Warfighter Recommended’, ‘Warfighter Tested’, and ‘Warfighter Approved’, along with ‘US Government Property — Commercial Resale Is Unlawful’ were emblazoned across the vacuum packed, ready to heat food packets. Curiously, ready to eat Pork chops were also on sale.

In the end, while the miniature camouflage backpacks, the talking Pashtu dictionaries, the gun scopes, the watches and the assortment of dismantled computer equipment all sparked my interest, nothing could beat the roasted peanuts sold on the traditional ‘thela’ outside.

It just goes to show that while armies and conquerors come and go, sometimes leaving their trash behind, the true delights of Kabul will always remain quintessentially Afghan.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, February 17^th, 2013.

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