For women in Kabul, respite in a pool.
KABUL, Afghanistan — When Fatema Saeedi is in the pool, she cannot hear the noise of the crowded, chaotic city around her. She does not think about suicide bombings or Taliban attacks.
For Ms. Saeedi, 26, the swimming pool is a refuge. The clean water, the walls and the women around her — all sealed off from the male patrons nearby — are a welcome respite from Kabul, Afghanistan’s capital.
Although the city has become more politically progressive in the nearly two decades it has been governed by a Western-backed democracy, Kabul is still steeped in a socially conservative Afghan culture that often relegates women to hidden or subjugated roles.
“In Kabul, women can’t go anywhere,” Ms. Saeedi said recently as she finished a swim. “But here, I don’t have to cover up and pretend anything. I am just myself.”
Although membership is expensive and the pool is far from her house, “When I come here, I forget about everything else,” Ms. Saeedi said. “It is just me and the water, and it is safe.”
The first pool opened in May 2001, just months before the American-backed invasion ousted the Taliban from the country. Since then, 23 public and private pools have appeared in Kabul, a city of nearly five million people, but only two allow women.
Helena Saboori, the director of the female committee at the country’s swimming federation, said interest in the sport had increased since the women’s pools opened.
One of those pools, Amu, opened four years ago in western Kabul. The other women-only pool opened last year in the middle of the city.
The Amu pool costs $75 a month for women, about $20 more than for their male counterparts. When asked about the price difference, a pool manager, Mohamed Rahim, said upkeep of the women’s pool and locker room cost more. But, he added, the pool is working to lower the price.
Mr. Rahim doesn’t know exactly how many women swim there. No one tracks attendance, which varies from about 15 to 70 a day.
“When we first opened and started allowing women to swim, we also received many threats,” Mr. Rahim said.
Arezo Hassanzada, 28, is an aquatic trainer at Amu. “Since I was a kid, I wanted to learn how to swim, but there was no place to go and learn,” she said of the landlocked country. Now, she helps other women into yellow and brown life jackets before they enter the water for the first time.
Outside the splashing and laughing inherent to Amu is the possibility that the Taliban could return to power. They would almost certainly try to bring an end to the sport.
The fear was palpable last July, when Taliban rockets struck in Amu’s neighborhood. Ms. Hassanzada was overseeing a pool full of women when she heard the explosions.
“I thought to myself, ‘Maybe our customers won’t come back,’ ” Ms. Hassanzada said. “But the next morning, they did.”