(Kabul) It is one of the last places in Kabul where women can meet outside their homes, a bubble of freedom and even frivolity where all daring is still allowed. Despite threats from the Taliban, Mohadessa decided to leave her beauty salon open.
The customers, dropped off in the car, rush through the discreet storefront, all of the posters of which have been covered with white paint.
Once the heavy purple velvet curtain is crossed, hijabs, abayas and niqabs are put away in a corner.
The Taliban patrols, a few meters away, already seem to belong to another world.
In the hubbub of the hairdryers and the scent of lacquer and varnish, a swarm of women, in leggings, tank tops or already in evening dresses are agitated under the benevolent gaze of Mohadessa, the boss.
The 32-year-old entrepreneur, with long slicked hair and Kim Kardashian-style eyebrows, couldn’t bring herself to go out of business. Or to leave behind the twenty girls who work for her.
“We don’t want to give up our job that we love so much. And Afghan society needs women to work more than ever. Many of our employees support their families, ”she told AFP.
“Haram”
Under the previous Taliban regime (1996-2001), beauty salons were prohibited and for showing varnished fingernails from their burqas, women risked amputation of their fingers.
Since their return to power in mid-August, the fundamentalists claim to have “modernized”. This did not prevent some Taliban from declaring on television that the perfume or the noise of heels were considered “haram” (unclean).
But two months later a certain vagueness reigns over the content and application of their religious edicts.
So Mohadessa cautiously takes advantage of this gap, fearing like many, a sudden hardening.
“I can tell you, everyone comes to work in fear, especially when opening the show”.
That morning, the eve of a public holiday, they are about thirty to make themselves the most beautiful before a wedding evening, which will be, as was already the case, strictly separated between men and women.
The sister of one of the brides, Farkhunda, an English teacher contemplates the result.
Satisfied ? “This is my first real outing since the end of August,” she rejoices.
Under a thick layer of eyeshadow, one of her eyes stays fixed.
“I lost my left eye in a Taliban attack on my school. I have a lot to say about them, but today is a day of celebration, let’s not talk about them, ”she cuts.
“Neither blue nor black”
Every movement of the curtain at the entrance puts women on the alert.
But in this last dedicated place, none of these Afghan women renounce the most advanced expression of their femininity.
As for the hairstyle, the hair is adorned with extensions and sculpted in ultra-sophisticated buns, set with flashy jewels.
For makeup, the more the better: very covering foundation, dizzying false eyelashes, glitter and shine, heart-shaped mouth and powdery finish for a porcelain doll effect.
“This culture of women and their beauty is for us a bulwark against extremism, whether through fashion, make-up or hairdressing”, explains Mohadessa.
“I believe in resistance”, abounds Marwa (changed name), a little 22-year-old woman, who has come to get a mischievous haircut, which frees her ears riddled with piercings.
“We are not the people of the burqa, neither blue nor black”, insists this passionate about fashion, who had just finished her studies of styling in India.
“We have in Afghanistan a fashion so delicate, so beautiful, so colorful […] now we are only ghosts ”, laments the young woman who had to stop her project of the first fashion school in the country.
“Iranian style” –
If the burqa has long been ubiquitous in some provinces of Afghanistan, in Kabul, women wear it little.
Most now wear a long black abaya. But it is common to come across young women who still dare to wear shorter tunics or colorful coats.
As for the veil, it is still frequently worn “Iranian”, the face and the beginning of the hair uncovered.
Regardless of the dress, poetizes the young stylist, “what gives all its beauty to a woman, it is first of all her smile. And when it no longer exists, there is nothing more to do ”.
Between these rare enchanted parentheses in the living room, Marwa says she is waiting for “a miracle” to resume her projects. Farkhunda thinks only of going back to teaching.
And Mohadessa fears for her life.
On her phone, she shows AFP a stamped threat letter from the Taliban Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and the Suppression of Vice that she says she received at the salon.
“Unless they come and threaten me with a knife to my throat, I want to persevere, we stay here”, replies Mohadessa.