A Longer Workday Is Price of Peace

If there is one capitalist reality that Afghans have learned in these days of peace after more than two decades of communism and chaos, it’s that there is no such thing as a free lunch.

That’s why there was little grousing Sunday when the government summarily extended the official workday from five hours to eight. The longer day includes a paid lunch hour, putting more money in every employee’s pocket.

With workloads increasing daily as the wheels of state creak back into motion, the 600,000 Afghans restored to the government payroll since December appear to be taking in stride what constitutes a 40% increase in their working hours for a 55-cent daily wage hike.

For workers whose monthly earnings average about $33, the extra 55 cents will be a princely sum.

“I’m happy about the extra pay, so if it means I have to work longer, so be it,” said Gul Jan, a 35-year-old clerk at Kabul’s city government headquarters whose monthly income is jumping from $29 to $46.

The lengthened workday was decreed just Thursday, the last day of the workweek in Islamic countries, catching many government employees by surprise. Only those with access to television or radio learned over the weekend that the day now runs from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., instead of 1 p.m.

“It’s clear to the whole world that we have a lot to do to lift ourselves out of this mess,” said Fazil Ahmed Zakeri, deputy minister for social affairs. “By restoring a normal workday, we should be able to boost productivity and get on with the business of rebuilding the country.”

Although such an edict might foment a labor revolution in many parts of the world, Afghans who work for the state remain conscious of the disorder and poverty still afflicting much of their homeland. Most regard the new workday as an economic necessity and a patriotic duty.

“We were way behind in our record-keeping after the Taliban destroyed everything, and we weren’t able to get everything done in just five hours a day,” said Abdul Saboor, manager of the payroll accounting department for the Kabul municipal government. “We were always hurrying in our work, which led to mistakes, so now that we have afternoons as well, we should be able to work more efficiently.”

Like many of his colleagues, Saboor considers the extra 55 cents, technically called a lunch stipend, poor recompense for having to stay in the office until 4p.m. He pointed out that the extra income will be nullified by higher costs for commuting home at rush hour, when taxis and private buses charge steeper fares. But he views the extension as a burden that each worker must shoulder without complaint.

“The interim government would pay us more if it had the money, but it doesn’t,” Saboor said. “We all have to do our part.”

Afghan government and office workers used to put in an 8-to-4 day in the relatively stable years when Mohammad Zaher Shah reigned, and even after the 1979 Soviet invasion, when a free workplace lunch was added by Moscow’s central planners.

That practice persisted through 1992, when the moujahedeen government ousted communist President Najibullah and the bloody infighting that eventually allowed the Taliban to seize power began taking its toll on finances as well as stability. The workday was cut to five hours so the government could reduce costs by sending workers home in time for the midday meal.

For more than 20 years, no one here has had any experience with brown-bagging.

“We’ll fetch something from the bazaar today, but from now on, I guess we’ll bring something from home,” said Fauzia Nuri, a typist in the city accounting department who relies on her $37 monthly salary to provide for herself, her unemployed husband and eight children. At lunchtime Sunday, she and half a dozen colleagues chipped in about 25 cents each and sent someone for paprika-coated french fries and flatbread.

Ruhullah Wahadi, a 26-year-old ticketing agent for the state-owned Ariana Airlines, said he wouldn’t be caught dead carrying a lunch box.

“It’s embarrassing and undignified,” insisted the bachelor, who supports his widowed mother and 15-year-old sister. “I’ll go hungry if they don’t open a cafeteria here.”

Some of the larger state ministries and offices are pondering restoring in-house cafeterias, both to create more jobs and to offer convenient and more hygienic alternatives to the greasy fare peddled from dingy pushcarts usually parked over open sewers.

Sunday’s new lunch rush was a boon for food vendors such as Abdul Khaleq, who parked his charcoal-fired hot plate outside the main city administration building to serve hungry office workers a calzone-like dish called bulani. He calculated that he would more than double his usual daily earnings of about $2.

The hardship of a longer workday will fall disproportionately on employed women, who continue to shoulder the entire domestic load in this patriarchal society.

Most married female office workers must clean the house and cook the evening meal once they get home, even if their husbands are jobless.

Those with working spouses also face complications.

“My husband works in security and doesn’t get home until 10 p.m., so there is no one who can watch our three children after school,” said Freba Seconderi, a department head at the National Bank of Afghanistan. “The extra money is nice, but it’s not such a big increase if you consider what we have to spend for lunch and rush-hour transportation.”

The 55-cent wage hikes will cost the government $350,000 a day, but the added labor should more than compensate for the expenditure, said Deputy Finance Minister Gholan Nabi Farahi.

“Our people know how much has to be done to get the economy moving, and they are willing to do more,” he said, adding that the longer workday is unlikely to be the last sacrifice asked of Afghans.