Afghanistan Peace CampaignAfghanistan Analysts Network
My origin story
My name is Nangialai. I’m 40 years old. I own a tailoring and clothing store in Timur Shahi, Kabul. My family is originally from Nangrahar, but we lived in Pakistan for many years. This is where I learned my craft more than 25 years ago. Even as a boy, I was interested in tailoring. I remember going to the bazaar in Peshawar with my father. I would stand outside the shops and watch the tailors at work. I’d tell my father: “One day I’ll be a tailor and make beautiful clothes.” But every time I mentioned it, my father would get upset. He didn’t want me going into a trade. He wanted me in school, getting a proper education. But I didn’t care much for school.
Eventually, he gave in and arranged for me to become an apprentice in a tailoring workshop. Although I had a passion for sewing, I didn’t have any skills. I started with the basics – sewing buttons on clothes – and then I progressed to ironing. I worked hard and made an effort to learn. Little by little, the master tailor I was apprenticed to began giving me children’s clothes to sew, but I still made mistakes. He was a kind and patient teacher who was very supportive, as he could see that I was trying hard. It took me years to learn tailoring, progressing from one stage to the next, with my boss entrusting me with more complex tasks.
The most challenging part of tailoring is cutting – the scissor work. I struggled to learn it at first, but after three long years, I got the hang of it. Slowly, my boss started giving me customer orders to sew from start to finish – measuring, cutting, sewing and adding those little fine touches that make the difference between adequate tailoring and quality work. He still kept an eye on me and checked my work at every stage “One mistake can ruin the whole piece,” he’d say.
Once he was satisfied that I’d learned the trade, he started paying me 5,000 Pakistani rupees (USD 18) a month. It was far too little for how hard I worked, but I stayed. I worked for him for quite a while, despite the low pay, because he was one of the most respected master tailors in Peshawar and I was learning the fine skills of tailoring from him. Eventually, with his blessing, I opened my own shop and started building a name. Business was good, customers were loyal. But then my family decided to move back to Afghanistan.
Making a go of it in Kabul
We arrived in Kabul twenty years ago, me with my tailoring kit in tow – sewing machine, scissors, tape measure, needle and thread, pencil and chalk – the essential sewing tools. I had bought those tools with money I had put away from my meagre apprentice’s wages. A sewing machine is a huge investment; a new professional-grade one can cost as much as 30,000 afghanis (USD 500).
I rented my first shop in a back alley in the Kart-e-Naw area of Kabul. In the beginning, business was very slow. People didn’t know me and the competition was stiff. I had to start making a name for myself. So I set my prices lower than other tailors and my work was top quality – even if I do say so myself. My customers, impressed with my work, started referring their friends and family to me and in time, my business grew. I spent a year working out of that shop in the back alley, but once I was more established in Kabul, I moved to the hub of tailors, Timur Shahi.
There, I partnered with someone else and we expanded the business. Alongside tailoring, we also started selling fabric. People’s interest in traditional clothes has grown over the years, and with it, the demand for good fabrics. We keep both affordable and high-end options — Indian and Pakistani — so everyone can find something in their budget.
Over time, we’ve grown the shop. I handle the sewing. My partner runs the fabric sales. We also have ten people working for us. Imagine going from a little boy dreaming of becoming a tailor to owning a thriving tailor business that supports several families.
The season for tailors
In Afghanistan, our busiest times are the two Eids — Eid ul-Fitr and Eid ul-Adha. It’s tradition to have new clothes made for these occasions. Although people are struggling financially, they still find a way to get new outfits for themselves and their children for Eid. I’m lucky. I have many customers with large families, so they come to my shop and have several outfits made. In the weeks and days leading up to these two holidays, we do a brisk business. The number of orders increases by 80 per cent compared to a normal month and we can hardly keep up. But we don’t want to disappoint any of our customers whose custom over the years has made our business flourish, so we don’t turn anyone away. I take their orders, even up to the night before Eid. In the few days before Eid, we work well into the night – all night even – only taking a break to go to the mosque for the morning prayer. We even eat standing up while we work. We keep our shop open on the first day of Eid so that our customer can pick up their clothes.
We get all kinds of orders. Some people buy ready-made clothes, while others want us to sew outfits according to their specific requirements. Some customers want very simple clothes, while others prefer embroidery (yakhandozi) or appliqué designs (goldozi), especially if they are ordering clothes for Eid. On those occasions, they ask for elaborate traditional embroideries – delicate khamkdozi designs fashioned out of white silk thread, the multicolour silk chamkdozi, the beautiful sunddozi designs that have been handed down through the generations and the most intricate of all, the yakhandozis that adorn collars, yokes and sometimes even the cuffs of shirts. This craft is fast disappearing, being replaced by less expensive (and less time-consuming) machine-stitched version. But in our shop, we have skilled craftsmen with expertise in all types of embroidery. I’m proud that I’m playing a small part in keeping this heritage alive. We also have a catalogue that we show to customers, but most of the time, customers come with their own designs and we follow them exactly.
Each type of design requires its own specialised machine and a tailor with specific skills. For example, nowadays, I only do the fabric cutting, which is the most important and difficult task in tailoring. We have another tailor who sews plain clothes, and yet another who specialises in embroidered and appliqué garments – each with their own machines. For plain clothes, we use one type of machine, while embroidery and appliqué work require completely different equipment.
These days, modern sewing machines make our work much easier. In the past, sewing machines were mostly manual. All the work had to be done by hand and it was time-consuming. But now it’s easier; the machines are electric and have better speed and functionality. This past Eid, I accepted and prepared 30 to 50 orders every day. This wouldn’t have been possible in the past. The old manual machines were constantly breaking down and we could only manage 20 outfits – if we were lucky. But now, the advanced and multi-functional machines are making tailoring easier and faster compared to the past.
How much does it cost to get a suit made?
The price for tailoring men’s clothes varies and, in general, is set by the Kabul municipality – adult clothes are 400 afghani (USD 6), and children’s clothes under the age of twelve are 250 to 300 afghani (a little over USD 3). That’s for a basic pirhan tonban (traditional long shirt and trousers) and if the customer brings the fabric himself. If he buys the fabric from us, then the cost goes up to 1,500 to 3,000 afghani (USD 22 to 45), depending on the fabric. Hand-stitched clothes are more expensive, whereas machine-stitched ones are cheaper – some machine-made shirts can cost as little as 300 Afghanis (USD 4). However, people don’t like them much because their quality is poor. They prefer handmade shirts.
Waistcoats cost between 1,200 and 2,500 Afghanis (USD 17 to 37), depending on the stitching and fabric, which affects the cost. Hand-stitched embroideries, particularly the Herati yakhan (Herati-style embroidered collars) and the Kandahari yakhan (Kandahari-style embroidered collars), are very fashionable these days. Prices for the Herati collars start at 1,500 Afghanis and go up to 3,000 Afghanis (USD 17 to 45), while the Kandahari ones, which require less hand-embroidery, range from 600 to 1,700 Afghanis (USD 9 to 25).
Every customer who comes to us to order or tailor clothes inevitably spends 20 minutes to half an hour bargaining. We understand that people are facing economic difficulties, so we have no choice but to compromise. We even give some customers a price that is below our own cost, when we understand that paying for the clothes is a struggle for them.
Paying it forward
Still, I can’t complain. For now, business is good and we are content. We haven’t had to reduce our staff and we can keep up with our practice of taking on paid apprentices. This is important to me because I remember the opportunities my first boss, the master tailor in Peshawar, gave me. Without his guidance and patience, I wouldn’t have been able to realise my dream of becoming a tailor. Now, it’s my turn to give young people who are interested in tailoring the chance to learn the trade and hopefully make a go of a shop themselves.
Edited by Roxanna Shapour