Zahir Shah, unhappy with how his cousin was governing the country, which was falling into chaos, drafted a new constitution that barred members of the royal family from holding positions in the government. Daoud was forced to resign. The new prime minister, Dr. Mohammad Yusuf, had been a classmate of Uncle Ali at Nedjat High School. Dr. Yusuf named Uncle Ali his deputy prime minister and minister of education. At the same time, Zahir Shah appointed my father to the Senate.
The new constitution created a two-house Parliament: a one hundred–seat Wolesi Jirga (House of the People), elected by the people; and a twenty-eight-seat Meshrano Jirga (House of the Elders, known as the Senate), appointed by the king. But it had a fundamental flaw—it did not really give any power to the people. The king appointed the prime minister, the king appointed the senators, the king appointed the Cabinet members, and as commander in chief, the king controlled the military.
Afghanistan had a new constitution, but the rivalry between the United States and Russia had not changed. They continued to compete to win Afghanistan’s favor. A U.S. airline, Pan Am, provided new planes for Ariana Afghan Airlines. Russia not only provided weapons and military equipment but also agreed to build a nuclear reactor to counter the nuclear capabilities of America’s ally Pakistan.
But the greatest weapon Russia was given in its battle to control Afghanistan was contained in the king’s new constitution: the right to form political parties.
We were in Jalalabad on our winter break when the king invited Baba to lunch at the Winter Palace. Baba took me along with him, of course, so I would not miss this opportunity to learn. I was surprised to see dozens of other guests. “Why so many people?” I asked my father.
“When the king is in Jalalabad, he invites all of the tribal chiefs and many elders for miles around to meet with him for lunch. A wise king listens to his people.”
A servant appeared in a bright white shirt and white-gloved hands and set a plate of food before the king. Then a strange thing happened. A man standing next to the king started eating the king’s food before the king or anyone else had taken a bite.
“Why is that man eating the king’s food?” I asked Baba.
“Not now,” my father whispered, and I immediately held my tongue.
After we left the Palace, I asked my father about what I had seen.
“When the king travels from the Palace in Kabul, many who work in the kitchen are unknown to him. The man you saw is the king’s food taster, who makes sure the king’s meal has not been poisoned.”
“The king must not think much of him if he doesn’t care if he gets poisoned,” I said.
“Nay,” Baba said. “The king’s taster is a very powerful man from the Panjshir Valley. His job is an honor, and most important, he has the ear of the king.”