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"Kabul, Afghanistan." ?Posted by devon on Friday, June 11, 2004
round 3.
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Ominously, the traffic on the road was made up mainly of rugged, allweather SUV's and Jeeps. I was in a run down minibus, but it seemed sturdy enough, though I did spend the entire trip expecting a blowout or breakdown . The road meandered around and over rocks and boulders, making for a bumpy ride which was more than made up for by the scenery and landscapes. The Afghan villages seemed to reach levels of quaint rural beauty that surpassed even some Tibetan towns. The sturdy yet ramshackle looking mudbrick houses persisted, with small covered children running around amongst their Burka'd mothers and bearded fathers. The faces (ones that you could see) were facinating, such a mix of asiatic, ayrian and middle eastern features, made more prominent by large monochromatic turbans and long, carefully trimmed beards. About two bumpy hours in, we stopped for the driver to make some adjustments under the hood and I decided that I would follow the other passengers off down to the river. The women I mentioned dissapeared off the bend so they could not be seen, and I was left to wash my face in the refreshingly cool river water with the other, younger male passengers. I joked around with them, making up one of the kids hair before I took a photo, and indulged myself in washing off my dusty face with the icy cold water. The light was just failing and enriched the beautiful green that clung to the riverbed against the dry, brown hills behind. Before long we were off again, and after a brief passage through a rugged stone gorge, we passed into a large system of arable plains and that meant people. This is where I started to get my first real impressions of Afghanistan.
Along the way I saw my first camel caravans. Long trains of elephant sized camels and donkeys packed to the nines with the drivers goods. I quickly sensed that these people were nomads. There would have been no other reason for them to be travelling on such remote roads in such a manner. I saw three or four on the way there and I was glued to the window each time. As we passed them, sheilded from the wild dust storms that were hammering against out windows, I looked out to them and felt transported. I couldn't believe I was laying eyes on such a thing. I was happy to be in Afghanistan.
After arriving into the rural areas that straddled the riverbed, one of my first thoughts was that the area seemed like a playground for the international aid community. Quite literally no less than every 20 to 50 meters was a sign with your choice of european flag on it, and a brief description in english detailing what they were doing. The projects ranged from the seemingly massive scale "OMAR", a demining agency, to small european NGOs conducting irrigation rehabilitation programs. The road was littered with brand new shiny Toyota Discoveries or Land Cruisers with pudgy, pale european men inside. I was simply amazed at how widespread the aid was and wondered more seriously at the sheer volume of money that they were injecting into the small rural villages.
My second impression was the military presence. The most shocking reminders of Afghanistans war torn yesterday came first in the form of an abandond tank (I've seen many, many more since), then as a blistered and crumbling concrete skeleton. I figured it must have been quite a large building that had seen way, way too many bombs and gunshots. I'd never seen a building that had been blown up before, but this one had doubtlessly met its fate in this manner. Quite a few of the NGO trucks had military jeeps in tow packed with a few armed guards, or in a few case, soldiers riding in the back seat with their rifles pointed out of the windows. I remember passing a lot of large fortified compounds that seemed to increase in frequency the closer we got to Jallalabad, the halfway city between pakistan and Kabul you may have heard about on the news. They all flew the colours of the current afghan government, which made me presume that they were national military, but I just couldnt know. What I did know is that they were well dug in and looked pretty sinister from the outside. The compounds mostly had bombproof walls with men in full body armour posted in pillboxes at the entrance as well as in towers inside the compound.
We entered into Jallalabad, and I didnt regret my decision to pass through instead of breaking the journey to avoid arriving in Kabul at night. It was a one story maze of dirty streets, open sewers and shanty shops. It more or less held up the image of a city sized slum. I smiled dryly as we passed a very large steel globe with all the countries named in arabic script in what sadly must have been the center of town. I imagined that the UNDP or some other governing agency had erected it to inform the bedraggled population exactly where all these foreigners helping them out came from. Every third car was a shiny new SUV proudly proclaiming in block letteres on the doors what international agency it belonged to. And these people keep wondering why they get shot up all the time.
After jallalabad the light began to really go, darkness fell and my ablities of observation were abruptly made useless. A few military humvees passed us noisily along the way and I remember seeing the odd oxcart or camel train in the headlights between exaustion induced naps. When we finally reached the outskirts of Kabul, we were deposited in a minibus station and two of the passengers got into a cab with me to take me to the hotel that I had planned to go to. I was dropped off first and walked into my new home exausted and exuding dust from every pore. They eyed me wearily, I didnt know how to deal with these new people, so when they offered a proposterous sum for a room, I tried to bargain, but nothing was to be had. I lugged my bags all the way up to the 6th floor, and wasn't prepared to lug them down, so I had to accept. I went downstairs and was charged a even more extortionate sum for my very uninspired lamb stew with bread, which made me think i was being played for the fool. I kicked up a fuss with waiter who looked like a villain to begin with, and to this day we are not friends. So my presence at the Zarnigar hotel was established, and thank god at least their beds were soft, if not completely infested with lice. I was dirty as a hog, and felt dirtier still because I couldnt have my wash. The bathrooms should have bourne a sign "for the love of god dont come into this room, it be damned". But instead all they said was "male" in arabic letters. I thought that was a bit of a far cry, those rooms of terror were definitely fit for no human, male OR female. But you get what you pay for..... no, no in fact I was being ripped off. Robbed is the better word.
I fell into a nice, deep sleep after a day of complete and utter insanity that started in One of Pakistans wilder cities, and ended up in the war ragaved capital of Afghanistan. Looking back I can hardly believe the two places exist in the same universe, let alone that I, me, little old me managed to traverse them in just over 13 hours.
It didnt take long for Afghanistan to open its doors to me in a very, very disturbing way.
Read all about it in my next post. Hopefully I'll get my Visa tommorow and they're wont be one, but just in case..... keep your hopes up, or down.
TTFN
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