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Before the Russians invaded, Afghanistan was a country on the "overland trail". Many travellers passed though on their way to India or Europe. It was a country which had not fully entered the twentieth century.
Afghanistan
Mrg2004-09-14 17:01:23
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to accept less than the going bank rate by changing money on the street - just to get it over with.
The last visit I made to Afghanistan was in early 1976 - just a few months before the first military coup which subsequently led to the Russian invasion. I had travelled north from Karachi to Quetta in order to cross the border into Afghanistan over the Khojak Pass. I arrived too late to cross and was forced to spend the night in a little hut near the border post - I froze my ass off that night and was up bright and early next morning - well, early at least! I had my passport stamped and, as there was no transport for another three hours, I walked five miles across the pass in the snow. It was very cold but there was bright sunshine.
After negotiating the Afghan side of the border, it was on to Kandahar by bus. When I arrived, the usual hotels' touts met the bus and one guy came up to me saying "Welcome back - how's your leg?" I realised that I had stayed at this guy's hotel four years before when I had twisted my knee. How he remembered me I'll never know.
After a day in Kandahar it was off to Kabul and "Chicken St" - the hangout for travellers. There were few foreigners there as it was winter and not too many wanted to brave the cold. After a couple of days I went north to Mazar-i-Sharif. The route was through the Salang Pass and it was very cold on the bus, even with heater on. I met three Americans on the bus and we took a room in the "hotel" together when we arrived. A quilted blanket across the doorway was more efficient than a door when it came to keeping in the pitiful amount of heat our stove radiated, and firewood was scarce - and expensive. We managed to survive the night mostly due to our choice of sleeping bags.
Next day, we wandered through town to "see the sights". There were many shops with signs in Russian Cyrillic script which was not really surprising as we were not too far from the Russian border. By chance, we heard that there was a buzkashi game that afternoon so we all decided to go. I had heard of the game but, as it was played almost exclusively in the north, few travellers had actually seen it. We were unmercifully ripped off by a so-called taxi driver (bandit, more likely) - but the Americans were loaded so what did I care?
After some detours we eventually arrived after the game had started but managed to get a good position on top of a low bank - some good natured pushing and shoving, plus our status as farang were a help. As the horsemen thundered by we managed to take quite a few photos and thought it would be a good idea to get some shots from ground level. Not long after we jumped down off the bank the horsemen came back and milled around us. I shut my eyes and hoped that we would not be trampled but the horsemen were expert and charged off - into the crowd. People ran in all directions and the horsemen eventually went back to the field without anyone getting hurt. It was probably the most exiting sporting event I have ever been to - and had almost been a part of.
After the game we refused to pay what the "bandit" asked and eventually were given a lift with the military in their jeep. I was to part company with the Americans and head for the heat of India. Sadly, the film of the buzkashi was later lost and only my memories remain.
Copyright Mr Ginger
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Afghanistan Gallery
