Second day in the Panjshir-Colin

5/14/07
Today we woke up to Mabouba shrieking “what a beautiful day, oh I love this place so much” at 5:30 in the morning. I had slept quite terribly the previous night and though tired, was looking forward to the coming day. We drank a couple of cups of coffee and set on our way. Our goal was to reach a small village a ways up-river and do a survey of their access to the radio programming on Equal Access and the affectiveness of the civil-rights programs being provided.


The wonderful blacktop road ended about a mile up-river from the community we were staying in. So much for that little bit of luck, as it turned into what we had originally predicted; terrible, narrow and rocky. As we were trying to get through a section of the road cut high above the rushing river we came upon a car coming the opposite direction. Nisar, who is not a very good driver, did not do what he should have done when the on-coming car pulled off to the side. He stopped where he was instead of trying to pass on the cliff-side, obviously not confident enough to get around. He would have been fine but I guess prudence is a virtue in most situations such as these. He also knew that if he came anywhere close to the edge Mabouba would have bitten his head off. Instead the oncoming car came right up to us, where there was no option for passing. The driver got out of his car and came up to ours. He took one look at me and passed by my door to open up my mom’s and have words with us. I just about leapt out of the car, the audacity of aggressively opening a woman’s door instead of mine to try and intimidate us. I am not at all a violent man, but in this case my blood started to get a little hot and I got ready to open my door to get in the man’s way. Luckily Mabouba started talking to him in pharsi and he was caught aback, changing his tone to a less hostile one, asking for us to back our car up a way.
This little incident aside, we continued up-river asking directions to our village. Wow, the Pansher is beautiful. Green terraced hillsides and quaint villages above a raging river with snowcapped mountains in the distance. This area was much more intact, as the last war to touch this area was that against the Russians. The Taliban had been kept out of the region by the Northern Alliance and Massoud throughout their domination of most of the rest of Afghanistan. The difference between this and other areas of Afghanistan was clear. Walls and building were in better shape, looking well formed and older. The people had a different attitude as well, not quite as humbled by their difficult experiences; I found them intelligent, strong, confident and engaging. The Pansher people are quite varied in their appearances, some with red or blond hair, blue eyes and fair features. They are an outgoing people even to the point of being obnoxiously so, which is saying a lot for someone used to the Afghan nature.
We wound our way further up river, with the road getting worse as we went higher up. At some points we were literally driving in the riverbed with a couple of water crossings necessary. One of these was with water up to the middle of the doors. I was a bit nervous, especially with someone else driving. I didn’t want to get stuck up here with no other cars to back us up. I had to teach Nasir how to use 4-wheel drive properly and how to get through these water crossings. We did not have a proper exhaust system for this kind of stuff, but we made it anyways, luckily.
At one point we picked up a young boy whose mother asked us to take him to the village that was our endpoint. He was courteous and quiet, riding in the way-back of the SUV we were driving, helping us find our way. This last part of the drive was especially slow given the condition of the road, but oh was the scenery beautiful. We finally came to the end and the village we were looking for. As we emptied the car in the middle of the small bazaar, we were immediately circled by about 40 of the villagers, primarily men and boys. I usually get a little wary in these circumstances but everyone seemed just curious about us, especially me. I always draw the most attention in these situations and am getting used to it. I just affect the attitude of being kind and generous, yet they had better not mess with me, or the women I am traveling with. Given my size and with my sunglasses, I think they usually at first take me for a bodyguard of some sorts, which is fine with me. Let them think I’m carrying a gun under my vest until I’m sure that their intentions towards us are not malicious. As in every other meeting with a new village I’ve had, things went well and we were accepted to be good people. I let my guard down and smiled a bunch, saying hello to all the little boys and shaking their hands, which they think is a hoot.
Mabouba eventually found out that the radio transmitter was located in the cultural center and controlled by a madrassa. This was located far up the hillside, necessitating a walk. As we started walking up, with a boy and a man as guides, it became apparent that it was going to be a little too difficult for Mabouba (who is 59) to make it much farther up the difficult trail. We got to a point where it was cool and shady and told the boy to bring the Malawi down to us.
While we were waiting for the interview, a woman and her daughter showed up. Mabouba called her over and began asking her about herself and her access to the radio. This woman looked to be about 35, had 16 children and was quite beautiful though a bit worn out by the difficult life she had had. She was very affectionate with Mabouba, telling her all about her life with her husband and asking if we could come up to her house for chai and food. We declined the request, but she talked with Mabouba for quite a while until the Malawi showed up. It was apparent that her access to the programming was not very good, but she would be interested in it. It would help if the programs were at 8:00 pm after the work was done and the electricity was turned on for a few hours. This was taken note of.
The Malawi showed up with a few other young men and some young boys that had been hanging around came and followed. Mabouba began interviewing the man, who was a typical religious leader with big black beard and white hat. I have yet to have any good encounters with men that have big black beards but this one went all right. He described the educational programs for the girls of the village and the access to the radio programming. They can get the program up on the hillside, but tape it for people to listen to in the bottom of the valley. At least this is what he claimed. He also claimed that around 600 girls were getting an elementary education in his and the surrounding villages, with half-day shifts of classes. This seems like a large number given how small the village is; yet I guess it is possible. Hopefully he’s telling us the truth and not just what we want to hear. They are not teaching women, just young girls up to the age of about 10 years. I guess this is a start in a country that for the past decade previous to the fall of the Taliban allowed no female education whatsoever. This meeting went okay, however I have some doubts as to the commitment this man has to equal education for both boys and girls.
The madrassas have often been the focus of aid from the West as of late. I believe this stems from a hope that if we incorporate the Islamic religious centers into our system of aid that our credibility in the Muslim world will be increased. While earning credibility with other countries in the region is important, it should not be done at the expense of the individuals we are supposedly trying to help. What can we expect from local leaders of whose interpretation of their religion and the cultural context of that interpretation is contrary to our ideals of equality and civil rights. I’m not saying that they should be left out; they should be incorporated, but monitored closely if they are the ones that are supposed to distribute our aid. Otherwise we will once again end up backing the wrong faction. At what point do we stand up and say, “these are important items that our aid should be contingent upon”? I’m not sure what the answer is. It’s a very sticky situation, as we don’t want to be seen as imposing our own views on the rest of the world. However, I am firm in the belief of individual rights for women, men, children, ethnic/religious minorities and all members of society that wish to live peaceably within such. Do we have the right to impose these very basic views? I hope so, but am not sure that everyone agrees with me. Most Americans would, however some religiously strictured societies might disagree and we have to respect this to a certain extent. We cannot force change upon people, it has to be desired from within. If the people desire it then we should do what we can to help produce change. If not, leave them to their own devices. Unfortunately those within a society that usually have the loudest voice are not typically those who need to be protected, but the ruling class that want things to stay as they are. When we do decide to interfere it needs to be thoroughly researched and thought out, for the good of all members of a society. As of late, we have too often listened to the voices we want to hear, to back the cause we want to enforce.
We finished up the interview and made our way slowly down the hillside. We left the village, picking up an old man needing a ride down-river. I was glad to not know pharsi for once as he talked Mabouba’s ear off the entire time. He was a nice old man but absolutely would not stop talking the whole way. We dropped him off in one of the villages and continued on, wanting to make our deep river crossing before the water came up in late afternoon. We made the crossing and stopped for some lunch under the shade of a large mulberry tree. We watched some men working on reinforcing a retaining wall damaged by the spring floods. They were playing as much as working, splashing each other with water and generally having a good time.
After lunch we continued on to our guesthouse, all quite hot, dusty and tired. I took quite a nap, falling into a deep sleep. We had one more piece of business; to go back to a cultural center we had been at the previous day and collect a letter from the director that would be used to fundraise for the program developed the day before. When we arrived he was not there, as he was attending to the death of four people that had driven off the road when their driver tried to pass by a goatherd. He apparently put the car in the river and everyone drowned in the rushing water. This was very sad and totally avoidable. As we were leaving to go back to the guest house the man showed up and promised to work on the letter and get it to Mabouba in Kabul.
That night we relaxed in our guesthouse and I cooked a dinner of pasta with red-sauce. It was simple but good. We went to bed early, getting ready for the 5:30 wake-up call that was bound to come the next morning from Mabouba. We were to head back to Kabul in the morning, looking forward to showers and fresh clothes.

The Panjshir-Northern Alliance stronghold...by Colin

5/13/07
Mabouba her driver Nisar, mom and I traveled up to Pansher Province today. Mom and Mabouba are completing their survey work for Equal Access Radio. A program was developed a year and a half ago to provide civil rights workshops for primarily women in several provinces, both by radio and in person. The two of them would go into the communities and evaluate the effectiveness of these workshops as well as access to the radio transmissions. Their project is transitioning a bit due to their observations. Mabouba is going to be doing a weekly radio address on public access, focusing on the things that Afghans are doing right in their country as well as what is needed further. Much of their attention at this point seems to be on women, however this will likely turn into a broader focus on Afghanistan, men women and children included.
Trying to get out of Kabul was difficult as someone of importance was being transported in or around the international area in the center of the city near the UN compound. The police and soldiers block off huge sections of the city when this happens, bringing traffic flow to a halt. It may seem reasonable to those requiring the security, yet it really pisses people off. This is definitely not good for relations with the locals. Nisar took some back roads and eventually got us to the highway leading north out to the Shomali plain.
This was my second trip through the Shomali and it was interesting looking upon it with more practiced eyes. This area is the traditional battleground for wars in Afghanistan as it is the northern route into Kabul. It was continually devastated and then rebuilt. Mines, as always in this country are a problem and clearing work continues. There are many relics left over from the war depicted by rusting tanks and blown out buildings. Yet, amongst this you can witness the industriousness of the Afghan people. They are replanting their fields and rebuilding structures. Grape vines seem to be a primary crop, at least along the highway. The whole plain seems to have good access to water, it is lush and green at least this time of the year. Duchans (small stores) spring up all along the highway, yet as is typical they all hold the same stuff, usually right next to each other.
It’s interesting that not many afghans seem to collaborate their resources into larger, better operations. This seems to be part of the independent spirit of these people, no one wanting to work for another. They all want to be their own boss, which is commendable, yet I’m not sure if it is good for the development of the country. At a certain point people need to be willing to compile their resources to project themselves into a larger operation with greater gain for all in the long run. I’m not saying that the U.S is the perfect model of capitalism, yet some things have been figured out. Imagine if every person that would work in a supermarket were to instead try to own their own tiny little market, all right next to each other selling the same limited assortment of things. They would only end up competing with each other, underselling their neighbors. Instead, maintain a “monopoly” on the area and work together, keeping the prices at a level that will sell the goods for profit. Again, this is only a cursory look at the matter, yet I have repeatedly seen this phenomenon in Afghanistan. There are whole streets of small mechanic workshops, all right next to each other. Butchers right next to each other, and what I call “crap stores” all selling the same thing right next to each other. Instead they could build a single large mechanic workshop or butchery and probably be more efficient and make more money in the long run. However this would require people following someone else’s directions, “electing” a leader, which is definitely a problem for Afghans. These people don’t like to be under anyone else’s rule.
We turned off the highway and drove into the Kapisa district, stopping to have yet another lunch of kabobs. I’ve finally gotten used to the traditional version where they sandwich the meat around a piece of fat. Neither mom nor Mahbouba like it, yet I find it a little tasty, as long as I don’t think about it too much and just wrap the whole thing in naan.
From Kapisa we passed through a canyon that is the entrance to the Pansher region. We had to pass by a guard station; they took one look at me and made us stop for further questioning. They didn’t know what to think of us; I looked dubious to them with my red hair and sunglasses, camera in my lap wearing traditional dress. Mom says they thought I was some sort of bad-assed afghan. I usually take my sunglasses off when I get to these stations, yet forgot to in this case. We eventually got ushered through. As we traveled up the Pansher Valleys we followed a raging river that looked like it would be a blast to raft/kayak through. Truly, if the safety concerns weren’t there Afghanistan could one day have a booming adventure travel business. I have rarely seen such whitewater, especially with good access to roads. They all do because that’s where people live in Afghanistan, in the valley bottom, irrigating off of the main rivers that will run through the dry months.
The Pansher region is a safe area for Americans to be in and I feel very little animosity. They were the main component of the Northern Alliance under the leadership of Massoud that the U.S backed financially and militarily to overturn the Taliban. It is obvious that these people are flush with capital at the moment. Compared to the road up to Bamian this region has a perfect, new blacktop with guardrails along the river side. It’s so much easier to travel on. There are many new buildings being constructed, not cheaply either. The military presence here is excessive and well organized, much more so than even in Kabul. It sounds like though they wear the same uniforms as the other regions, they are essentially under their own direction. President Karzai seems to project that he has control of this area, but I’m not so sure. If it came down to it I’m not so sure that the soldiers in this area would not just abandon the needs of Afghanistan for those of their own region. They had a lot of money and arms given them by the U.S. and have probably retained control of most of these. Is it smart to have regional armies under the control of warlords in the guise of ministers?
We came into a small, but tidy village and met with the first person that Mabouba wanted to interview. He is the headmaster of a madrassa (religious school). Most of the discussion was in Dari, yet I could tell things weren’t going well. Mabouba was asking the man if he was using the transmitter that Equal Access had provided the school. It appears they don’t. The man was not very receptive to our presence, I could tell that much. After the interview ended and we were back in the car, Mabouba went off about the man. Apparently he was disdainful of us, even Mabouba, seeing her as a Khereji who left the country in a time of need. He was not going to help us find accommodations in the village. This was ridiculous, Mabouba was placed in prison before she was released and allowed to escape the country; he likely would have fled if he could have. He outright said we should not stay in the village because we were not welcome. He did not want us painting the picture of his people needing help from internationals. He was afraid of how he would be thought of in the village and elsewhere. Mom and Mabouba were literally stunned by the man’s attitude. They had not once been treated in this manner and it was thoroughly un-Afghan.
Mabouba said that this was a bad sign, as the headmaster was a young afghan man and that she was afraid it was going to be a prevailing attitude in the region. She said that the un-graciousness, even if he did disagree with our mission was unheard of and an indication of a lack of elders teaching their youngsters the Afghan way. She was literally afraid for Afghanistan if this was any sort of indication of the mood of other young people in her country. We left that village with a bad taste in our mouth, a little nervous about what we were going to find further up river.
We came into the next village and found the cultural center. I could tell mom and Mabouba were a little apprehensive as to what they would find. We were ushered into a room to meet a middle-aged afghan man and what seemed to be a couple of his assistants. Again not much was translated for me, but mom kept me abreast of the general happenings. I could see Mabouba relax almost immediately and we were received well. She began telling the man about her radio project and asking the man about how well the civil rights workshops had been received. Apparently they have no transmitter in this village, but Mabouba said she would be petitioning Equal Access to remove the one from the previous village and have it re-placed there. During the interview the man told Mabouba about his educational projects. There was a great dialogue where Mom gave the man some good ideas for programs to develop his children’s voice on the radio. Program development occurred right then and there with a grant proposal forthcoming in which they will try to get funding for the children of this village to make their own radio shows. It will be an offshoot of Mabouba’s weekly radio program and seems like a great addition. We had, after the encounter in the first village been considering heading back to Kabul this evening, yet the man suggested a guest house further upriver that would allow us to stay in the region and get more work done tomorrow. They will meet again on our way out and further develop their grant proposal for the children’s program. We had to go to the police station and get permission from the regional deputy to stay, but that went well.
As we traveled upriver we were wondering what the guesthouse would be like. I was prepared for anything and not really expecting a whole lot. We finally stopped outside the compound walls and it didn’t look good, but at least we would have a place to stay. As we were ushered in, entered the house and looked at our accommodations. We were stunned; it was great, clean rooms, a bathroom and a kitchen with even a comfortable living room. The nice man who was the owner said we could pay what we thought fit. We really couldn’t believe our luck as we were all prepared to stay in a mud room with dusty floors and terrible beds. Not only was it clean and comfortable, but right along the river. Apparently the man was a friend of Massoud and the home was once used as the Foreign Ministry of the Northern Alliance, go figure.
The ladies went down and sat by the river, debriefing and I wandered around taking pictures, free to do my own thing in safety. A wonderful end to what started out as a difficult day. Tomorrow, given our accommodations we will be able to travel far up the valleys to an area that mom and Mabouba want to survey. I think I will like this region; it is absolutely beautiful, clean and actually fairly well developed. It is what all of Afghanistan could look like if the aid were evenly distributed.