یک امریکایی درافغانستان

Buzkashi

2012-01-17T00:28:00.000-08:00

Last week I hopped in the car on a crystalline blue day and traveled 45 minutes out of Kabul to witness Afghanistan’s national pastime: buzkashi. If you’ve ever seen Rambo III (and if you haven’t you are missing out), there’s a scene where Sylvester Stallone is chilling in an Afghan village when a game of buzkashi starts up. Essentially, it involves an unlimited number of horsemen, a headless goat, and dangerous levels of testosterone. As the movie so accurately portrayed, the horsemen battle each other to grab hold of the goat, gallop around a distant flag, and then bring it back and drop it into a ring on the ground. While in Rambo the game is interrupted by a squadron of Russian helicopters that strafe and bomb the village before eventually being shot down by JR’s explosive arrows, my experience was slightly less eventful (but only slightly).

The buzkashi game I witnessed was sponsored by the Afghan Vice-President, General Mohammed Qasim Fahim, who has built his own personal stadium in the outskirts of Kabul. Along the way to his coliseum of sorts, we passed groups of men on horseback, trotting tranquilly northwards in the freezing weather. Later, as the game wore into its third hour of mayhem, I understood why these men were in no great hurry to get to the stadium: buzkashi is as much a game of attrition and endurance as it one of skill and bravado, and it’s no great loss if you miss the first hour of being lashed by whips and crushed by horses.

A few things made this particular day especially epic for buzkashi play. For one, there was a massive turnout of riders. I counted more than a hundred men milling about before the game started. So it was with some incredulity that I learned the entire group would play at once, all fighting for possession of the dead beast. Also, the stadium was blanketed in snow. This meant that after about 15 seconds of 400 hooves churning about, the stadium had become a giant mud pit, creating a demolition derby effect for the crowd. Thirdly, the Vice-President himself attended the event, which meant we were not only protected by at least 50 heavily armed guards spread out in a 1 mile radius, but he brought along a coterie of wealthy businessmen that showered the players with cash prizes ranging from $60 to $500.

I should also mention that of my perhaps 400 fellow bloodthirsty spectators, there were remarkably few (ie zero) women present. I’m still trying to understand how buzkashi wouldn’t appeal to the female crowd….ideas? Anyway, there was one interesting moment when one player, tired of being smacked by other people’s whips in his efforts to pick up the muddy goat carcass, wheeled his horse and started flaying about with his own whip. This sparked an all-out brawl between what appeared to be the Panjshir crowd (wearing iconic red jackets) and the Kabul team (in blue), but eventually just degenerated into everybody hitting everyone else. Things only calmed down when a group of riders broke off and started playing again, winning cash prizes, and the aggrieved put aside their feuding in their continued pursuit of status and hard currency. If you squint a little, you can see the parallels there with Afghan history…

Jalalabad

2012-01-10T23:21:00.000-08:00

I visited the city of Jalalabad a few days ago, traversing some incredibly high and narrow mountain passes to arrive at the eastern commercial center. Along the way, we drove through an area called Maheepar Pass which in Dari means "Flying Fish." Apparently when the road was being built, a construction worker saw a fish leap from the river and fly a great distance, and it's been known as Maheepar ever since. Much of eastern Afghanistan is still troubled by insecurity and fighting with the Taliban, and we could see signs of this in the burned out fuel tankers that sat along the road. Some had been hit by rockets, others by sniper bullets, but it was clear that this was still a contested area. Further along, we (my guide, driver and I) encountered numerous heavily armored convoys patrolling the highway and almost everywhere we looked were individual soldiers, standing guard in the most remote mountain redoubts.

As just a quick aside, I should mention that for the past hour there have been constant explosions and gunfire coming from about a mile away across town. My guide tells me that it's either training at a military camp or the city is once again under attack. Guess I'll find out tomorrow!

But anyway, we eventually made it to Jalalabad, which is an incredibly lively and exciting place; you can feel the influence of neighboring Pakistan in everything from the endless procession of 3 wheeled rickshaws, to the ubiquitous Pashto language flying about. It's also quite lush as the elevation is lower, so I was able for a brief and joyous spell to shed my heavy coat and gloves and savor the balmy 55 degree weather. As a consequence, Jalalabad is a major food supplier to the colder parts of the country, and everywhere you looked were stands selling fruits, vegetables, and an endless assortment of spices. One of the downtown markets:

After a good deal of driving about, some shopping and other touristic activities, we hopped back on the road and headed out of town, passing by one of the many zeppelin style weather balloons that the CIA floats above majors cities to spy on insurgents. (No photo, sorry!) It's interesting to look at the road between Kabul and Jalalabad, because in the direction headed to Kabul, the asphalt is completely rutted and broken down, whereas in the other direction the road is smooth. This is apparently due to the thousands of fully loaded trucks that travel from Pakistan every day, carrying consumer goods and the occasional smuggled arms shipment. For the moment, trade is apparently not a two way street between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

There was one slightly harrowing moment in our return trip, when night had fallen and we were cruising along at 60mph and suddenly bright lights obstructed our path. My driver, in classic fashion, starts blaring his horn at the offending vehicle, only to realize that it's one of those 15 ton war machines with the giant guns bristling from both ends. Naturally, the tank-like thing swivels its turret at us and there's this time stopping moment when it considers our tiny white Toyota Corolla as a killer whale might consider a guppy, and then finding us non-threatening, it rumbled away into the desert. One collective sigh of relief later and off we went again, weaving in and out of Pakistani 18 wheelers toward Kabul.

Also, my trip to J-bad was my first time sporting local dress. Here's a photo of me next to the father of Afghan independence, Amanullah Khan:

The Lion of Panjshir

2012-01-10T22:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Avid Readers,

I have some good updates from the ‘Stan for you today: travels to the n’er conquered Panjshir Valley, road trips to the Afghan-Pakistan border and my first trip in an armored landcruiser. Such excitement! But, I know that there’s a gripping Republican nominating contest in the US right now, so if you haven’t been inundated with the latest, please do that and check back here later.

So, accompanied by my excellent guide and driver (who will remain unnamed), I recently journeyed north to the stronghold of Ahmad Shah Masood, the “Lion of the Panjshir.” Masood is probably the most iconic resistance leader in Afghanistan today, and you can see his portrait staring down at you throughout Kabul and the northern provinces.

Like many of Afghanistan’s leaders though, he was assassinated by the Taliban, and my journey was in part a trip to see his tomb. It’s an interesting point of history that neither the Russians nor the Taliban every succeeded in capturing the Panjshir valley, and once you start winding your way along the narrow roads and beneath the massive, craggy peaks, you understand why; the area is perfect terrain to wage guerrilla warfare.

In fact, you can help but see evidence of Masood’s success in the dozens of Russian tanks and artillery pieces that litter the roadside like crushed soda cans, something of a blunt warning to would be invaders. The other great thing about the Panjshir valley is that there aren’t any Taliban to worry about, so walking around and telling people you’re American is not out of the question. Here’s a photo of Masood’s tomb in an afternoon snowstorm:

I think Ahmad Shah Masood is worth writing about because he is one of the rare Afghan leaders in recent history that not only defended his homeland against tyrant forces, but also exercised restraint around civilian populations. While other warlords didn’t hesitate to indiscriminately bomb Kabul in the 1990’s or massacre rival ethnic groups, Masood showed discipline and principle in his tactics, and I think that’s one of the main reasons he is so celebrated to this day.