Survey: Onar and Waksher, Badakshan

We headed east to Baharak to find remote villages to survey. Baharak is an ancient village that has been a place that traders stop on the way north and south for as long as anyone can remember. It feels like dropping into another time and place. Badakshan's war stopped when the Russians left so the province-as impoverished as it is-has been recovering for over eight years now, economy supported by opium production.

We spent the night with Myroweis's family in a little pastoral farm compound with cow,calf and chickens next door. The father is a laboratory technician. This was a progressive family although extremely devout muslims and I had the chance to experience the daily rythym of life in the country for a family. Mom had ten kids, with two sets of twins. She was a couple years younger than I, and we discovered on birth control which is unusual and shows how forward thinking and considerate the father was. In the evenings we would be treated to a delicious meal prepared by mom and daughters in an outdoor kitchen. Mahbouba and I would eat with the men and then quickly retire to spend time with the women. Guests in Afghanistan are pampered and spoiled. Our hostess and daughters and neighbors daughters would help us wash and then tuck us into our "Tushaks" covered by heavy quilts. Then the best part of their day began while they talked to us about our lives and opinions and problems. We could have as many as 20 sitting around us listening to Mahbouba. It was the one time I was grateful not to be too fluent in farsi as after along day on survey it was difficult to entertain. Mahbouba was indefatigable, thank god, and we learned so much from our night time chats.

Morning would come with tea, naan, and local honey...a delicious breakfast and we would wake to the same audience and more questions. Afghans do not have the same concept of privacy that we do in the west and it all seemed very normal to them to be intimately involved in all aspects of their guests comfort.

Our survey took us to two villages that were on the road toward the "Wakkan Corridor" near the Chinese border. I am so sorry I wasn't able to get pictures of Onar. When I visit these villages I am struck by how we as westerners define wealth in terms of money and possessions. So a village like this is impoverished by our definition. But these issues are so much more complex. This little village is perched on a mountain between mountains and is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The people greeted us at the base of the hill near the river and i was struck by a sense of peace and community like I never experience in my own country. Compounds were piled high with mounds of straw in preparation for winter. The herds could be seen on the hills up above the village although I suspect they will all be moved in when snow arrives. In the golden afternoon harvest sun, the village was honey colored and earthtoned as it was built of the adobe mud. Villagers were sweet and welcoming. We were escorted to the house of one of the elders, entry way by mounds of dried manure that will be fuel in winter. I sank into the pillows offered and thought I could stay for a week.

We interviewed the women who were self-effacing and humble. They told us that they were a backward and uneducated people. No one was able to go to school. Five women in a community of 60 families died from childbirth in the last year. Mahbouba and I had them name them and tell us about them so that we could make sure they hadn't picked a number. Whereas I was struck by the loss and the harshness of their life, there is nothing pathetic about the Afghan people. In these conversations I can only admire and enjoy their company. There is a richness to their lives that they cannot recognize given they have experienced nothing else. I so hope that progress can come to them to alleviate the hardship and tragedy without them losing their sweetness. This is the Afghanistan that I want people to know about. You cannot find this in Kabul-one has to be willing to travel and so few expats who are in charge of development projects are able or willing to.

Mahbouba, as always was a treat to them. No matter how cranky and discouraged she is when she starts talking with the women all is forgotten. She usually has a toothless "Bibi" who sits by her holding her hand while she interviews. They all feel special when she is finished and it will be along time before they forget her.

The next day we traveled an arduous three hours straight up the mountains to Waksher village by donkey. Traumatic for me. I made a quite a name for myself by walking the entire way up and refusing to ride the donkey assigned me. The donkey owner kept up a steady stream of abuse the entire trip to the point that when we went back down I told him that his language made me blush and I would give him "baksheesh" if he would not hit the donkeys on the way down. He indignantly told me that Afghans know how to care for their animals. Which did not endear him to me. The only thing this skinny little mean man had going for him in my book is his willingness to carry Mahbouba's purse which he did so with a flourish.

This also was not Dr. Sami's best day as he insisted on fasting- apparently travelers are able to break their Ramazan fast as Allah insists that under no circumstances should fasting be done in such a way that the devote be under such stress as to be unkind to others. Dr. Sami whined and complained all the way up the mountain- when I drank out of the stream he asked me if I didn't feel sorry for him because of his fast-an astonshing concept to me as I was under the impression that it was his choice. A full day of Afghan style melodrama from him wore me out more than the hike. On the way back down he hopped on his donkey and took off with the donkey owner-leaving Mahbouba and I to pick our way alone down a treacherous slope. I caught up with him and inflicted a good dose of guilt provoking imprecations on him. He, of course, was unmoved. When I pointed out the place that supposedly a sheep was eaten by a wolf the last evening and asked him "what if that happened to us and you were a mile down the hill?!!!" He replied unrepententedly "If I was with you what could I have done against a wolf?" I finally quit reasoning with him and told him always to be within my eyesight which unfortunately also put me within hearing range of his whining. These were the moments that tested us.

We were sore and tired and so grateful to be back in our friends home in Baharak that night.