Bumpy rides and rival tribes on Afghanistan's border

If he is in Pakistan, as some suspect, Osama bin Laden should be safe from capture, as long as he stays off the main roads.

That, at least, was the first thing that came to mind, when I and four other journalists - two Pakistanis, an Australian, and an American - made our way into Afghanistan a few days ago, for a two-day visit.

Although Pakistan has deployed thousands of troops and set up 300 checkpoints along the 1,500-mile border to intercept fleeing Al Qaeda fighters, we encountered no Pakistan Army soldiers - only a handful of police checkpoints that let us pass with a wave of a flashlight.

It was an object lesson in what experts said all along. The Afghan-Pakistan border, with hundreds of smuggling routes over rugged mountain passes, is porous at best, despite concerted US, allied Afghan, and Pakistani efforts. With careful planning - and most important, the right contacts - anyone who wants to cross, Arab terrorist or American journalist, can do so.

There is some risk. Pakistani officials have taken more than 100 Arabs and other non-Afghans prisoner near Tora Bora, the fallen Al Qaeda stronghold. Dozens reportedly escaped yesterday after seizing weapons from their captors in the northwestern town of Parachinar, Pakistan. At least seven people were reported killed.

Our trip began farther south, in the village of Pishin, Pakistan, in the mud-walled home of Ahmedullah Alizai. As head of the small but influential Alizai tribe, he has been chosen as a minister in the interim Afghan government set to take office Saturday in Kabul.

His men would be our guides and guards along the 10-hour journey through Pakistan's tribal areas, across the mountain border, and finally to the Alizai stronghold, the Afghan town of Maruf in the far southeast corner of Kandahar Province.

In Pishin, our host was not Mr. Alizai, but his cherubic 10-year-old son, Mirwais. All but a few of the Alizai men had already journeyed to Maruf.

With unsettling maturity, Mirwais orders up a feast of spicy lamb, chicken kebabs, cauliflower, and flatbread. In a traditional Afghan guest room with pomegranate-colored carpets and cushions on the floor, we eat and plan the trip to Maruf. Departure time is set for 5 a.m. During dinner, Mirwais sits beneath a picture of his great-grandfather, a former minister in the Afghan government of the exiled king, Mohammad Zahir Shah.

Later that evening, we receive an unexpected visitor, a member of the Kakar tribe, a rival to the Alizais. Ostensibly, he's come to engage in the ancient ritual of gup-shup, or gossip, and to trade stories that make all the men laugh.

During the half-hour visit, he asks about the foreigners propping themselves on cushions in the room. The Alizais, trading nervous glances, say we are journalists from America who want to visit Afghanistan.

When the Kakar leaves, the Alizais hurriedly change our travel plans. The Kakars could cause problems, they say, and even lay an ambush to try to embarrass them.

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