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| The Bamiyan Valley is a calm retreat for Afghans and foreigners who can make the mountain ascent. Mark Sappenfield |
In Afghanistan's Bamiyan Valley, peace and a woman rule
Genghis Khan and the Taliban notwithstanding, serenity survives where peacekeepers haven't had to fire a shot since 2003.
from the October 11, 2007 edition
Page 2 of 3
I am with Farouq, my friend and colleague who accompanies me on all my Afghan travels.
"Does it get better than this?" I ask him.
He merely smiles with forbearance as my camera whirs along the constant incline as we follow the courses of creeks and rivers, until the neutral browns and grays of the Afghan palette give way to conceited greens that seem aware that they are, in this arid corner of the world, extraordinary.
Here at the check post, Afghanistan becomes Montana, Switzerland, or some other idyllic place. The 90-degree F. roast of Kabul has turned into what seems a pleasant autumn afternoon. Beside the road, the Bamiyan River gurgles serenely over slick stones . "The nature of Bamiyan puts you into deep thinking appropriate for a place of meditation," says Zemaryalai Tarzi, an archaeologist who has worked extensively in Bamiyan.
At the heart of the Bamiyan Valley rises an ancient citadel city, pale white against brush strokes of green, the seat of an empire conquered by Genghis Khan. Clearly, we are back in Afghanistan – though I must feel rather different than did Genghis Khan when he stood here 800 years ago. In his anger, he destroyed the citadel, and ever after, the wreck of a city – never rebuilt – was known as Ghulghula, or the City of Sighs.
My sigh is of relief. Here, there is no Taliban, which means that when journalists and aid workers enter the valley, their mind can shut off – freed from the constant vigilance that is Afghan life.
"Aid workers love coming here," says Jennifer Brick, a Kabul-based researcher for the Afghanistan Research and Evaluation Unit, as she munches on bread and rice in a restaurant while here to study a key government program.
Most of the New Zealander soldiers sent here to maintain peace can't believe their good fortune. Col. Roger McElwaine, commander of the Bamiyan Provincial Reconstruction Team, says it is so safe that his troops can go out on weeks-long patrols, driving to the remotest corners of the remote province to make their rounds.
When he mentions this to colleagues in other parts of the country, they're dumbfounded. In the south, for example, patrols leave the safety of their base for no more than a few hours at a time.
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