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En route for Afghanistan…
The last days has been filled with great intensity, a mix of stress, of unknown feelings, and a mix of relief, knowing that this relief was every time temporary.. Being here is great, and each moments makes you understand the complexity and also the simplicity of our land. A vast land from the far coast of Europe to the eastern asia..
The day before coming to the border, thinking it could be it, thinking that also it might not be it, and thinking that it could be an amazing experience, being afraid about the unknown like never before, driving my mind a little crazy… But this unknown attracting like an invisible force. You feel the weight and the efforts needed to fight the prejudice that you get from your life, from the society you live in, knowing that afghani are like you, like me, like us, but still the difficulty in the mind, the lack of knowledge, the volatility of the situation there, a war zone.. I hope i never forget those feelings, these emotions that went through the mind during this night…
The night before heading to the border, thinking and thinking, calling the very close friends, her, you realize that what you have is much of a luxury, that you are lucky, and you feel incredibly thankful.
Heading for the border Panji Poyon the next day, was this mix of fear, excitement and stress, but en route. En route for Afghanistan, looking through the cab going fast along these endless green fields, it is the end of autumn, in the mirror the snowed mountains crossed a few days ago, the melancholia. Feeling strong, and feeling vulnerable.
The hotel is simple, dominating the border and the flat grounds of the province of Kunduz. Hopefully to be crossed it the next day, constantly thinking, “Inch Allah’”, hopefully. Dressed up as local, i hope it will help too. The unknown is scary, thoughts are tumbling, some music, some pictures, and the stars up in the sky, reassuring, small we are.. lucky we are…
Waking up, the border was not too long, a few questions, the stamps, a Tadjik head to Kabul too, good news.. he helps me out, and we start heading for Kunduz, the fear slows down, as we go through the plains, a few check points, reassured by the fact that i go almost, in the landscape.
Along the road the old mens, their great stature, in their pashto, their hats, the kids, the shops, it is decades back in time. With the fog surrounding, the scenery is as you could imagine it. After an hour, we finally reach the outskirts of the city, the “dodgy” place as they say.. Just a quick stop, the old Tadjik men deals a car for the capital, and on we are, overwelhmed by all these people, this agitation, nothing like i saw before, India look a like in the mess, thats all. the contrast of coming from the old soviet union is very strong. But this contrast is fabulous. Feeling an intense happiness to be there, and an intense luck, two young men come in, the guys asked something in Dari, understanding that i couldn’t speak their language, they ran out of the car, a little argument after, the other taxi mens reassure them, all was settled, into the unknown we were on for the 300km through Afghanistan.
The landscape is a mix of dry lands scattered with these green cultures, the mess, the poverty, the dirt, the old mens, the young mens, the soldiers, the houses made out of dirt, it is incredibly interesting, thoughts are tumbling. We pass some convoy, german forces, in their gigantic ten tone piece of metal no heads out, leaving nothing behind but weird and angry look on the peoples faces, some IED holes, and some burned toyotas are scattered, we also pass some military operation, with these US soldiers hidden behind these walls, some guys moving fast to another, everything is fine.
You see the news, read articles, look at documentaries, you could imagine the complexity, but still once here, the mess, the ancient culture, the different ethnies, the people marked by decades of war, Afghanistan get more unknown but more and fascinating too. The women in their blue long burka, everywhere along the road, some begging, with their children, those men that lost their legs, or the arm, as the despair, the war here for far too long is a part of the landscape now.
We stop at a little road restaurant, few meat pieces, by hand only, with men only, everybody on the floor, the place is noisy and crowded, the food good, contemplating, the time is good and right…
Heading for the Salang pass, we meet a long US military convoy there, the driver after his american drink picked up at the stop, start a long talk, were i could only pick up, Taliban, Pakistan, America… The others laughed, as the atmosphere get a little more chilled, we passed through Kunduz and Baghlan already the safety should normally be much better..
The driver drops us on the side of a road, having no clue where i am i follow the old men, he brings me to his friends, a family business, on Sarayee Shamali, Harri road, a high four floor hotel. The owners welcome me, and we start to discuss about the country, they tells me all kind of tale from the Jihad, from the life in Samangan mountains, about Massoud, we have simply great time… After going for food with the men downstairs to his restaurant, we take a last chaï.
Feeling thankful, here in the room i could now sleep.
PS : so the rabbits did made it..
