Back to Bamiyan III: a night at Band-e Amir

We stroll down the pathway over high cliffs along the waterside, trying to find an access path to the lakes. Finally we reach a canyon through where we can walk down to water level. Sunshine is too bright; so we just relax in shade. The playful hamsters are nearby; there are no human beings around during next four hours.
Back at Band-e Haibat, we try find out about possibilities to stay overnight. First we are shown a smelly cellar in chaikhana. It doesn’t look like an inviting place. Near bazaar there is another possibility: four rooms are available in a long narrow house. All rooms have a window and even a door with a bolt. There are mats on the floor and blankets in the corner as well. But the atmosphere is as damp as in the cellar we already saw.
The owner understands our hesitations and he offers us haima. What is a haima? It turns out; that it is tent – quite a new one. We look at each other: do we really wish to stay in a tent? There was a warning example when two camping German journalist were killed. Inja jang nes, hatarnak nes, nafara hub as – there is no fight or danger, here are good people, the Hazaras persuade us. Of course, the situation is different: the journalists were camping away from village near a riverside in Wardak province. The tent is erected in front of the house and our driver is going to sleep in his car, just two steps from us. We agree the price – 14 dollars -, and we are supplied with a huge pile of blankets. Later we meet with the journalist of National Geographic Magazine, who is going to sleep in the room we rejected. The journalist proposes sarcastically that one can write two phrases on our tent: “kill me” and “rape me”.
Our night in tent turns out not dangerous, but miserable. First there are curious children around the tent; their movement looks like a shadow theatre. At ten o’clock in the night the Afghan family next to us decides to boil water in order to have a tea. Gas burner is placed next to our tent; so I am ready to rush out in the case our tent catches fire. During the night family members who visit toilet, stumble on our tent. At four a clock in the morning there is time for tea again and I decide to stop to pretend that I am sleeping.
I go to walk around Band-e Haibat. The water from numerous waterfalls is sparkling in the morning sun and the colourful mountains are reflecting in azure blue abyss (an average depth of the lakes is more than 80 meters). There are lots of fish. I heard that it is common to fish using electricity from batteries and explosives such as grenades.
After chai-e subh (breakfast) we drive to the place where the lakes are joined with a white travertine dams. Our driver Safiullah lies down while we ramble around the tiny shallow lake containing the light greenish water. But burning sun is high again and there is no place to hide. We are both quite exhausted because of poor sleeping, so we decide to return back to Bamiyan.
Our driver offers us to visit some other places on the road, but I feel really sick – it seems like I got a sunstroke. Back in hotel, I fall down into bed. Aga Sher, the caring owner of hotel, serves me a cup of herbs tea and a mango.
(End)

Back to Bamiyan II: Band-e Amir lakes, the greatest natures wonder in Afghanistan

When speaking to Afghans about sightseeing, they ask at first: “Have you been to Band-e Amir?” These well-known lakes in the middle of the Koha-e-Baba Mountains are one of the few tourist places in Afghanistan. Thousands of locals bundle up the whole family and make a long journey up to the lakes. It takes one and half days from Kabul to reach this place. Furthermore there are a lot of mines left in this area. Three years ago one minibus got blasted next to the main road. Thirteen men were killed on the spot.
Band-e Amir (Dam of Amir in Dari language) is actually a chain of lakes, connected by limestone dams. There are six lakes, namely Band-e Gholaman (Dam of slaves), Band-e Qamber (Dam of Caliph Ali’s slave), Band-e Haibat (Dam of grandiose), Band-e Panir (Dam of cheese), Band-e Pudina (Dam of wild mint) and Band-e Zulfiqar (Dam of sword of Ali). The lakes are now declared a wildlife conservation area. But honestly, it seems to me that only sign of special status of the area is the new public bathroom.
Early morning we are picked up by a brisk old man Safiullah with his four wheel drive car. He knows some words in English. Our Dari vocabulary is a little bit bigger – by all means we manage to communicate during those two days we are going to spend together.
During the first part of the journey we pass through valleys full of trees. An hour later there is no sign of trees or settlements. Just huge herds of sheep and cows are spread out on the green hills. Taliban took most of animals; only now, after five years, the new herds are forming again, Safiullah explains.
Three hours later we see a colourful mountain massive. For the first time we see the lakes. When I see the colour of the water I realize that photos cannot truly convey this deep rich blue tint. We stop on the cliff, which towers over Band-e Haibat. There are some cars, a chaikhana (teahouse), a small shrine and a tiny bazaar on the side of the lake. High rockcliffs surround the most of the lake. The lower part reminds me of a spill over the edge of a bath. The long crescent edge of the lake is bordered with countless waterfalls.
Some families paddle near the waterfalls; I can hear shrieks of the children and women. We were told that up to 200 cars visit Band-e Amir in a day. But during our stay there were maybe twenty, not more. It depends on a weekday as there are more guests on Thursdays and Fridays when local minibuses bring Afghans from Bamiyan.
After eating kebab we ask Safiullah to take us to another lake. We explain to our driver that we will walk back (4-5 kilometres). Safiullah leaves and we are without a guide – for the first time in Afghanistan. Of course we have walked on our own in cities and villages, but here – in the middle of nowhere – it is a really splendid feeling.
(Continuing)

Back to Bamiyan I: the discreet charm of Hazaras

Last year we spent our spring holidays in Bamiyan. We had some friends over there, midwives from US Siri and Marion. They were working in Aga Khan hospital. My husband and I, we stayed at hospital guesthouse and enjoyed the hospitality of the staff.
Bamiyan is one of the most beautiful valleys I have seen in my life; even when the statues of Buddhas have gone. The colourful mountain massive displays thousands of niches and caves. Hsuan-Tsang, the Chinese pilgrim who visited Bamiyan in 632, reported about ten monasteries and over 1000 priests.
We climbed up the ancient staircase inside the small Buddha’s niche (38 meters high).Large Buddha was 55m high. There is a complicated system of caves and grottos around Buddhas. Nancy Hutch Dupree describes different kinds of paintings on the walls. Unfortunately Taliban destroyed not only statues, but most of the paintings as well. Only small richly coloured fragments of flowers can be found in some places.
We walked up the steep hill of Shahr-e Zohak (City of Zohak or Red City), the fortress of Shansabani Kings. The remains date from 1221. Genghis Khan’s favourite grandson fell mortally wounded by the defenders of the fortress. Genghis Khan got so angry that he destroyed everything in the Bamian Valley.
We also visited the famous Darya Ajdahar (Valley of the Dragon). It is an interestingly split hill. A legend says that there was a dragon in this valley, demanding each day one beautiful young lady, two camels and 600 pounds of other foodstuff. One morning the dragon found a young warrior, sword in hand. It was Hazrat Ali, the Prophet Mohammad son-in-law. He split the dragon in two, down the entire length of his huge body. We arrived at this hill at a very certain moment: there was sun and rain and rainbow and murky clouds all at the same time. It was an unbelievable view from the top of this hill to yellow, red and even green hills around us and to snowy peaks of mountain range Koha-e Baba.
Now we are back again for holidays. It is a relieving feeling to step out from the small plane. Twenty minutes ago we were in dusty and noisy Kabul; now there are only sounds of singing birds and yelling donkeys. Our midwife friends have left so we stay in a well-known guesthouse Roof of Bamian.
We walk a lot between fields, enjoying the greenery and friendly smiles of Hazaras. Mostly they grow potato (90%) and wheat; short summer is suitable only for these weather resistant crops. Climate of Bamiyan is severe. There are long cold winters and a lot of snow. Loafs of dung are drying everywhere on the roofs around villages. Those smelly loafs are used instead of wood for heating in harsh wintertime.
On the fields one can see bright dresses and headscarves of Hazara women. They never cover their heads with burkas while working. Last year I made a lot of photos secretly from inside car. This year I try to avoid photographing; Hazara ladies do not like that. Instead I practice my Dari language - to put to test greetings and small talk. And sometimes miracles happen: after a conversation and showing of pictures on the small screen of my camera the green light for photographing is given.