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11/06/2003: "Kandahar Chronicles #38 - 30/10/2003"

(This update was misplaced and so it appears out of order)

“Kashmiris are Not Children of a Lesser God!”

The huge banner stretched along the side of the avenue, lit by the headlights of the congested traffic. The driver that had collected me from the airport chain-smoked Marlboroughs as I watched the other motorists jockeying for position, sometimes four cars wide over the two lanes. Green trees and a wide grass verge prevented more impatient drivers from coming abreast of us and angry horns beeped continuously. Another large sign emerges from the gloom, “Islamabad, The Capital City.” That’s a catchy nickname for a city. I opened my window to let the acrid cigarette smoke out. An old man tottering through the cars comes to my window and holds up some newspapers for sale. His eyes are milky with cataracts and his lips tucked into his mouth for lack of teeth. I feel sorry for him and buy an Urdu paper for the driver. He happily hobbles off, in stark contrast to the sleek vehicles that spring forward together on the command of a policeman directing traffic.


I remember driving this same road five years ago when I was leading adventure travel tours through Central Asia. There are now buildings erected on what then were empty lots. Images flicker through my mind and I recognize the turn off to the campsite. Then it was May and the night air was hot and sticky. In the late October evening it’s almost cool and the people seem to have a spring in their step. Mind you, it’s also the first days of the holy month of Ramadan now and most people have just enjoyed their first meal of the day. It still seems strange to me that people who pray five times a day wouldn’t consider the whole year holy. Ramadan is a tough gig in any country much less the hot ones. From sunrise to sunset, healthy people over the age of thirteen (?) don’t eat, drink or smoke. Like other Islamic traditions, pragmatic exceptions are made. In the case of Ramadan, the very young, very old, the sick and lactating women are excused this trial of faith.

I sit back and watch the business section approach. As a planned city sections of the city are clearly defined. Numerically named streets and color-designated areas are laid out in a neat grid pattern and a market supports each. I think construction began around 1960 and will continue for decades yet. I catch a glimpse of the Faisal Mosque through the trees. This enormous mosque, built with Saudi money, is a modern jewel and is said to have room for 74,000 people inside. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to visit it now, especially when passions flare in the early days of Ramadan, but I might see if I can meet someone to take me inside. I’ve got a lot of purchasing to do while I’m here so I’ll get busy with that first but with such unheard of things such as hiking trails and gyms available there’s lots to keep me occupied. I can feel the freedom after Kandahar enticing me, but where to start.

Ooh, Pizza Hut.

Replies: 1 Comment

Do you find the locals in Pakistan to be Xenophobic, or welcoming? I realize that's a broad question, as I'm sure they're hardly uniform, but how are you, as a Western aid worker, perceived?

You have some interesting commentary on Islam here, what are your thoughts on that religion?

Xenophobia? said @ 11/07/2003 12:29 AM EST