Pakistan

Our final day in Afghanistan came, and Andrea and I woke up early to begin the trip to Peshawar, Pakistan. We went by way of Jalalabad, where Andrea met with several professors. As we left, we were sad to say good-bye to everyone at the institute. Even the police guarding one of the neighboring houses and nearby shopkeepers waved as we left.
The road to Jalalabad was beautiful. Soon out of Kabul, we passed through a narrow gorge, cliffs rising on either side of a river. As we climbed out of the gorge, we saw spectacular views back into it behind us. The downside was that Afghan drivers can be dangerous, speeding on blind curves and passing other vehicles. But, the other traffic was interesting. Truckers in the Afghanistan-Pakistan border area decorate their trucks in an over-the-top fashion. The vehicles are covered with many small paintings-landscapes, animals and others. The doors are often replaced with elaborate wooden doors, and an equally elaborate structure is built extending from behind the cab to keep cargo, piled high, from shifting forward. Chimes are hung from all around the trucks, turning them into mobile wind chimes. We, also passed the odd rickshaw, and we would see many more of these in Peshawar.
As we approached Peshawar, the land flattened and became more of a desert. The temperature also increased. We passed by many villages of the typical mud-brick houses that are arranged into walled compounds, and seem fortresses that can easily be defended. Several times we passed American convoys.
In Jalalabad we went to the house of a professor Andrea had earlier spoken with. In his 70s, he was clearly an important figure at the university. I was very happy to find that he spoke excellent Russian-better, in fact, than his English. He had studied for seven years in Russia, at Moscow State University. While it shouldn’t be surprising to find such people in Afghanistan, it still comes as a little shock. I was also very happy to find that the other professor we met with had just completed a Master’s at IU.
After an enjoyable chat with the professors, we had to turn down their offers for lunch in order to get to the border. It was actually not too much further, and we arrived just when the car meeting us was due to arrive. The border area was a mess of carts being pushed, sometimes with women wearing burkas in the carts rather than luggage. Fancy trucks rumbled by constantly. A goat wandered around as well, and seemed to be lost. We made it through passport control, only to find the car was actually about forty minutes away. So, we sat to wait with soldiers assigned to the crossing.
The driver finally arrived, and we crammed into the car along with the two soldiers assigned to escort us through the tribal areas to Peshawar. This is required for foreigners, as the region is volatile. We then went through the Khyber Pass. Forts dotted the tops of hills, and plaques announced which British regiments were previously stationed in the area. We passed many villages, also made of the same mud-brick. We saw boys playing in the river and women carrying pots on their heads. We switched soldier escorts several times. Right before Peshawar, we stopped at the village of Andrea’s Pashto teacher to visit and for tea. The only woman in our car, I was brought to the back of the house with the teacher’s wife and daughters. They didn’t know English, and here my Farsi was no longer useful as it had been in Afghanistan. All the same, they were very kind. Dressed colorfully, in a more Indian-like style than was found in Afghanistan, they gave me tea and delicious food and fanned me, which seemed a little strange and yet, drenched in sweat from the journey, I appreciated. One of the daughters made a beautiful henna design on my hand. They also presented me with a scarf and bangles. It was a wonderful experience.
We then continued to Peshawar State University, where Andrea had stayed for June and part of July. He was warmly welcomed back by the teachers and professors that lived and worked in the Peshawar University Teacher’s Association Hall, where we stayed. Then, tired but not wanting to stay put, we took a stroll around the university. The grounds were beautiful and green, very well-maintained. It contrasted in a startling way with Afghanistan. We then decided to go downtown for a short time. The mass of cars, trucks, decorated trucks, equally decorated buses, and rickshaws was overwhelming and yet I loved it all. Even though it was Friday and therefore not as busy as usual, it seemed very crowded to me, with people hanging off of buses, trucks, and cars, and entire families, including infants riding motorcycles. It was all beautiful in an overwhelming sort of way.
Later that evening, we attended a wedding that was taking place at the university. I have to admit that in my tired state, and again knowing none of the women, I found this wedding quite taxing. There was none of the music and dancing of the wedding in Afghanistan. Rather, the women simply sat and chatted in a large hall. We ate very late, and I later found out that this was because we were waiting for the men to finish. As the end of the celebration approached, the electricity went out. Peshawar is plagued by power shortages, and several times of day different areas of the city find their electricity cut for an hour at a time. What to do during this time was something of a problem, but one of Andrea’s friends offered to take us around. As IDPs, he had been staying with his entire family in one of the rooms of the hall when Andrea was there before. Now, the family had returned except for him.
The next day we started out by visiting an IDP camp. A large number of camps have been created on the outskirts of Peshawar as a result of military operations causing villages to be emptied or destroyed. The camp we visited was located next to the remains of an Afghan refugee camp. It was made up of neat rows of tents covered by white awnings overhead. We looked at a school located in the camp, and then I visited the living area of one family. Unfortunately I was unable to really speak with the two women, but they got across that they had been there for a year, and didn’t know when they would be able to return home. Their small tent was surrounded by a dusty courtyard in which several chickens wandered around. It was very hot, but I can’t imagine how cold it must get in the winter. Although Peshawar doesn’t get too cold, it still must not be comfortable to be facing a second winter in a tent.
The rest of the time we were in Peshawar, we wandered the city. The city is so full of energy and people, with colorful vehicles everywhere. We walked around the old part of the city, full of narrow winding lanes. We saw an ancient Hindu temple, fire trucks used in the early 1900s, and the residence of an Italian who was governor of Peshawar in the 1800s.
All too soon, though, it was time to go to Islamabad for my flight. The drive took a while and was made difficult by a rainstorm that also delayed the flight. However, by 6 am I was flying away from Pakistan.