Recap

Should I make this short? I suppose I could – keep it simple, talk about themes and emotions and abstracts and leave the gritty details to the imagination. But how do I encapsulate the journey I’ve taken these past weeks in a few short paragraphs? What are the themes and how abstract can it be to travel through tribal Pashtun lands when the Pashtuns themselves live such concrete lives rooted in a culture derived from a history of conflict? I could say simply that this was a wild ride. It was, but not in the same vein as a rollercoaster or a rafting trip down the Ottawa River. I’ve learned something new, which to me is the true measure of the success or failure of any assignment I take on. I could leave it at that, but would it be enough? And I don’t mean for you readers (sorry folks, I don’t write this blog for you, though I do appreciate the comments ). I mean of course for me since this, my blog, is my way of trying to understand my life. Is it enough for me to just let it be, to file the memories and experiences away and allow the intuitive part of my brain the benefit of more raw material?

No, I don’t think so. In that case, this blog would end now. It would be gratuitous.

How then to begin? Geography might help. Here’s how the trip went:

Istanbul to Islamabad with one transit day in Dubai

Islamabad to Peshawar

Peshawar to Bajaur Tribal Agency

Bajaur Tribal Agency to Peshawar

Peshawar to Quetta

Quetta to Chaman (and briefly into Afghanistan, illegally)

Chaman to Quetta

Quetta to Chaman and on to Spin Boldak (legally this time)

Spin Boldak to Kandahar

Kandahar to Kabul (by car, despite the poll results which, if I’d followed them, would’ve had me either flying out or still in Kandahar counseling former Taliban fighters)

Kabul to Jegdalek

Jegdalek to Torkham through Jalalabad

Torkham to Peshawar

Peshawar to Islamabad

Islamabad to Istanbul (this last trip is still pending – I fly Friday morning)

Typing all that out tells me two things: first, there’s a reason why I’m exhausted. This was a long, often rough, occasionally terrifying journey. But more importantly, in that loose itinerary there is another, less obvious significance: it's not only the roadmap of my physical movements, it's also a treasure map, a sort of cryptic diagram leading to that ultimate prize: peace in Afghanistan.

It starts in Istanbul so any hermeneutic endeavour should also start there. Let's see...Turkish forces are in Afghanistan, in the north, sitting back in Camp Dogan in Kabul running minor reconstruction projects in a city super-saturated with armies and aid agencies running reconstruction projects. Turkey also happens to be the second-largest member of NATO after the U.S. Its army is massive and it has a long-standing history fighting an insurgency in its own lands (granted, that fight has been an unnecessary disaster but at least some good can come out of it if the lessons learned are applied in Afghanistan). In other words, Turkey is experienced and equipped to do more in Afghanistan. It is a Muslim nation, albeit nominally, but nonetheless it has some credibility among Muslims (at least its soldiers can pray with Afghan army troops and village elders rather than watching them with bemusement and, in some cases, disgust).

On to Islamabad (physically-speaking on a Boeing 777 which is, these days, the only way to fly). The Pakistani government is obviously trying to cover all its bases when it comes to Afghanistan. On the one hand, it is cooperating with the U.S.-led War on Terror (I can’t help giggling every time I type that – War on Terror, what a joke). On the other, it’s keeping its relationship with the Taliban alive by supporting them with easy access across the border and some clandestine military support (money, training). Musharraf should wise up to the fact that Pakistan needs clarity of purpose if it is to retain any respect in the global community. There is an argument that Pakistan’s President-General isn’t in control of all of his security services and that the elements aiding and abetting the Taliban are rogue elements. If that is the case, then he needs to make some difficult decisions to get those elements under control.

Moving into Tribal Country (including Peshawar which, as I wrote in a previous post, is really an urbanized tribal region). Here is where Pakistan is doing some things right (border issues excluded). The government is registering the local population so it can keep track of who’s supposed to be there and who’s not. This is, of course, a useless activity unless there is some sort of verification process in place and some control over its borders. That will, inshallah, come in time. There’s also some development work going on and the beginnings of an effort to reign in religious schools. More needs to be done – the schools are still expanding and militant ideology rising but that has as much to do with U.S. interference (bombing schools, for example) as it does with Pakistan’s duplicity. Negotiating deals with tribal elders is also a step in the right direction, but only if it’s done with some give and take. Tribal leaders need to understand that they are responsible for violent individuals living amongst them. The Pak authorities need to make it clear that not dealing with these individuals will have consequences. Naturally, the tribals should be allowed to deal with them in their own customary way but they need to show results. So far, they’ve failed to do so.

Quetta. Chaotic and confused Quetta which I reached via a 36-hour train ride. It was, I admit, a first class train ride...in a sleeping car...with some guy who became a sort personal butler after I tipped him 50 rupees on a 40 rupee bill (I didn't have any change...50 rupees, by the way, is a dollar). Quetta is a difficult problem. Pakistan is already fighting an insurgency against Baloch tribesmen there (a situation they brought upon themselves by assassinating the most important tribal leader in the area, the only person who could’ve been a legitimate partner in negotiations, but that’s a whole other can of jalapenos). Quetta happens to be Taliban Command Central. This is where commanders come for rest and strategic renewal. They find ample cover in the Pashtun district where government control is non-existent and development equally absent. That district needs help. Roads would be a start but more importantly, economic opportunity for the legitimate residents. Blow the commanders’ cover and that will make it more difficult for them to organize and coordinate the insurgency across the border in Afghanistan. This, of course, requires a willingness by Pakistan to act against hard-line Taliban ideologues. Which inevitably leads us to Chaman.

The Chaman border crossing is a joke. The best image I can give is of a border control post, neglected and forlorn, more of a monument to the lack of control than anything else, which Afghans simply walk by as they make their way into Pakistan. Here’s a picture (bearing in mind I had to shoot it with the camera hanging at my waist, hidden under a shawl I was wearing – Pak authorities apparently don’t like revealing their inside jokes).

If Pakistan moans that it can’t seal its entire, rather mountainous and remote border with Afghanistan, then it can at least do something about the official crossings (including Torkham, which I’ll get to a little later). I crossed over at Chaman illegally once. My fixer doesn’t have a passport and yet he can move back and forth with a smile and a handshake (and the occasional 200 rupee bribe, the equivalent of $4 CDN). Registering Pashtun tribals who officially live in Pakistan is a waste of money unless the identity cards they’re provided are actually put to some use. But Pakistan has a lot to gain from giving Pashtuns free reign across the border. Outside of keeping good relations with the Taliban, there is economics to consider. The amount of mostly illegal trade between Pakistan and Afghanistan is enormous. The fact is, Pakistan receives most of the benefits of this smuggling industry. Generally, raw materials come out of Afghanistan into Pakistan where they are turned into final products, providing jobs for Pakistanis. These products are either sold in Pakistan, powering its economy, exported back to Afghanistan, again adding to Pakistan’s coffers, or exported abroad by Pakistanis. The raw materials come cheap (smugglers are generally poor men who value a buck as much as we in Canada would value a hundred). It’s time the Islamic Republic of Pakistan showed some Islamic values and shared its (mostly stolen) wealth with its Islamic neighbour.

From Chaman, crossing the border into Afghanistan, as I said, is a simple matter. I went legally the second time, which means I visited the passport control office to stamp out of Pakistan, putting the lone employee there to some work which he apparently didn't appreciate very much. Oh, yes, there was an Afghan in the office as well: he and the passport official were discussing a supply of portable stereos the official wanted. "Don't worry about your papers," he told the Afghan, I suppose not realizing that I could hear them. "I'll take care of that."

Back to the Taliban. Spin Boldak is a great vacation spot if you happen to be a Taliban fighter. There’s no army or police to bother you, you can hop across the border and enjoy the relative comfort and security of Pakistan where you can more or less travel freely. Hey, if I were a fighter in Kandahar, I’d use the $100 U.S. a month the Taliban are paying me to build me a little cottage in Spin Boldak. Great for weekend trips with the family.

Now, on to Kandahar, where the war’s at. Yes, here’s the heart of the issue, right? Or is it? Up to this point, all of the organs of the Taliban insurgency are to be found in and around Pakistan. Kandahar, in fact, only contains the limbs. NATO cuts one off and it grows back, pissing off the other limbs of this re-generating octopus even more (meaning the local people). NATO commanders know this and still they keep chopping away. Tactics need to change, and they are, slowly. The current operation (Baaz Tsuka) is a little better than the last one (Medusa) but it’s still lacking. Local elders, for example, recently claimed to have negotiated a ceasefire with Taliban fighters. It was a little disingenuous – the fighters, short on supplies, really only wanted a rest over the winter but the opportunity was there to talk to them, or at least with the less ideologically-bound elements in the insurgency. This will be crucial if NATO hopes to end the fighting. But NATO commanders missed it. Instead, they told the elders to deal with it themselves. “If you want to go back to your villages,” they told them, “then you have to provide security for yourselves.” Now that’s just silly.

That response reveals a critical shortcoming NATO faces in southern Afghanistan - it is low on troops, which brings us closer to the beginning of this journey – the Turks. Where are they?

In Kabul, the place we head for next, slowly, painfully, over snowbound roads, behind military convoys and through Taliban territory. A six-hour ride took fourteen along this treacherous route.

Highway 1, a good section

Unfortunately, information travels much faster and the information heading south from this city-state is not good. From the Pashtun perspective, Kabul has become the avatar of all that is wrong with the foreign presence in Afghanistan. It is SinCity, home of booze, drugs, and whores where drunken foreigners stumble through the streets with their ‘companions’ in tow. “Kabul has lost Islam to the kharijan [foreigners],” a Taliban fighter in Kandahar once told me. “We will not allow that to happen here.” Unofficial government policy (yes, policy!) is to let the expats do what they want, as long as Afghans don’t partake themselves. Naïve doesn’t begin to describe that policy. Stupid maybe? Self-destructive definitely. Last time I checked, Afghanistan was an Islamic republic. Foreigners need to respect that reality, and if they don’t they should suffer the consequences.

At this point, we should be heading into Jegdalek, a small village in the mountains southeast of Kabul. There are issues here as well, nuts-and-bolts-type stuff, the details I mentioned when I first started in on this rambling post. Things like opium cultivation, alternative livelihoods (mining, for example), corruption, nepotism, and the unsustainability of development that fails to empower the local population. I’d get into more now but I fear that would make this post much too long. Suffice to say there is a lot to say about Jegdalek. I’m working on that now, stories will come (possibly even a documentary). Instead of words, I leave you with a few pictures (taken during the summer last year).

The Region

The Village

The Opium

The Rubies

Jegdalek to Torkham, the main northern border crossing to Pakistan, could be considered a model for Afghanistan. Peace prevails here, though the war is creeping back in (a string of attacks in Laghman, a neighbouring province, is worrying). Nonetheless, it is a beautiful, peaceful ride, out of the snow-bound mountains and into a perpetually green valley flanked by the majestic Tora Bora range. But Torkham, that age-old trading post along the Khyber Pass is anything but peaceful. The torrent of mostly illegal activity is reminiscent of Chaman. Crossing the border is a simple matter of paying off the lone guard standing at the gate, charged with checking the thousands of people who cross back and forth every day, paying him, that is, if he manages to stop you. Otherwise, you just walk on in. Again, Pakistan needs to do something here, but dollar signs can be a blinding apparition indeed. There is less Taliban incursion and much, much more economic activity at this border. Pakistan is getting fat, relatively speaking.

Torkham to Peshawar to Islamabad and the circle is complete. Hope you enjoyed the tour. Come back soon.