DATELINE AFGHANISTAN: Sunday, May 5, 2002
06/15/2002
There are two basic rules when traveling to the Panjshir Valley, in northeast Afghanistan, I am told.
The first is to have a dependable car; the second is to avoid traveling on the route at night when the Shomali, the wide-open plain between the Panjshir and Kabul, becomes a playground for bandits.
Our car, a Toyota Corolla, seems sturdy and the driver, a bespectacled Afghan named Farid, says he's made the journey many times.
We set out at about 6 a.m., plenty of time to safely make it to the Panjshir and back before dark.
About 30 minutes into the trip, Farid pulls off the paved road. There is something wrong with the tire, which wobbles at high speeds.
We head back to Kabul.
Farid tracks down his colleague Ayob Khan, near the office of the International Committee of the Red Cross. A robust man with an infectious grin, Khan offers to drive us to the Panjshir.
But Khan doesn't have a car. No problem, he says. We take a taxi to a car dealership in northern Kabul. Khan rushes into the office and reappears with keys to a rusty white Land Cruiser.
Khan tears out of the lot, the gears groaning like those of a car that has not been driven for a long time. Khan shakes his head. The Land Cruiser cannot make the trip.
We find our third driver, Barya Lai, 23, sleeping in an apartment upstairs from his father's pharmacy. Lai is friends with Ahmad Wesal Zaman, my translator. He wears a soft brown pakul on his head and a neatly trimmed beard. He likes to drive his Corolla fast.
It's 10 a.m. when we finally leave the city. We cruise through the Shomali, stopping for soda and sweet bread in the dusty market town of Charikar and then into Gulbahar, the last major outpost before the road gives way to dirt and rocks of the Panjshir River Valley.
Soldiers lower a rope for us to pass. We crawl along the road, past the glimmering river below and towering rock ledges above. We splash through streams that have washed out the road. Packs of children holding blue book bags run alongside the car, tapping the windows and laughing.
We pass columns of rusting Soviet tanks and an injured cow lying in the middle of the road, after being hit by a car. Some women are trying to pull the animal upright.
At last, we reach our destination: the grave of commander Ahmad Shah Massoud on a hill in Saricha, a remote hamlet at a bend in the river. It's 1 p.m.
After about an hour, we have to turn back if we want to return to Kabul before sunset and avoid problems in the Shomali Plains.
We slowly descend Martyrs Hill when suddenly there's a thunderclap beneath the car.
Boom.
We hit a boulder. The exhaust pipe snaps and drags along the road. Our Corolla sounds like a tank. It's 2:30 p.m.
The car rumbles over the rocky road, the loose pipe smacking every pothole. We limp into Gulbahar, the outpost at the edge of the jagged valley. There's a group of men standing outside a storefront, next to a ram that has been painted purple and yellow. Lai asks them where we can find a mechanic.
They point to a narrow driveway, near a barbershop. We pull onto the path and into a crowd of grease-stained boys. There's a trench dug in the dirt. The boys roll a station wagon out of the way and guide us over the ditch.
Shaif Uddin, 12, jumps into the ditch, with aviator goggles pushed back on his head, and inspects the severed pipe.
His father, Khanali Uddin, joins him in the trench. He ignites his welding torch and slides reflective sunglasses over his eyes. The sparks fly. Shaif sits by the trunk of the car, holding the exhaust pipe in place with his foot.
It's 4 p.m.
The sun dips in the sky. Lai is pacing around the car. Father and son cut out the mutilated exhaust pipe and weld a new section in its place. Khanali climbs out of the trench, smiling.
It takes them 15 minutes to complete the job.
The Corolla purrs out of the village. We are on the road by 4:30 p.m., speeding through the Shomali. Lai cranks up a tape of Indian techno music.
We reach Kabul as the moon appears in the cobalt sky. In two days, I leave Afghanistan to go home.
Tomorrow, I will buy my plane ticket.
