'THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE PATHANS’, North West Frontier Province, Pakistan (Sep 06)

We had all (almost all) been eager to visit Khyber Pass. The ancient gateway between civilisations had an exiting and adventurous attraction. But between the contemporary regional political climate, and Pakistani, British & CMS risk guidelines, it was not meant to be. (Even though we debated long and late into to the night to defy risk assessment policy). So we had to be satisfied driving through the FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Areas) Pathan Valley on the way to Bannu, and admire the barren beauty of the arid deserts we passed. The FATA no-mans land inhabited by the Pathans, the fierce Pushtu speaking hill tribes who in their day had defeated the armies of Alexander the Great among others, was famous for its Opium smuggling, arms dealing & kidnappings just to put our minds at rest. Despite cartographic claims that it is within Pakistani National borders (On the map, it is a part of Pakistan), the Pakistani government has never really controlled it. The Pathan tribal chiefs run everything. The government plays complex games of bribery, threat and divide-and-rule with those chiefs to maintain its nominal authority. In the heart of Taliban country where Bin laden was rumoured to be hidden, photography wasn’t permitted and for once we didn’t dare to override common sense and risk assessment protocol.

As we drove through the heart of Bannu, we noticed that Sharia culture was firmly established, as women glided in traditional Burkas and the explosive heat frissoned off the multicoloured afghani styled caravan/lorries. Mules and horses panted through the dust and the heat, and we gratefully collapsed into the air conditioned comfort of the uncharacteristically luxurious lodgings. The diocesan accommodation provided by the Bannu Parish was in a compound that was adjunct to the Pennel (founded by the great adventurer missionary of the last century Dr. Theodore Pennel) School & the Bannu mission hospital. The Christian compound was a retreat from the veiled outside world, and had been one of the places that were attacked during the Dutch cartoon controversy. After spending some time with the Bannu youth group we attended a busthi church that welcomed us with garlands of roses and jasmine (a tradition of hospitality that was practiced everywhere we went) after sharing a communion service in Pushtu with us. Then we spent some time visiting the little beehive of slums that housed the Christian population of the city. We had almost grown accustomed to the tragic stories and abysmal living conditions after having seen the state of abject poverty of the many slums in Peshawar. The extreme conditions of our encounters as well as our own living conditions (which was still luxurious in comparison) had left us teetering in a surreal world of desperate survival as impotent observers. Life was fragile and uncertain here, but weary of seeing and hearing bleak stories of misery, poverty and tragedy we were settling into an uncomfortable tolerance of this hopeless ecology.

When we got back to the air conditioned comfort of our flat in the sweltering night, Murphy’s Law had been at work again, and the team had, each individually, more complications to deal with. If it was a battlefield we were on, we were losing and we weren’t even sure what we were fighting, but the carnage was evident. I had to make a difficult decision to leave the mission, ahead of the team, to get back to Liverpool to resolve some problems with my PHD progress review. Exhausted, discontent, diarrhoea weakened, and nauseas (as a side effect to our daily malaria tablets) we staggered into our rooms to await a turn for the shower. Since Ben was taking forever to knock on my door to let me know he had finished, I tottered into the kitchen to retake my malaria tablets (I had thrown up the last batch) when I heard a loud rumbling noise and what sounded like distressed screaming from the boys. Since boys will be boys, (a generally easily excitable gender) I didn’t really take too much notice. But as the rumbling was reaching an explosive crescendo I poked my head round to see what was going on, to be enveloped in a bear hug by Malcolm and Ben clearly distressed and relieved to see me. Since physical contact was a-cultural here, group hugs had been left behind in Liverpool; so I was mystified by their distress.

The bedrooms (connected to that bathroom) meanwhile were filling with steam (that was seeping from the firmly closed bathroom door) and the rumbling now (that I was nearer the source) was ear splitting. Eventually it came to light that Ben had knocked on my door and heard me go into the shower only to hear the steam explosion. Judging by the melted remains of my toiletries I wouldn’t have survived if I had been in their. Since I arrived on the scene post-event I wasn’t particularly upset or fearful and didn’t understand why people continued to be distressed. After everyone had gone to bed (except Ruth who insisted I used her bathroom and was trying to convince me not to sleep alone in my bedroom) I finally went for my shower and was violently sick in the sink, purging the discomfort and hysteria of the day (along with the bitter malaria tablets).

There was something about the dark empty desert that night, which kept me awake deep into the oppressive night and overwhelmed my puny attempts to count sheep. Life was fragile everywhere; whether starkly obvious as in this turbulent valley of the Pathans, or cleverly disguised in the comforts of post-modern western society. Survival was important, but our journey in time and space should be more than that. Life was about (if popular culture was anything to go by) Love, Hope & Purpose (or as the Gospel prioritises Faith, Hope & Love); necessarily interdependent elements that breed other ingredients such as joy and contentment. I was beginning to see that there was something in that. If we felt impotent and didn’t see how we could really make a difference to these cesspools of suffering, we could at least offer a pinch of these ingredients of rejuvenation & life.

http://www.afghanwelfare.org/prod02.htm

http://www.economist.com/displayStory.cfm?story_id=5636190

http://wikitravel.org/en/Peshawar

http://www.khyber.org/publications/016-020/colonialencounter.shtml

http://www.pakistanlink.com/sah/04-07-2000.html

Get Your Own! | View Slideshow