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AFGHANISTAN DIARY 1970 ... Part 3July 21, 1970 - Bamian The German boy and I enjoy scrambling up the red stone hillside where for 1500 years the eyes of lidless caves have looked out over the mud-walled houses and the fertile fields of the Bamian Valley. Here, at the western end of the Hindu Kush, (which means Hindu Killer), we can see the rising ranges of the Koh-I-Baba (Grandfather Mountains). After traipsing up and around numerous passageways, we encounter a wooden door. Hans unwires the lock and we slip through the cool, dim passageway right out to the head of the Buddha. Sitting atop the head of the 175-foot Buddha, I can imagine Bamian’s once-thriving monasteries and bazaars and can conjure the town that became known as "The City of Noise" when, in vengeance for the death of his grandson, Genghis Khan destroyed all its citizens.* Descending the hill, we join others sitting in the little tea stall under the waving shadows of breeze-blown trees and eat elegantly sliced fingers of juicy melons. Pale green and delicate, sweet and refreshing unlike any melon any westerner has ever tasted. Tea. Friendly smiles of tea-drinking patrons in long robes and thick-wound turbans. Peace and sunshine and cheerful shade. A moment out of time to savor and remember. The German boy and I cannot get enough of this strange, still, Buddha-hillside and are drawn back up it at sunset to sit toboggan-style in the lee of a ditch. We share one joint, and watch the incredible bands of shadows playing across the changing faces of the hills and mountains. * Note, 2001: Who would have imagined then, that 31 years later the Buddhas themselves would be destroyed by the Taliban, thus destroying in one swoop the 1500 year link with the past and the livelihood of Bamian’s remaining citizens. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8
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Copyright 2004-09 Barbara Brewster | Website by Sharyn Peacocke & RangeWeb |
