Wednesday 19 May
We all slept very late, and were woken by pre-breakfast visitors. For breakfast (on the balcony) we had cornflakes, parathas and marmalade and coffee – so European somehow (despite the prarathas) amidst the rather squalid yet beautiful surroundings.
Afterwards Peter’s adopted father, Kazi, took us to Maladesh, where we saw women weaving and met a few of the inhabitants – and then to Batet, where we drank tea with the scruffiest border police ever, in the ‘guesthouse’.
We walked back on the other side of the river, passing the menstrual hut where two women were sitting outside. Peter wanted me to go and have a look but we discovered that when I came out, I would have to wash myself and my clothes before being accepted again, and just then it seemed like rather a palaver – so I’m saving it up for later!
Spent most of the rest of the day in the house (reading The French Lieutenant‘s Woman and receiving guests). We had a chicken for lunch, a gift to Peter. There is a darling boy here called Sherwali Khan, who is destined to be a Dehar (prophet) as he already has prophetic dreams and trances. We gave him a sweetie and he was delighted.
Thursday 20th May
Another balcony breakfast, with an audience. As Peter wanted to catch up with what he missed while he was away, we went for a walk up and down the valley. Saw another woman weaving – talked to people. J is trying to learn Farsi, and I sat and read on the balcony – Peter found a marvellous book in Edwardes College – The Sensual Couple – so that was an entertainment. In the evening we played word games, sat and talked or read by the light of paraffin lamps.
Saifullah Jan‘s father brought us some delicious cheese in the morning, and lassi (buttermilk) in the evening – quite delicious. The people really are very nice – Peter‘s ‘father’ Kazi, has the most amazing face and knack of appropriating cigarettes (surreptitiously!). It’s wonderful to relax and watch people living, at the moment, a rather lazy life.
Friday 21st May
In the evening we became very civilised, had Erbsensuppe mit wurst, rice, chapattis and savoury omelettes – out of survival packet. However, we have been promised a goat, so the endless rice and potatoes might be varied.
In the afternoon J and I went up river quite a long way to where the fields are, and cross over a bridge and proceeded to walk down the other side – there are the remains of hundreds of arum lilies, must have been a wonderful sight. Many wild flowers, including (I think) wild pink orchids. We had walked quite a long way down, when we discovered the path gave way to sheer gorge, and had to go all the way back. En route we met a villager, carrying a large pot full of lassi, which he allowed us to dip our fingers into.
Later a large iron mug appeared for our supper – delicious. In the morning J and I had taken all our and Peter‘s washing up the river where we scrubbed and scrubbed for well over an hour. Exhausting, but the coolness of the water on my bare feet was refreshing.
This morning as I was in the ‘loo’ – a wide open space behind some rocks just below the village – I was come across upon by a little boy who impolitely stared and put me right off – I found out later that he was a Muslim, which of course explains it – I seem to be catching the antagonistic attitude that exists between the Kalash and the Muslims.
Wonderful shauries [Swahili for to-do] with the cook – whose opium has run out and he claims to be incapable of doing his stuff without it. The old boy is to teach a young Kalash how to cook, but the ‘young Kalash’ changes every few days because of greedy uncles who want them to work in the fields – and they do have a great hold over these boys.
Saturday 22nd May
A day of inactivity, lounging, eating and reading. This morning I saw the noble black beast who is to provide our meat for some time. He disappeared and we ate him for lunch – I felt a bit sad and therefore not so voracious as the others. I’m reading John Updike’s Couples, rather strange but amusing. We went down to the river and I watched it rush and roar. Two wood pigeons were presented to Peter, this evening by dear Sherwali Khan – he didn’t shoot them however – the gun he bore was larger than him.
The Kalash men are fascinated by my pocket Instamatic so I took a couple of snaps to demonstrate, also some cine. J and Peter are making (improving) a backgammon board and what with our afternoon tea we really are civilised, almost sophisticated. The dice is penned on a large piece of paper – they always go off the board as their eyes are shut.
Sunday 23rd May
Poor J awoke with terrible stomach pains and was sick and miserable all day. By evening he got a bit better, food poisoning I think – I have got the runs a bit and indicative of something wrong somewhere – perhaps it’s the goat – too fresh. Or that now that the cook’s opium is finished, he claims to be useless!
I acted nurse most of the day, slept a bit, as I had a bad night. Afternoon went for a lovely riverside walk, and came across three Kalash girls – one had the beginnings of goitre and I could see the lice crawling about her hair!
The new apprentice cook started today – is very keen and has a cheery smile, which didn’t however encourage J to eat. Soup might be tempting this evening. Peter having a big letter writing session, so we scribble to Shahin [a mutual Oxford friend, Persian by origin] as well. Rain and thunder and quite cool – the first bad weather in Kalash land.
Monday 24th May
Life is full of irony – today J felt fully recovered, whereas I had to fight off urgent desire to rush off to the ‘loo’ in the middle of the night. As the morning grew sunnier, I began to have searing pains in my stomach – so great that I was crying in agony, and then other symptoms of dysentery – blood, mucus etc. However, I dose myself heavily with Lomotil and after a while I began to feel much better – not well enough for lunch, but at least for an afternoon walk.
We crossed the river and followed the irrigation channel further than we had before and were rewarded with a wonderful simultaneous view of Batet, Maladesh and Grom, perched on her high hill. The cook is in high spirits (the old one) as his opium has arrived – let’s hope there’s no more poisoning. Wazir bought Peter some delightful sweet Williams and is taking us fishing tomorrow – fun, fun!
Tuesday 25th May
Awoke having to fight off the urgent desire to dash into the bushes. Unfortunately there is very little change in my condition – still blood etc. So I spent the morning lying in bed, reading and even had a bit of lunch. It rained very heavily though intermittently in the morning, and we presumed fishing to be off. However, Wazir turned up after lunch and off we went, following the river’s course, but much higher up along an irrigation channel.
Some parts we were right down by the water, splashing from stone to stone. Eventually we arrived at the place, a spring out of the rocks, which eventually joins the main river, but not before it has formed several little fishing pools. Fish were to be seen, but not to be caught. The land belongs to Saifullah, and he is extremely proud of its beauty. The men were allowed to see the cave, whence the water sprung, but as it’s a fairy cave I was banned. Sherwali Khan also accompanied us.
Whilst there, it poured with rain and we had to shelter under some trees. Fishing useless, Wazir and Saifullah pursued wood pigeons, but also without success – provided entertainment for us however.
We crossed over to the other side of the valley and visited ‘summer houses’ where Peter and J went off to see some shines while I talked to four delightful girls (12 to 14) all married of course (one to a midget whom she loathed and explained it had been a conspiracy on her father‘s part, as an extremely large bride price had been paid and the groom, knowing his growth had stopped and that the enormity of the bride price would prevent elopement and remarriage, as this would mean that the new husband would have to double the previous bride price). They were all beautifully painted in red black and green, mock freckles on their faces and seductive lines on their brows.
Back in Balanguru I began to suffer again, so read spy stories (!) to relieve my mind.
Wednesday 26th May
Still not 100%, but a little better, I suppose. The Joshi is meant to be the day after tomorrow and our delightful neighbour has promised to plait my hair, lend me her kupass [headdress] and gown– so I should look like the genuine article.
The goat meat is finished so I think I can breathe a sigh of relief – back to nutritious old potatoes. We were given some lovely goats cheese which is surprisingly bland and un-goaty. Peter and J went off goat-counting in the ‘goshts’ goat houses, while I stayed at home and talk to various visitors, including Sherwali Khan (who can even write his own name).
J was sick early in the morning but he recovered as the day drew on. I myself felt almost well again by evening, I’m sure there was a jinx on the goat because, as it was a male goat I, a female, wasn’t supposed to eat it but had been given special dispensation to do so.
Thursday 27th May
We went to the dispensary to get some pills for a poor woman who has incessant bleeding – but she looked a bit simple so might not have understood completely. Then we decided to walk to Sheikhanandeh, supposed to be 15 minutes from Nodon [?]. But when we got there, Saifullah said it was one hour away so, being very tired and feeling a bit funny, as well as it being midday, I turned back and had a solitary lunch and rest.
The others came back at 4:30 full of the splendours of Sheikhanandeh and it’s extraordinary architecture, especially the house they visited. Peter went off counting goats in the evening and returned after dinner. Joshi is tomorrow but only after a lot of persuading and sending Kazi round to all the villages to make sure.
Friday 28th May
Today is Joshi – early in the morning my friend came round and took me to her house (typical round, central fireplace, two beds). There she plaited my hair in four funny plaits, gave me a black cotton gown and belted me round with one of the woven belts, with interwoven designs at either end. She pinned two big broaches on both collarbones and took off two of her necklaces which she also gave me – finally her kupass passed into my hands and I became a Kalash girl (very smelly it all was too).
Soon we heard the drums in the village clearing, and the women started doing warming-up dances. A message came up to the house to implore me (literally) to join them – so I did and it was extremely pleasant dancing in the shade – as opposed to Grom’s high hill.
So the morning passed and at about 2.30 everyone went off to Grom and we followed suit. But after a couple of dances it became too hot for me – and I was feeling queasy so I left and took to bed (and the dysentery symptoms started all over again). J came down soon after, Peter much later. The cook had made some crisps, which we ate with whiskeys to boost the morale.
Peter had had a telegram announcing Anne Lambton‘s arrival in Chitral (two days ago) so was in a fluster as to know what to do. We thought the problem solved when as night was falling a message came that the European lady was coming – so we bustled about tidying everything up (had spring cleaned in the morning) and Peter was in a state of shock as all the food had run out – rice, potatoes, flour, no meat of course.
When the rumour came through that there were two women and one man we couldn’t imagine who they were – turned out to be two Pakistani girls, Aksha and Aisha, and a Frenchman – Aisha sister of Akbar [Akbar S. Ahmed, now an esteemed US-based scholar], a friend of Peter‘s, anthropologist, and studying for a PhD doing research in Pakistan. Both were real pain, complained non-stop about everything – journey, nervous breakdowns etc. Aisha was a real name-dropper and never stopped talking – even when we went to bed, I couldn’t get to sleep first because of them talking (to me) and then when finally silence reigned, Aisha got attacked by bed bugs and woke me three times, once to complain, second to ask for a blanket to sleep in and, third, for powder which I couldn’t find,. So I got a very bad night, especially in view the journey to Ayun on the next day
Saturday 29th May
Peter‘s alarm went off at 4 am and soon after we all got up (three beds inside, three on the veranda). We breakfasted for the last time on paratha, marmalade and tea, not a sentimental last breakfast at all due to our guests, who kept firing so-called intellectual questions at Peter. As he foresaw the difficulty in getting them off, he suggested J, Palawan and I should get going while it was still cool.
It was a very steep climb up the side of the valley taking about two and a half hours, going solidly upwards. Poor J had tummy ache so our progress was hampered by lots of rests, of which I was only too glad.
At the top we found ourselves in a pinewood with huge fir trees towering over us, providing deliciously cool shade and a wonderful pine scent. We had a wonderful view from the top too, we could see up to Rumbur to Sheikhanandeh, Bumburet and all the peaks of the Hindu Kush – majestic towering above these secret valleys.
We came across several springs, gushing straight from the rocks, with wonderful sweet cold water. The way down was in my opinion even more arduous than the way up, as my feet soon became very sore – my shoe soles were becoming very thin and I could feel blisters appearing on the soles of my feet. So I had to climb gingerly down carefully placing each foot, whereas J rushed down and always had to wait.
Not far from Urgutch, we espied Peter and Saifullah and we waited for them so we could go to the village together. Saifullah and I got left behind so he took me to a relation’s house, where he thought the others were (they weren’t in fact) but we took advantage of being there and I drank the proffered lassi.
When we found Peter and J, the former was furious as there were no jeeps in Urgutch (Saifullah had said there would be) so he marched down to the main road with us trailing behind and we started to walk to Chitral.
Shortly a jeep to Ayun, not at all full, passed by and, as we wanted to pick up our bags and Peter his mail, we all went to Ayun and the jeep would also take us back to Chitral.
Many problems in Ayun eventually got sorted out and we were in Chitral by 3pm.
The Mountain Inn was full so we went to the Tirich Mir Hotel, very shabby but has at least got bathrooms, clean sheets and comfy beds. J and I went off to watch polo, very barbaric, and on the way back were passed and shouted at by Aisha and co in a jeep!
Delicious supper at the hotel – all kinds of veg, chicken rice, butterscotch pudding and coffee (still funny in the tum, however).
I think its pretty old
After supper we were sitting in our room when Aisha and Aksha came along, with some poor guy they had forced to come with them. They first accused us of not getting their jeep – unjustified as Peter had tried quite hard and then they were rude about Yassim, their Kalash guide and a friend of Peters, who had had endless trouble with their temperamental ways. Peter refused to believe something bitchy about him that Aksha said and she was furious – ‘You don’t believe me you think I’m a liar’ etc. What a cow!
They finally went after masses of complaints and a list of people Aksha was getting her father to get sacked for not kissing their feet, etc. What terrible bloody people – and supposedly educated, Aisha anyway – using such barbaric methods and tyranny to achieve their ends, when a few pleasant words and smiles would’ve done just as well
Vicky's Big Adventure 