Revolutions
Shannon Galpin
Photography by Shannon Galpin & Deni Bechard
In spring last year, I visited Bamiyan – the safest part of Afghanistan. It is an area of the country high up in the Hindu Kush best known for the destruction of the enormous Buddhas that overlooked the valley; blown up by the Taliban in 2001 to destroy evidence of Buddhist influence and further entrench Afghanistan as an Islamic state. The niches that housed the Buddhas are instantly recognisable when on arrival in Bamiyan, surrounded by the caves that pockmark the hillside, marking the region with a visible juxtaposition of the country’s four decades of conflict and centuries of history.
The upside of exploring Afghanistan is the lack of crowds. The only times I have felt the uncomfortable crush of crowds in Afghanistan are at the Blue Mosque in Mazar i Sharif, and in the markets of Kabul. As I walked through the village to purchase a ticket to visit the niches, I realised that I was the only person visiting the remains of the Buddhas that morning. You can still walk up the stairwells built around the small Buddha and look out across the valley at the spot where the head once was. Piles of rubble from the large Buddha are housed inside a cave at the base of the niche, while the piles of stones from the small Buddha are inside a protected box near the entrance. No decision has been made what to do with these, rebuild the Buddhas to their former glory, or leave the niches empty as a reminder of the destruction. So for now, you can walk amongst the piles of stones and marvel at how easily one blast of dynamite destroyed centuries of history and culture.
After visiting both Buddhas, I walked up the steep path that leads to the left of the large niche, winding past now empty cave dwellings, many with beautiful etchings still inside. Continuing up the narrow path, I found myself on the high plateau above the large niche with the most incredible view of any mountain range I have ever seen in Afghanistan, or anywhere in fact. At the far end of the plateau is a series of mujahideen trenches built into the landscape that overlook the entire valley. Old bullets litter the area, and as do sporadic land-mines. While this area is technically clear of land-mines, I learned firsthand the next day that thanks to the heavy snowfall that covers the area every winter, there is still unexploded ordinance (UXO) that emerges as the snow recedes each the spring. I hiked back up to the plateau with my mountain bike to explore a little further the following day, and at one point I unclipped my right foot to step off and saw something shiny. Instinct developed from working in Afghanistan means you avoid anything shiny on the ground, so I rode past, looked down and gingerly stepped off my bike onto a pile of rocks. I leaned over with my iPhone and took a photo before riding off. The email response to the photo from a friend in the military that has dealt with UXOs, and with the injured Afghan children that unfortunately pick them up thinking they are something to play with, was: “Yeah, that’s a land-mine. Looks unstable. Probably enough ‘boom’ to take a foot off.”
Afghanistan is an adventure travel paradise, if only the violence and instability could fade into the past like the visions of camel trains across the Silk Road.
Afghanistan is an adventure travel paradise, if only the violence and instability could fade into the past like the visions of camel trains across the Silk Road.
We met a few hours later at my guesthouse and rode through town to the empty fields in front of the Buddhas. Young boys were playing football and dust kicked up around them. As expected, locals stared and occasionally waved, and we soon picked up a train of young boys curious about the three girls, one a tall blond foreigner, riding bikes. We all rode laps around the fields, raced each other, and when we eventually stopped to let the dust settle, I realised we were surrounded by at least twenty young boys. There were a few young girls crouched together watching, and I saw the desire on their faces to ride. So did Zahra, and she nodded at them and said to me: “Girls deserve to have the same opportunities as boys, whether that’s education, or the right to ride a bike.”
Dusk was falling fast around us, and as we made to leave, one of the young boys who had been riding with us tugged at my sleeve and said in Dari, “I’m going to go home and teach my younger sister to ride.” Mission accomplished. The more that girls ride, the more acceptable it becomes. Zakia and Zahra are just a few of the young women that are leading the way, breaking gender barriers, and showing that girls can ride, and ski just like the boys. In any other country that would be enough, but in Afghanistan? That’s everything.
The next day I visited two major historical sites on opposite sides of Bamiyan. The first stop was an hour-and-a-half drive east to visit Afghanistan’s first national park, Band e Amir. The site is a series of six turquoise blue and green lakes, separated by natural dams made up of mineral deposits, one of only a few in the world. As we turned off the highway and drove down the still snow-covered dirt road to reach the lakes, the brilliant colour of the water emerged below as a rare oasis. Afghans come here every summer to picnic, explore the lakes, and swim. Although women are not allowed, there are rumours of creating a women’s only area on one of the lakes where women could swim together in privacy.
The red glow of the clay gives Shahr e Zuhak its name, and many of the walls, intricately carved, still stand. The hillside is dotted with white rocks everywhere, signs of land-mine clearance, and it is strongly advised to be careful where you step as land-mines still turn up with alarming regularity both on and off the path. My driver guided me across the filed and to the steep path that leads to the city. The hike through the old city ruins, and to the top of the hill is stunning and I had the place to myself. As I reached the small outcropping at the top, there was my driver, sitting nonchalantly on a gun turret talking on his cellphone, apparently unimpressed by the wide valley spread out below us, and the mountains that surrounded it that created an epic landscape easily rivalling any other in the world.
Shannon Galpin is the author of Mountain to Mountain: A Journey of Activism and Adventure for the Women of Afghanistan. She founded the nonprofit Mountain2Mountain, which works to empower women and girls in conflict zones, and is a National Geographic Adventurer of the Year.
Website: www.shannongalpin.com
Twitter: @sgalpin
Instagram: @sgalpin74