A South Asian Frontier

He blinked at me in bewilderment, his striking green eyes staring out confusedly from beneath a fringe of blonde hair. Our mode of transport this high up in the mountains of Pakistan’s Hindu Kush is a donkey caravan of sorts, and being the natural equestrian that I am, my donkey has had his way with me and dumped me at the edge of a stream. The boy’s features contort in conflict as he tries to mirror the disdain of the woman beside him. A lesson in futility, he abandons the effort in unconcealed hilarity as I attempt to drag my transport away from its dogged attempts to devour some prickly-looking bushes. No doubt that’s where the beast’s temperament comes from. You are what you eat, aren’t you? As I croon and coax and wrestle with the obstinate ass in ever-increasing exasperation, I notice the woman’s shoulders shaking. She covers her face with her headscarf, its little bells chiming a chorus with her guffaws and my curses. She shoves the boy in my direction with a quick word.Chest out, shoulders back and head held high on his scrawny neck, he strides forward and confidently takes hold of Hades’ bridle (he can’t possibly have any other name after this). Immediately recognizing a superior authority, the donkey meekly turns his head and stands to attention. I can qualify this as nothing less than some kind of animal witchcraft.
The villages of the Kalash people, whom I’ve unwittingly and quite literally stumbled upon, are our final destination on this roadtrip. Famed for their stubborn hold on a religion that is routinely described as pagan, in a region that is predominantly Islamic, the Kalash are a peaceful and desperately independent people. To get here, our first stop was Taxila, a UNESCO World Heritage and archaeological site where Buddhist temples lie in picturesque ruins. We’d traversed the stunning Swat valley, and were privy to Pashtunwali, the impressive ethical code of the fiercely proud Pashtun tribes of the region. We’d traipsed along the mountain passes in the Chitral district, and were severely berated by our frantic guides for wandering off much too close to the Afghan border. I looked up from my speculation of Hades to see my travelling party cackling at me. Unfortunately my ignominious struggles were seen by all.
And still the solemn green eyes of that little boy follow me. Mischievous and laughing, then hooded and far too serious for someone so young, he was like Pakistan herself. One day, she will be free of the scourge of radicalism.