Silent Nomad
A traveller with a camera!
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Remains of Soviet tank in Bamiyan

I was staying in a yurt in Bamiyan which overlooked the valley where the famous Buddha statues were destroyed by the Taliban. Having done much in the valley already, I went for a walk near some farm fields where I had earlier spotted the remains of Soviet military vehicles.

Camera in hand, I managed to get some closeups of those vehicles including this T-54 tank. Moments later, a uniformed man starts shouting at me from across the field and began approaching. I watched as he got to my position. I wasn’t sure what he was saying, but he was pointing at my camera and he wasn’t letting me leave. Luckily, a farm worker saw what was happening and came over to help, and he spoke English! He translated saying that the uniformed man was police, and that he wanted to know if I had a permit to take photos. I said that I wasn’t aware of the need for permits. And then he wanted my passport. I showed him my passport, but I didn’t hand it over. As I had refused to hand over my passport, he wanted me to accompany him to the police station. I said no. Lots of shouting. A standoff.

He radioed his colleagues and soon there were several police surrounding me. And then appeared one chap shouting angrily as he walked across the field. It was the boss. Same arguments…he wasn’t going to get hold of my passport, and I wasn’t going to the police station. I said I was British, and that my friends were waiting for me nearby. So I stayed in that field answering his questions on the who, what, why and when of my journey. Anyway, it turns out that they were worried about terrorists from Pakistan, especially with the elections only a few days away. After much talking, they let me go, and I shook hands with the police chief. I was questioned several times by the security forces throughout my travels in Afghanistan, but I guess they had legitimate concerns; literally life and death.

Pottery in Afghanistan

Istalif village in Afghanistan is high up in the mountains, and surrounded by pleasant lands. It’s also rather famous for its colourful and somewhat rustic pottery. I bought a few pieces of pottery here 10 years ago. The people then were very happy to have their photos taken and to show-off their pottery. The village itself has been through quite a few traumas over the years, and its heritage and livelihood are at risk. Construction and security can certainly help, but it needs visitors, or a way to get its pottery to a wider market. Here, a young lad took me into his store and was very keen to show me the brightly coloured ceramics.

Young boy in Bamiyan, Afghanistan

Bamiyan, Afghanistan. The place where two giant Buddha statues, the Bamiyan Buddhas, stood for over 1,500 years before being obliterated by the Islamist group known as the Taliban in 2001. I managed to get there in 2009, and explored the area for historically significant sites.

The valley is quite fertile with many small farms. On our long walks between the Buddha statue niches and our yurts, it was quite common to cut across these farms. I encountered this young boy who had been looking after some sheep. He was quite a happy lad and enjoyed having his photo taken.

Mazgouf in Baghdad

It was April 2011, just after dusk, and we made our way to a restaurant in central Baghdad along Abu Nawas Street by the River Tigris. This area is well known for serving Iraq’s favourite fish dish; the “mazgouf”.

The restaurant, although having a roof, is open to the elements and was filled with many customers; obviously a popular place.

Having selected our live carp (allegedly from the adjacent Tigris but more probably from a fish farm), the cook removed the fish from the tank and then stunned them with a stick, gutted them by cutting along the back, applied some seasoning, and then impaled them to be slow-grilled next to an open fire of burning fruit tree branches such as from lemon trees and orange trees. What we didn’t realise was that it takes about an hour or so to cook the fish, so we had a lot of time to chat!

Carp are bottom feeders and if they were from the Tigris around Baghdad then I’m not sure that I’d have too many fish dinners; there’s just been too much dumped in the river. Once I’d got past wondering where the fish came from, I did enjoy the meal.

But the mazgouf is an important dish to the Iraqis and the Iraqi diaspora, and it helps to unite them through social gatherings and reinforce their identity and uniqueness; something that’s very much needed in these trying times.

Central Afghanistan

There we were, travelling along the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan. A journey through mountain passes and dry valleys, along dried river-beds and empty places on lonely roads, with nothing more than dust-devils keeping us company. Low temperatures and the glare of the sun added to the harshness of the landscape.

However, it was a challenge that I enthusiastically seized in my quest to reach the fabled Minaret of Jam, a place that only a few travellers reach. But here, in the middle of nowhere, there was human activity; a rest-stop for truck drivers hauling their goods across the country, a place to stretch the legs and take shelter from the elements.

Although it was August, the place was cold, and I couldn’t imagine what this place would be like in winter. A hardy landscape creates a hardy people. This man tendered to our needs with chai and food, his face betraying the challenges of the environment.