Ishkashim - Afghanistan

Sophie Ibbotson:

For the last few days we’ve been following the Tajik-Afghan border. At times Afghanistan has been so close you could almost reach out and touch it, but still it remained out of reach. That is until now.

We crossed into Afghanistan shortly after 5pm yesterday evening. The riverbed that demarcates the border is home to two rusting tanks – hardly the best of signs – but the excitement pulsing through my body was tangible. I have wanted to come to Afghanistan for as long as I can remember and now, 33 days after leaving London, I had arrived.

Our first stop in Ishkashim was in the bazaar to buy kamiz (long tunics) for the boys. On the Tajik side of the border everyone had been in western dress but here it is different: men predominantly wear salwar kamiz (baggy cotton trousers and tunics) and a number of women are in burqas. The stall where we shopped was also selling an admirable collection of Scottish and Italian regimental jackets, so an armful of those came into the truck as well. They won’t be worn in Afghanistan but will make for good fancy dress and storytelling back home.

Our home in Ishkashim is the Aga Khan Guesthouse. For those unfamiliar with the Aga Khan, he is the hereditary head of the Ismaili Muslims, many of whom live in northern Afghanistan. The Aga Khan is their religious leader but also runs a successful business empire, the proceeds of which are used to fund development projects wherever Ismailis are to be found. These development projects range from schools and health centres to road building and the University of Central Asia.

Our first introduction of the guesthouse and its hospitality was dinner. After weeks of monotonous shashlik and a variety of barely edible meals, a feast of pilau, mutton, salad and daal was laid out before us. Afghanistan has, I think, one of the finest cuisines on the planet, and the Aga Khan’s staff were certainly able to do it proud. I ate until we I was ready to pop, then fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Steve Dew-Jones:

The start of our time here in Afghanistan has been, I believe, rather fitting. Due to a series of security issues along the road to Faizabad – culminating in the burning down of a school – our proposed journey has been delayed and we shall reside in the border town of Ishkashim for at least another day.

The journey to the Ishkashim border yesterday was easy enough and the crossing as smooth as that into Tajikistan. On the other side of the border we were met by our new driver, Jamaludin – I’m going to call him “Jam”. It seems strange that having driven our car all the way here we shall no longer be permitted to do so, but this is Afghanistan and, as one of the locals told me last night, we simply do not understand the level of security issues that lie ahead.

For now, I sit in the courtyard of this pleasant, if overpriced, guesthouse and stare longingly over at a set of breathtaking snow-capped peaks. Afghanistan is as beautiful as it is dangerous and I am already feeling right at home here. The four of us lads have got ourselves man-dresses and last night we enjoyed the best meal we’ve had in a long, long time. The rice they have here is divine, and the choice of stews equally sumptuous.

We spent the bulk of last night’s feast being schooled in Dari by the two young Afghans we shared it with. Apparently, regardless of my five weeks in Iran speaking Farsi, it’s back to the drawing board because my accent alone renders me incomprehensible.