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| Garam Chashma, la source d'eau chaude et l'accumulation de travertin. |
The road is the same that the one who leads to Sonya's village. A beautiful road, if we consider the villages of the valley drawn by the Panj river. Strange feeling to see this Afghan land churned up by the war for thirty years. This part of Afghanistan is populated with Tajiks. I think of the Afghan Che Guevara, the man who his companions called the Lion of Panjsher, murdered by Al-Qaeda kamikazes, over there, beyond the mountains I can see. The comparison seems relevant because the Argentine revolutionary was one of Massud inspirers. Have they not an air of resemblance, the same bushy beard, the one with his beret, the other one with his pakol ? On both sides of the river, the countryside differs not much. Not lots of activity, some farmers who are going about their work. On that side, houses and roads look more precarious than on this side. Do the inhabitants of the both sides know each other ? Do they give some neighbourhood signs ? I will forget to ask this question. Herds of black goats. In fields, the threshing is hand-made. The wheat is scattered in large circles and children are leading around four oxen which are trampling it to separate the grain from the chaff.
Become curious because of the Poles, I decided to go to Ishkashim. The urban area is cut in two by the river and the border, a bridge allowing to cross the both. It is one of the rare border posts between the countries, but the drug traffickers prefer to operate in more discreet places, by using tires which they pull from one bank to the other by means of ropes. The sky is overcast and it is cool. Except his Afghan market, the village has nothing remarkable. I meet Gulsifat, pretty brunette of 21 with green eyes who, like all girls here, makes efforts to study, courageous ambition when they have beside to help in houseworks. She aims at becoming teacher. Her first name means "pleasant like a flower". There is often, in the female names in Central Asia, the root "gul" (flower) combined with a prefix or a suffix. Central Asia is a flower garden. She invites me to share a chorba with his brother Manuscher and his friend. They offer me some vodka but without serving themselves. Manuscher warns me, it is Sunday and there is no bus for the return. Gulsefat takes me back and tells me that, if it is, I can spend the night at home.
Unfortunately, I find easily a driver for Garam Chashma, a village on the same P45 road. Halfway from Khorog, we take a 8 km of mountain track to arrive at this other village. The first thing we see is the protuberance of pearly white marshmallow that is in the entrance. It seeps water and seems waved by spasms with the influence of geysers of hot water. The place is famous for baths in its sulphurous water which cures skin diseases, gout, rheumatisms and chronic headaches. Beside the spring are a sanatorium and a hotel where I lunch of chicken plov. I am the only customer and the blond-haired waitress is bored. I cross the village up and down, drawn by the simple charm of the Pamirian houses.
Become curious because of the Poles, I decided to go to Ishkashim. The urban area is cut in two by the river and the border, a bridge allowing to cross the both. It is one of the rare border posts between the countries, but the drug traffickers prefer to operate in more discreet places, by using tires which they pull from one bank to the other by means of ropes. The sky is overcast and it is cool. Except his Afghan market, the village has nothing remarkable. I meet Gulsifat, pretty brunette of 21 with green eyes who, like all girls here, makes efforts to study, courageous ambition when they have beside to help in houseworks. She aims at becoming teacher. Her first name means "pleasant like a flower". There is often, in the female names in Central Asia, the root "gul" (flower) combined with a prefix or a suffix. Central Asia is a flower garden. She invites me to share a chorba with his brother Manuscher and his friend. They offer me some vodka but without serving themselves. Manuscher warns me, it is Sunday and there is no bus for the return. Gulsefat takes me back and tells me that, if it is, I can spend the night at home.
Unfortunately, I find easily a driver for Garam Chashma, a village on the same P45 road. Halfway from Khorog, we take a 8 km of mountain track to arrive at this other village. The first thing we see is the protuberance of pearly white marshmallow that is in the entrance. It seeps water and seems waved by spasms with the influence of geysers of hot water. The place is famous for baths in its sulphurous water which cures skin diseases, gout, rheumatisms and chronic headaches. Beside the spring are a sanatorium and a hotel where I lunch of chicken plov. I am the only customer and the blond-haired waitress is bored. I cross the village up and down, drawn by the simple charm of the Pamirian houses.
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| Maison avec fourrage à Garam Chashma. |
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| Tapchanes à Garam Chashma. |
The return will be a different kettle of fish. Because no vehicle runs, I join the P45 by foot. The small road is pleasant and smells the juniper berries. When I arrive at the main road checkpoint, policemen tell me to wait and offer me apples. The traffic is very low. Sometimes a motorist stops and slips to the policemen some cigarettes or a plastic bag with a mysterious content. Like the one who arrived at a quick pace with an ATV and who braked at the last second in a skid. Embrace with the policemen. It seemed to me to recognize Khush. But when I asked him, he looked at me maliciously and said something who seemed unfriendly towards our driver.
After one hour, a man joins me. He wears a waistcoat with the logo of European Union. Native of a nearby village, he works in Khorog for the Focus project financed by the EU, with the objective to reduce the poverty and to control natural risks. A Lada Niva finally arrives and the driver agrees to take us. He is a young guy who drives like crazy by steering brusquely on this winding rocky road. When my neighbor tells him to use less throttle, he laughs. I was not specially favorable to experience an accident on the P45, knowing that one side on this road is bordered by an escarpment leading to the rushing mountain river. But don't you think it is the unforeseen events which make attractive the journey ? Or its close. Bend, bank, rock, the Lada stops in a cloud of dust. It will not start again. The shock was rough and the strong car has only some little damages but the right front wheel spindle is skewed. We were lucky. If the crash had been on the other side, we would have ended up into the river and my journey would have found its close right here. An other vehicle drives us to Khorog. In it is already the men who danced with me at the wedding in Pish. He returns from the second day and his elocution shows that he has not been subjected to a fatwa concerning the consumption of vodka.
Back in Khorog, I look for a restaurant. Nothing, on Sunday evening everything is closed. Streets are quite plunged into the dark. Policemen and servicemen are standing at the crossroads. Some workers are hanging up welcome signs to the President and repainting facades in the main street. A President who arrives tomorrow and who must be very liked here if we judge it by the efforts made to welcome him with pomp. I am asked for my passport I left at the hotel. I explain that I would like to have dinner. I am offered to accompany me to a restaurant. I try to say that everything is closed, one insists. But one will be unable to find an open chaïkhana. At a small grocery, the boss (a woman) makes me his little number by singing a local tune. I go back to my hotel where the guard tells me that it is not because the door of the restaurant is locked that this one is closed. I shall have to leave tomorrow morning, he adds, because the entourage of the President needs all the rooms.
After one hour, a man joins me. He wears a waistcoat with the logo of European Union. Native of a nearby village, he works in Khorog for the Focus project financed by the EU, with the objective to reduce the poverty and to control natural risks. A Lada Niva finally arrives and the driver agrees to take us. He is a young guy who drives like crazy by steering brusquely on this winding rocky road. When my neighbor tells him to use less throttle, he laughs. I was not specially favorable to experience an accident on the P45, knowing that one side on this road is bordered by an escarpment leading to the rushing mountain river. But don't you think it is the unforeseen events which make attractive the journey ? Or its close. Bend, bank, rock, the Lada stops in a cloud of dust. It will not start again. The shock was rough and the strong car has only some little damages but the right front wheel spindle is skewed. We were lucky. If the crash had been on the other side, we would have ended up into the river and my journey would have found its close right here. An other vehicle drives us to Khorog. In it is already the men who danced with me at the wedding in Pish. He returns from the second day and his elocution shows that he has not been subjected to a fatwa concerning the consumption of vodka.
Back in Khorog, I look for a restaurant. Nothing, on Sunday evening everything is closed. Streets are quite plunged into the dark. Policemen and servicemen are standing at the crossroads. Some workers are hanging up welcome signs to the President and repainting facades in the main street. A President who arrives tomorrow and who must be very liked here if we judge it by the efforts made to welcome him with pomp. I am asked for my passport I left at the hotel. I explain that I would like to have dinner. I am offered to accompany me to a restaurant. I try to say that everything is closed, one insists. But one will be unable to find an open chaïkhana. At a small grocery, the boss (a woman) makes me his little number by singing a local tune. I go back to my hotel where the guard tells me that it is not because the door of the restaurant is locked that this one is closed. I shall have to leave tomorrow morning, he adds, because the entourage of the President needs all the rooms.
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