Mumblings from Munchkinland #5- By appointment to HRH the Sovereign-Ruler of the Sefarid Empire and Most Noble Purveyor of 1\11 its Territo~ies, August Convenor of the Tyrolian Assembly, Adjudicator Emperticus at the_ High Court of Maar, and owner of Peop,-a small dog. Mumblings_from Munchkinland -- the only Uest Australian fanzine published in Pakistan! OF MOUNTAINS AND METEORS Summers in Peshawar are not pleasant. Temperatures soar into the 40s in May and then hang up there until mid-way through September. The best escape from the heat is to go north, towards the high peaks of the Hindu Kush, and that's exactly what we did recently. There are three major valley chains in northern Pakistani; the westernmost one is Chitral. There are two ways to reach it. One is to travel for 15 hours along winding roads in an ornate but cramped bus driven by a mad (in one sense or another) Pakistani, eating meals in shabby roadside "diners", being deafened by the bus horn and choked by dust. The other way to get to Chitral is to fly in. This takes half an hour in an air-conditioned Fokker Friendship, with a light snack served en route and spectacular views of the mountains all the way. We decided to fly in. The only catch with flying is, weather conditions can turn nasty very suddenly, resulting in last-minute cancellations. Although this happened to us, we made it off the next day and the flight into Chitral was spectacular, swinging in between high mountain peaks capped with snow, with tiny villages clinging to the hillsides. It was over all too soon. We got a good look at Chitral as we flew in, since the airport is north of the town and the planes have to come in very low. A jeep taxi took us into town and we asked to get dropped off at the Tirich Mir Hotel. Tirich Mir is the highest peak visible at the head of the valley and the hotel bearing its name had been recommended to us by a friend. The jeep driver gave us a funny look when we asked for it but then shrugged and headed down the road. When we got to the hotel, we saw what the joke was -- the rubble was still smoking in a few places. The place had been set alight the night before by a mob of villagers angry over the lack of aid received following an earthquake earlier in the year. Apparently the hotel had been owned by someone responsible for distributing the relief money. We found another hotel nearby and then went to see an Australian volunteer working with the local village women to develop and market their handicrafts. For some reason, the inhabitants of this valley do not have as wide a range of traditional crafts as those in the adjacent valley, Swat. Our colleague will be trying to figure out why during her stay in Chitral. Chitral is a fair-sized town, with a long bazaar along the main street, which runs parallel to the Kunar River. A polo ground is often the main attraction for townfolk and tourists -- the game originated in the northern areas of Pakistan and is still very popular. Substitute a beheaded sheep or goat for the ball and you have the Afghan game of buzkashi, which is also played up here. Yet another horseborne sport is naiza-bazi, or tent-pegging, shown opposite. We missed seeing all of these due to heavy rain just before we arrived which made the grounds too soft. - 2 - We found a few things in the bazaar and then took a walk over the river where we could see more fields and trees. The hillside above the fields looked odd from a distance and turned out to be tillite -- a conglomerate of boulders, stones and gravel deposited by a glacier as it receded up the valley. I clambered about a bit and then met Megan at the base of the cliff. I was not surprised to find her surrounded by local children. - 3 - On our way back to the bridge across the river the father of some of the kids invited us into his home. Behind the mudbrick walls was a small compound with fruit trees, a vegetable patch and a few mudbrick buildings. The kids kept running around and peering at us as we sipped a cup of tea with the man and then Megan and I were separated so she could sit with the women. Both the father and I knew some Dari, so we were able to have a short conversation about his family and home. It was very pleasant. The next day we set out for the Kalash valleys. The Kafir Kalash, or Black Infidels, are an anomaly in Pakistan -- non-Muslims who have inhabitated three small valleys below Chitral for centuries. Many have light complexions and eyes and the story goes that they are descendants of Alexander's army. The "black" comes from the black dresses worn by the women, but over these they wear elaborate necklaces, vests and head-dresses, decorated with bright beads, buttons, cowrie shells, embroidery and red pompoms. The men, in contrast, wear just the normal shalwar kameez. The Pakistani tourist office exploits the Kalash people in that they feature heavily in all of the brochures, but, being animistic in their beliefs, the government seems to feel no responsibility to protect them and their culture. A larger group of Kalash living across the border in what was originally Kafiristan were forced to accept Islam by the Afghan rulers last century. The area is now known as Nuristan, meaning "Land of Light". The Government of Pakistan obviously wants their Kalash to "see the light", too, for they're allowing more and more Muslims to move into the valleys and mosques are now a common sight. The two valleys we visited seemed to be 60% Muslim already. In the remaining valley, the Kalash have taken things into their own hands and blocked the only road in. We stayed overnight with a Kalash family who had tacked a sign to their home reading "Kalash View Hotel". In fact, they merely had a spare room to rent out -- and that was given to an Austrian researcher who knew the family well and had shared the jeep into the valley with us. They put Megan and I up in a building next door which turned out to be the community meeting place. Luckily, no meetings were scheduled for the time of our stay. The guidebook we had listed a number of hikes one could take amid the mountains here and suggested that the walk from Bumburet, where we were, to the adjacent valley, Biror, was one of the least strenuous. That sounded like our level of hike. We fell for it. Our host suggested we take a guide -- actually, he suggested we take the road to Biror first, but we didn't listen -- and arranged one for us the next morning. We started out after breakfast, past the ornately carved doors and animal figures of some of the homes, over the river and across alpine-like grassy slopes. This was going to be a cinch, we figured. Half an hour later, we began to wonder, as we stood just a short way up a mountain that looked to go on forever. As the slope got steeper, our pauses to enjoy the view became more and more frequent. After a few hours, we hit the tree-line and began to march past pines instead of slate and scrub. The wild mountain strawberries tempted us to rest a while every now and then, but we eventually made it to the top. The climb had taken us four hours. [continued on p. 14] - 4 - THE GREAT PESHAWAR MOVIE BINGE (AND WHINGE) It's hard to keep up with all the latest cinema releases living in Peshawar. There are a few movie theatres here but nowhere near as many as one would find in Australia or the US. In any case, the local theatres usually only show Pashtu films or violence films from Hong Kong dubbed into English. These film ads should give you some idea of what I mean. The Pashtu films are typically long, violent musicals. Fights and shoot-outs are interspersed with scenes of plump women (they like them big here) trilling high-pitched tunes, swinging their generous thighs and making eyes at the beefy heroes. Plots usually revolve around revenge. When a Western film does show up, it tends to be of the same genre, though cheap horror films are also popular -- particularly those with sadomasochistic elements. Video stores do a flourishing business. Many stock only Indian and Pashtu films, though the ones closest to University Town cater to the expatriate community. We managed to get a video machine at our house for a few days recently so we went on a movie watching binge. All of the local videos seem to be pirate copies, some so poorly taped as to be unwatchable. And all of them are annoying, as the video stores run advertisements across the bottom of the screen for the entire movie! Some are even worse. One we saw had obviously been recorded in a cinema, as the quality was terrible and shadows of people going to and from their seats passed across the screen every so often. We had to laugh. Many of the films we watched had an sf or fantasy bent, though one of the best was a 12th century romance about Abelard and Heloise, Stealing Heaven.