Chapter-7: Journey from Bamyan to Punjab

A Perilous Journey to Panjab: Missteps, Tensions, and Relief

The Optimistic Start

At 11:30 AM, we set off from Bamyan toward Panjab, a drive my drivers assured would take 3-4 hours. The backdrop was hauntingly beautiful—the empty niche where the colossal Bamyan Buddha once stood loomed behind us, a silent witness to the Taliban’s destruction. With two cars in our convoy—mine leading, followed by Afghan engineer Naeem—I settled in, lulled by the verdant valleys and farmers tending terraced fields.

A Nap Turns to Navigation Chaos

I dozed briefly, waking to a landscape still unfolding outside my window. By 3:30 PM, unease crept in. “How much farther to Panjab?” I asked the driver. He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. By 4:30 PM, frustration mounted. I insisted he ask locals for directions. Reluctantly, he stopped, only to return with grim news: he’d missed a critical mountain pass. Panjab was now hours away via a detour.

Twilight Desperation

As dusk fell, the drivers halted to perform wudu (ritual ablution) and pray. I called Steve Pantling, CHF’s security advisor, relaying our coordinates via GPS. His response was sobering: “You’re nowhere near Panjab. Find shelter.” But pressing on felt safer than stopping in Taliban-influenced terrain.

A passing townace (shared taxi) driver warned, “This is Taliban territory—keep moving.” My driver, however, argued to stay put. Tensions exploded when he demanded I exit the car and walk. “I hired you—you drive!” I snapped. After a heated standoff, he grudgingly continued.

A Harrowing Night

By 9:45 PM, we reached a dimly lit village. Dinner was boiled eggs, rice, and a warm Pepsi—a small comfort. I slept fitfully in the car, door locked, hyperaware of every rustle in the darkness.

Dawn Deliverance

At 5:30 AM, we resumed the drive. Within 45 minutes, Panjab materialized—a cluster of mud-brick homes and CHF’s modest office. Exhausted and frayed, I staggered inside. Engineer Mehmood greeted me, but my relief was short-lived. I ordered the immediate termination of both drivers, their recklessness having jeopardized our safety.

Settling In

Ian, the project manager, outlined our site survey plans. My accommodations? A sparse room in the office—bare walls, no amenities. Yet, after two days of turmoil, it felt like sanctuary.

Reflections

1. Trust, but verify: Blind faith in drivers’ familiarity cost hours and safety.

2. Cultural friction: Language barriers and conflicting priorities (prayer vs. urgency) tested patience.

3. Resolve over comfort: Survival in Afghanistan demands grit—sleeping in cars, tolerating uncertainty, and confronting risks head-on.

In the Hindu Kush, every mile is a test—and reaching the destination, a hard-won triumph. 🏔️🚗..

[I am next to my office building!!]

.........

[This is what we call an Office in Afghanistan]