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Time Stands Still
Sparsely populated
and well hidden from the rest of the world, Wakhan Corridor is as
medieval today as it was over 700 years ago when Marco Polo passed
through. Agustinus Wibowo visits the region.
 The awkward tongue of
Afghanistan,
located at the northeastern tip of the country, is a 200-mile-long
valley that stretches between Tajikistan and Pakistan. A strategic
territory created by the once-reigning
British Empire at the end of the 19th century, Wakhan Corridor was first
attached to Afghan territory as a buffer zone between
Britain and Russia.
Though the battle for
supremacy between the two giants has long ended, little seems to have
changed since then. Time has been suspended for what seems like
eternity.
Deprived of the
comforts of modern living, Afghans tend to paint rosy images of
Tajikistan, where women are not required to wear the burqa and
children receive the education they deserve. It’s a very different
story in the nearby land of the Wakhi and Kyrgyz people, where the
only rules that apply are those which enhance their survival.
The corridor’s
isolation from the rest of the world makes Afghan’s narrow passage –
only 10 miles wide -- at once mysterious and enchanting. With
the snow-capped mountains surrounding the region, it’s easy for
outsiders to forget the once-vital passageway between the Eastern and
Western parts of
Central Asia. It took me more than five days to reach Ishkashim, the tip
of Wakhan Corridor, by public transportation from
Kabul. Wobbly and
narrow wooden bridges hang over fierce river streams; the steep
mountain slopes are probably one of the reasons why the Taliban never
bothered to control the area.
 With its almost
100-percent illiteracy rate, most people who live in this region don’t
know how to tell a person’s age (including their own). Seasons come
and go, uncounted. Smoke drifts from the small window carved along the
roof of each dark mud brick-house. Shepherds wait idly for their
cattle to graze the surfaces of Pamir Mountains in the summer,
bringing them in months later when it’s too cold for anyone to go out.
Children understand nothing of mathematical equations and rely on
instincts to calculate time and distances.
Set apart from their
Afghan brothers and sisters who are struggling through decades of
warfare, the people in this valley remain welcoming toward strangers.
Visitors receive a series of greetings to ensure they feel safe and
happy. Despite their humble living conditions, the local people keep
their homes open for mehman (guests) who need shelter.
A Wakhi man says to
me, “We don’t go to
Mecca
for the haj. For us, giving bread, tea and shelter to mosafer
(travelers) is already a pilgrimage.”
What century is this,
I wonder.
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