We awoke at 6 AM to the usual clamor of our kind, but clumsy kitchen boy fumbling with the tin cups and metal utensils on the thin metal table. While laying exhausted in bed, it seems as if he is dumping everything out of a bucket from a considerable height, and then scraping and slamming it all on the pangy, tinny sounding metal table. Hardly the most pleasant sound to be awoken by, but it is softened by the spread awaiting us of fruit, cereal, omelette, and an assortment of fruit juices and teas when we finally emerge. They even had honey for my green tea! After a light breakfast and a few cups of tea, we learned that we were having to postpone the days’ hunt to await the arrival of a wildlife management officer traveling from Islamabad. He had heard news or our activities from afar, and had decided to come and check for himself that nothing was awry.
Being counseled that it may be a few hours before we headed out, Brady and I decided to go in search of photographic opportunities. We didn’t have to go very far, as there was a group of children playing right outside the house that we were staying in. We began photographing them, and showing them the shots afterwards, which was followed by fits of childish laughter and applause. Very soon after, a crowd had gathered outside of the gates to the house, and so we quickly worked our way into their ranks and hearts. It turns out that they were all school children from across the street, and were waiting on their day of class to start. They were all wearing their school uniforms in the form of mustard yellow Shalwar Kameez, and ALL wanted to have their picture taken.
Shy Boy Before School
Before School Photo Shoot
The kids quickly began a game of finding the shyest kid, who was promptly dragged over by a larger classmate, propped in front of me, and ordered to stand still. I normally would not take someone’s photo who did not want it taken, but I couldn’t let my now large and rowdy photography mob down. Then some of the younger beaters started to get involved, pointing to some of the elderly men and saying “Big trophy! Big Trophy!” So I obliged. More and more boys kept running over and grabbing my hand, anxious to take me to a new photo opportunity that they had discovered. One was a hundred year old gardener, another a mentally deranged “village idiot” covered in feces, and even a young man they called Osama because of his full and lengthy beard. And so it went for an hour or so until their teacher rode up on a motorbike, and they were called in to take their test.
Big Trophy!
Osama
“Baba” the Gardener
While the students were taking their test, Brady and I talked to their 4 teachers for awhile. There were very interested in our lives and stories of the many places that we had traveled, and you could tell how honored they were to host us, and to tell of their lives and families. One of the teachers had beautiful blue eyes, which was a striking contrast in features to those around him. They all made me write down my name, email, and website address, and they all promised to go to the site and look through my photographs. That is a promise that I am sure will be kept. With hugs and handshakes, we said goodbye, apologizing for distracting their students during exams. We could tell that they couldn’t care less about the exams in comparison to the company and community that we had shared together; a sign that these rural villagers had life appropriately prioritized, and were genuine, warm, and hospitable as a result.
Cleaning the Slates for the Test
Blue Eyed Rural Teacher
Once we finally got out to start the hunt, our guide realized that he had left the guns back in the village. So he sent the driver back, and we awaited his return. But the time waiting was not spent idly; I practiced my tiger form, (Kung Fu seems to mystify villagers anywhere) stacked rocks, and then Brady and I played a really competitive game of “rock throw.” Once the guns arrived, we hiked up the mountainside, and awaited the scared stampede of swine to arrive. Despite the late start, it was the most successful hunt so far, being the demise of 6 wild pigs (Brady shot 4, and the dogs got 2). It was quite a spectacle to see a wild boar running for its’ life with 3 or 4 dogs on its’ tail, and then to hear its’ final squeals echoing up the canyon as the dogs finally caught it, and ripped it apart. Despite the success, the hunt was not without incident, as one of the dogs and its’ master were both injured by the same boar. After Brady wounded the swine, the brave dog got ahold of it, but not without sustaining some injuries. As the dogs’ master rushed in to its’ rescue, he stabbed the pig in the heart with his spear. The boar retaliated by rushing towards him, slightly goring his leg with a sharpened tusk, and being nearly 200 pounds, managed to knock the man off balance and down onto a pile of rocks. He hit his head and split it open, but heads bleed too much anyway, and he was fine after a quick field patching.
On the drive home, we learned about the unique life of our driver. He was 24 years young, and came from a very large family (19 uncles, 21 aunts, and 14 brothers and sisters). He was from the tribal areas of Northern Pakistan, where it borders Afghanistan, and had seen and shaken the hands of many American troops. It was very interesting to hear his stories and opinions, translated from Urdu to English by our guide, and to hear his questions for us. From what he said, the reason that the war continues to go on in Afghanistan is because for every innocent person that is killed as “collateral damage,” there is an angry and mourning family, and a surrounding village that supports it. And in their village and culture, if a family member is killed, then it is up to the men to take vengeance. To not do so, according to these tribal freedom fighters, is an act of cowardice, and would lose a man his honor and respect among the family and community. And so for every innocent killed by US or other allied forces, many more new enemies are being bred in the families and villages who would otherwise be peaceful. Our driver assured us that if American troops left his area, that there would be peace in the region. He also said that there was no reason for us to be there anyway, as Osama bin Laden was already dead. He said it was futile to try and send troops after an invisible organization like Al Queda, and that we were wasting our time, money, and efforts. I felt very fortunate to hear this young man share his life story and attitudes towards the war that is being waged in his tribal region. But he was well aware that the American troops were just doing what they were told to do by the government, following orders, and so his anger was not directed at them. Nor was it directed at us, but in fact the opposite, as he invited us to his wedding in June. He insisted that we come visit him and stay with him in the village, so that he could personally show us the beauty of his tribal region, and that the people were peaceful and hospitable. It is a genuine and tempting offer, but realistically will not happen. Nevertheless, I learned a lot about what goes on in that area, and how it affects the local people and their families, something I could have never learned from the US.
