Ramzan

october

The first weeks I spend in Islamabad and Peshawar traveling forth and back. The month of my arrival happens to be Ramzan – the fasting month in Islam. Between the first Morning Prayer and the iftar prayer (around 5:45pm) one does not eat, drink, smoke etc. this includes even water and medicine.
For a few days I join Ramzan, but my body seems to be a little different. People here don’t eat during the day and make-up-for it at night by wolfing down an incredible amount of food. My stomach shrinks if given nothing a day long and I just can’t eat that much in the evening.
I like the ceremony when the iftar prayer is heard – people would already been waiting in position but then snatch a date, keep still for a while, thank for the food and continue. Usually a thick soup will open the dinner, then people would be off for prayers to return and continue eating for quite a while.

1 or 2 days ahead of EID – the final festival that signifies the end of the fasting month – I went up to Chitral or better Drosh, where from Imtiaz picked me as he had invited me to spend the Eid days with his family.
Saying “1 or 2 days” does not mean I can’t remember. At departure we thought it was one day, but when we arrived we came to know that it would take another day. The tradition says, one should finish fasting as soon as one sees the first crescent of moon after new moon. The next day would be Eid.
Government wants to pin the celebrations to fixed dates, but not all regions agree with this decision so Eid is celebrated on different days. In Peshawar for example Eid was celebrated on the day of our departure, in Chitral only 2 days later, on 25th of October.

When crossing Lawari, the famous mountain pass to enter Chitral, we see a badly damaged flying coach lying up-side-down on the slopes. It must have fallen down from even higher above. Luckily no one has been hurt people said, but watching the remnants of the car I could hardly believe that.
Streets – if one can call this collection of potholes streets – are dangerous, drivers are tired after driving 10, 11 or even more hours from Peshawar.
Only a few days ago a jeep driver was fighting with passengers while another car tried to overtake. 12 people died when the jeep toppled down the ridge.
We drive on, even more careful.

The Eid days I spend with Imtiaz family. The house is full of relatives and guests; all kind of food is available. Traditional delicacies, sweets – what ever one can think of. Children get gifts and people got new dresses. The last days of ramzan are spend shopping.

After 2 days I go to Chitral, do my registration, some shopping for the valleys and gather information about the last projects. The longer I stay and the more people I meet the more work piles up for a next visit.
For the first time I even have a mobile phone here – and it works…
In the afternoon I find some hours to go up to the summer palace. A wonderful place high above Chitral where the old Mehtar – kind of king of Chitral in the old times – had the first road built to reach that beautiful abode and had a palace built. I had been there once before, when Gael, a Swiss guy recorded a music program of musicians in front of the golden glooming Hindukush peaks in the last rays of afternoon sun. An evening full of old melodies, dance and fun followed.
But this time its late afternoon, autumn has spread its colorful cloth where ever one could see deciduous trees.
That’s quite far down. The view is magnificent. Right below lies the town of Chitral. On the right hand – south for the geographers – a tiny roads winds towards Peshawar – and also to the crossings that lead to Biriu, Mumuret and Rukmu.
In the north Chitral Gol river fans out for one or two kilometers and unites again short before entering the farmland outskirts of the town. Its waters are of an amazing dark blue now in winter – a sight for sore eyes compared to the muddy brown soup in summers.
Between the river and the ridge I am standing on the broad and straight runway of Chitral Airport catches the eye. It looks short from above, but compared to the miniature runway in Bhutan which is only approachable through swoop landings the Chitrali one is very comfortable.
On the northern horizon a road disappears in the mountains – heading towards Buni, Mastuj and Shandur – and of course many other uncountable villages.
The hilly slopes all around are brown; some Hindukush peaks are glinting snowcapped. Most of the fields surrounding the city have already been harvested; the whole valley seems to be a harmony of autumn colors.
Friendly, peacefully, gripping.