Three Faiths, One Day.
Easter Sunday 2006


I awoke on the day of the Resurrection in an Islamic nation with orders to travel to the former site of the world’s largest Buddhist statues. On rare occasion, I have found myself away from home on major occasions. The most recent being Christmas Day 1997; ill but committed to attending mass, I found myself at St. Paul’s in London listening to the Archbishop of Canterbury speak of the famous soccer match on Christmas Day during World War I when English & German soldiers set aside arms for sport…for a while.

Unfortunately, in this nation, there is no such goodwill. The Taliban destroyed the statues four months before 9/11. The region has seen war for over a thousand years, beginning with Buddhist monks retreating on a lone peak in retreat from advancing White Huns.

That said, Bamyan is the most intriguing place I have seen yet in Afghanistan. Indeed, a crossroads of cultures, today’s inhabitants are making good use of foreign investment and attempting to build a tourist destination once stability comes to the country. The statues, 35m and 53m high were build during the golden age of Buddhist influence between the 1st and 3rd centuries. In addition, hundreds of cave dwellings were built to accommodate traveling monks and their friends to the region to pray. The views of fertile valleys and snow-capped mountains from the caves are spectacular, resembling views one might see in Pagosa Springs, Colorado and Taos, New Mexico. The area was the primary link between Central Asia and the Sub Continent.

Following the White Huns, the Moslems showed up in the 9th century and things haven’t been the same since. They immediately destroyed the faces of the statues and hundreds of paintings in the caves as they felt, and still feel, that faces represent idolatry. That matter, I could write volumes, but not today. Anyway, their influence was only interrupted when Genghis Khan showed up for a weekend pillaging in 1221. He liked the place, but stayed too long & wore out his welcome. He became annoyed when his grandson was killed and thus destroyed the city. At least Genghis recognized good art and left the statues and caves alone.

Afghans being Afghans, they soon fought each other between battles with Russians, British, Soviets and others, leaving the city in ill repair. The Taliban’s final gesture was Mullah Mohammad’s thinking that if he did not destroy the statues; he’d have to answer to God and might not get his 72 virgins.

Upon arrival on a brisk Spring day, we immediately visited the statue area. I was surprised to see shell casings from the 2001 attack still lying on the ground. Several world agencies are attempting to preserve the area and have significant work ahead. We were given a special tour of the area and climbed carved spiral staircases in the sandstone accessing the statues and penthouse cave dwellings. After 2000 years, they are in surprisingly good shape. Artwork can still be seen on the cave walls, all faces wiped away by do-gooder Muslims. Someday, this place will be seen only through sterile settings. I had the privilege of seeing and touching. Though tempted, I left shell casings on site.


The significance of the day remained with me throughout. We ventured to the bazaar district (Main Street) and met an ABC (Australia Broadcasting Company) hippie radio crew. They were hanging out in Afghanistan for two weeks and trying to figure out stories their editor might like to justify their expenses. We dined at a local restaurant and I found it odd that though the radio woman was a strict vegan, she had to step out a couple of times for cigarettes. Afterwards, a local guy joined us on a trek up the hill where the Buddhists retreated and we watched men plow fields in the same manner they have for hundreds of years. Returning past a mud house, we were greeted by a cautious little girl who, though quite cute, smelled a lot like the piles of pan caked cow manure stacked behind her home and used for fuel.

After sightseeing, lunch and taking pictures of pan caked cow manure used as fuel, I stepped out for a run along the gravel runway. There is a camp of New Zealand and Americans at the end of the runway where we parked. An older Kiwi gentleman on a long walk gave me my only “Happy Easter” greetings. Until that point, I wondered if I was the only person in the entire region enjoying the significance of the day.

The eight-mile run took me to an open field near foothills; I came across two interesting metal cylinders with flared ends. I kept my curiosity at bay…as well as my legs. Though not certain what I saw, I know Afghanistan is among the most heavily mined countries in the world. I finished the run in tact and spent the remaining time drinking green tea with local airport personnel. My passengers, a road crew, arrived near sunset and a rare twilight flight with a setting sun over a wide canyon with snowcapped peaks finished…a Good Day.

JLH
 

Buddha statue up close

View from a Bamyan penthouse

Bamyan sandstone

Indiana Luken?

A girl and her fuel