MIANDAM, SWAT, Pakistan — It was during a casual conversation at dinner with my family in Peshawar that led to my visit to the picturesque and snowy mountains in northern Pakistan. I was surprised to learn that my grand nieces and nephews, ranging in age from 10 to 26, had never seen snow let alone watched the snow fall. On a whim, I asked if they would like to go to Swat for some snowball fights. All hands shot up.
The Swat region was once part of the great Gandhara Empire that contained the present day Afghanistan, Pakistan, western India, and a contiguous swath of China. It was a Buddhist empire that existed between 1st and 5th century CE. Even today, the mountainous terrain of Swat is littered with the Gandhara artifacts and exquisite statuary art.
Most recently, from the middle of the 19th century until 1969, Swat was a progressive and affluent state ruled by a string of enlightened kings. That period came to an end in 1969 when the state was absorbed in Pakistan and the hereditary rule was abolished. Since then, the region has seen the rise of religious fundamentalism, which in turn brought in the Taliban.
The Taliban closed girls’ schools, introduced the brutal Wahhabi version of Islam, and unleashed a reign of terror on the valley. They also shot Malala Yusafzai, a 15-year old girl who had defied the Taliban by attending school and becoming a strong advocate for girls’ education. Finally, in 2009, after two years of de facto Taliban rule, the Pakistan military went in and cleaned the place. Peace and tranquility has finally returned to the valley, and tourists from other parts of the country are beginning to visit to the area.
So, accompanied by my 12 grandnieces and grandnephews, I left Peshawar in a minibus for a three-day adventure.
On the way to Swat, 105 miles north of Peshawar, one crosses the Malakand Pass. In 1879, during the Pathan revolt against the British, a young Winston Churchill covered the conflict for the Daily Telegraph. In one of his dispatches he famously wrote, “Every rock, every hill has its story.” During the uprising, Mr. Churchill stayed in a tiny fortress, called a picket, for a few weeks. The picket can be seen in the distance bearing Mr. Churchill’s name.
A short distance before the Churchill picket, we were met by a dear friend with an Ohio connection. Dr. Shuaib Ahmad had once practiced in North Baltimore and lived in Bowling Green. In the early 1980s, he relocated to the mountains of Northern Pakistan, where he established a successful practice of internal medicine. Soft-spoken and extremely hospitable, Dr. Shuaib had arranged a sumptuous lunch on the bank of Swat River for us. Over lunch, Shuaib and I caught up from where we had left off many years ago.
In Swat, instead of staying in hotels, we opted to stay in government-owned rest houses. A throwback from the British Raj, such places were built for the convenience of visiting government officials. These places lack the amenities of a good hotel but provide clean beds and working toilets. Food is purchased in a nearby village and cooked on the premise by the staff. At the end of the stay, the visitors settle a modest bill. Some rest houses are elaborate with modern amenities, while others in remote areas are rather basic and rustic.
At Miandam, our next stop, the rest house was located at a considerable height with a panoramic view of the snow-covered mountains. It was a 2-bedroom facility with no heat and scarcely working plumbing. With temperatures hovering near freezing, it was hard to keep the small rooms warm by burning wood in small fireplaces. Miandam had received a hefty snowfall a few days earlier, and the ground was still covered with a thick blanket of snow.
Everyone in the group hit the ground running and started snowball fights. After all, the whole premise of the trip was to see the snow and indulge in vigorous snowball fights, and that they did with abandon.
At night, we weaved a story with everyone adding to the narrative. After three rounds around the table, our hero had been lost in a snow storm in a forest, attacked by a pack of wild wolves, seen apparitions in a snowy forest, came across a frozen dead camper, saw warring horsemen, and finally found his way home. It is interesting that the youngsters in the group wanted the hero to survive, whereas the older kids would add more twists and turns to the story. All of them, however, were projecting their own psychological makeup onto the story. It was a wonderful exercise.
After three glorious days, we reluctantly bade farewell to Swat and returned to Peshawar.
S. Amjad Hussain is an emeritus professor of surgery and humanities at the University of Toledo. His column appears every other week in The Blade. Contact him at: aghaji@bex.net.
First Published February 11, 2019, 11:45 a.m.
