The Black Mountains of Balochistan

by Abrar Ibrahim (Sudan)

Making a local connection Pakistan

He turned back to me from the front row, pointing with his hand towards the mountains out of the window saying here it begins "The Black Mountains of Balochistan". I looked over the window, nothing but rugged mountains. I felt the shiver of apprehension. I looked around, everyone feels sick and exhausted. I pondered my Russian friend dozed in her seat. Mr.N looked back at me again asking this time: do you feel sick as well? Not waiting for my answer he continued with strange pride; do not worry as soon as we arrive the hotel will offer Solima's tea, we are famous for it, it has the effect of magic, treats all diseases and eliminates all fatigue. Once again, I glanced through the window, this time I could not bury the black fear that had hunted me! The area was previously known for many conflicts and was embroiled in hostile attitude against the government. These mountains were home to the Taliban movement for years, but the Pakistani government purged this territory. I closed my eyes thinking: did I make the wrong decision coming here? After half an hour, I opened my eyes shuddering under the strain, the craft landing instructions came in Urdu, so everyone started getting ready for landing. Outside, a bus was waiting to transport us. As we started moving, a mob moved with us. Four carts, each of which contains ten masked, armed soldiers. In addition to two cars of the special police force in the front and back. Wondering I asked Mr.N: why all this security? "It is a welcome protocol, we treat all foreigners like ambassadors," he said. As the bus steered inside the city, I began to notice the troops deployed everywhere. My eyes did not miss the snipers scattered on the roofs. I looked at Mr. N's assistance this time, without asking, he responds spontaneously, confidently, and with a smile "protocol"! Finally, we pulled up in front of the hotel. No place would fit these mountains better and more beautiful than this building. Three hours later, I was ready to explore, all refreshed and energetic! I wrote in my note: The first fact about Balochistan: Soliman's tea does magic (take some home). Mr. N told us that lunch today will be in the outskirt of the city between the mountains. In our way, my Russian friend asked about the feeling of the locals seeing the scowling police wandering everywhere with loaded rifles. In two seconds the answer came! The bus pulled to a side street avoiding the clogged, she pointed with her head out of the window, her eyes wide at the sight. Two men from the local carrying sacks filled with guns, laughing and chattering normally, while kids playing around! The place is breathtaking. The smell of lamb meat cooked under the ground is everywhere. Again, I didn’t miss the Snipers present at the tops of the mountains .I did not ask this time, I already know the answer. A local dancer started dancing in fast, swift moves the same time the band started performing ardent melodies. Everyone wrapped around him or fussed in small groups, he started to raise enthusiasm among everyone to participate in the dance, even I, the worst dancer, found myself participating in several rounds. After the delicious meal, we all decided to climb the mountains for a top view before leaving. From the middle of nowhere, four boys and three girls appeared, walking barefoot, having skin like dust and eyes like blazed stones glazed with a dark look. Everyone started taking pictures with them; the youngest boy clung to his sister's hand, or maybe his mother. Another fact: Children here are rare to smile. Minutes went by and I watched silently. Finally, one of the boys looked at me in a vacant, serious expression. I pointed to him to stand. With my old iPhone, I took a photo and then got close so he can see. He looked with deep-set eyes and reverence of a man in his 50's. A moment passed, so I raised my eyes to caught a glimpse, and for the first time, he Smiled! That was the only connection I made here.