One of the things that struck me in Chitral was how different people's lives have been to mine. I really wanted to hear people's stories and learn what life was like in a mountain village, particularly from the older people who must have so many interesting stories and witnessed such change in their lives. Sometimes it was frustrating not being able to ask people questions because of the language barrier, but while I was there I grabbed Asif and asked him to translate an interview with his mother. I wanted her to tell me what she chose and what she thought was important, so I didn't ask many questions at all, but just listened to her story....

She first started talking about her childhood. When she was very little she remembered playing with dolls as with many little girls, but she also remembered playing with the cattle! The dolls she had were all handmade and beautifully embroidered. When she got older she started helping her parents with domestic work, particularly cooking and sewing. Embroidery was very important - mats, coats, and even entire bridal dresses were all embroidered and then sold. The cost of a whole bridal suit was one ox. Everything was either grown or made themselves, and very little was bought in the bazaar. People did not really use money.

She had an arranged marriage, and had never seen her husband before the wedding. She made all her clothes and suits herself before her marriage. She said that she was very happy to get married, and she had a very caring husband and family with whom she got on well. One story she remembers from early in her married life was some robbers from Swat who came and stole five of their families horses. Her father in law went to meet the robbers in Swat and held a big community meeting and asked the robbers to return the horses. There was such a culture of respect to guests and her father in law was so popular that the horses were returned. One had already been sold at the market in Peshawar so they returned the equivalent price in money. But then horses were stolen a second time, and again her father-in-law went after them, but this time he met the robbers in the mountain and was fired at. A battle took place the whole day, but in the end the robbers ran out of bullets and accepted defeat. He was thanked by the police for this.

She remembers when Pakistan became independent. A national guard was formed in each village and they went around shouting 'Pakistan Zindabad' (long live Pakistan!). Some of those who were against Independence were socially boycotted - she remembers that one woman was forced to ride around the village on a donkey as a punishment. When Independence was declared both men and women came out to celebrate. She said that although people were illiterate it was celebrated with great pomp and show.

She has seen may changes in her village. When she was younger, everything was handmade, there were no vehicles but people used horses for any travelling. She used horses to travel between her parent's home and her husband's home. Then she started travelling in jeeps, then landcruisers, and now there are buses. First they were using lanterns for lighting, then gas, and now electricity. Another thing that has changed is awareness about the importance of education. Although she didn't have an education all her children are highly educated, and all grandchildren go to school.

'Now I am 71 and everyone likes me and I like everyone. People respect me because I am of a first religious family. My door is open to everyone, and they can all eat here. I like smiling faces very much.'

Life in a Chitrali village continued

Here follows a continuation of my description of life in a village in Chitral, in the mountains in the far north of Pakistan. Chitral is in the North West Frontier province, bordering Afghanistan and Swat. But I will remember the hospitality, generosity and friendliness of the people I met for the rest of my life. I stayed with a colleague for two weeks over Eid (the festival following Ramadan).

The houses in the village are mainly traditional, made out of wood, mud, water and stone. Many are built into the side of the mountain. A few times I was accidentally walking on house roofs rather than the mountain / fields, and the only way of telling was the smoke furling out of the chimney!

In an interesting juxtaposition, some houses had satellite dishes fixed to their roofs. Twas very bizarre sitting in Asif's very traditional house in the middle of the Hindu Raj mountains and watching a French film channel and German news.

The traditional houses usually have a large boundary around them, within which there are three buildings - the actual family house, a guest house and the cattle shed. The surrounding land is used for the animals. The guest house is usually a modern building, light and very colourfully designed inside. This really emphasizes the importance that Chitrali families place on entertaining guests well. Asif had built his guest house that I stayed in, and it was beautiful. In contrast the family houses were very traditional. The entrance was usually narrow, small and dark, and then you follow a small and dark corridor and enter the main room - which is the living area, the kitchen and the sleeping area. In the centre is the wood stove which provides all heating, hot water and where all the cooking is done. Around the stove is the sitting area where we have meals, and around that is the sleeping area. Whole extended families of ten people or more live in these houses. Eating with Asif's family was a real experience and very atmospheric - children, parents and grandparents were all crowded around the stove, and fresh meat, chappatis and vegetables were served on a cloth on the floor. Often we were eating by gaslight because the village hydro-electric power plant had broken.

The houses are very strongly built and withstand the frequent earthquakes in the area. Asif showed me a house that he said was over 600 years old. It was also designed so that it could withstand attacks from Nuristani bandits. Within the house the corridor was complicated, narrow and dark with sudden turns to put off any attackers:

The main room was well hidden at the back of the house.

Interesting aspects of local history are passed orally down the generations. For example, when we drove over the Shandur pass Asif showed me a stretch of land where he said that the people of his village met and welcomed a British force under Colonel Kelly. They welcomed the British because they did not like the Chitrali rulers against whom the British were fighting. I have since read that Colonel Kelly led a force of troops from Gilgit over the 12,000 ft Shandur pass in deep snow and impossibly difficult conditions to relieve a British force being sieged in Chitral city. I visited the fort in Chitral where the British were being sieged for several months. Unfortunately the fort is tumbling down now.


Two final observations remain: education was considered very important in the village. There were about nine primary schools for boys and girls in Asif's village alone, and some of the children walked eight miles a day to attend a particularly good school. And secondly, people in the village obviously collaborted a lot so that basic services could be provided in the village. Government interventions were not much in evidence in the village at all - most of the schools were community or NGO run, one road had been built by the community, and there was no electricity provided by the government. So, supported by an NGO, community members were busy building a new hydro-power plant which I visited.

Life in a Chitrali village

Imagine towering masses of barren rock stretching high into the deep blue sky. Impossibly steep slopes of scree reach from the top of a mountain to the bottom, with a light dusting of snow at the top. Fields in the valleys are brown as it is autumn and after the harvesting, but many poplar and birch trees are turning yellow. Fruit trees are beautiful hues of red and gold. There is a river running through the valley, the roar of which can be heard miles away as everything else is so quiet. Streams meander down from the mountains, the water sparkling and dancing in the sunlight. Traditional mud and stone houses, blending into the landscape, are scattered between the fields and golden trees. There are no roads. At night it is pitch black, the sky is a carpet of stars, and the absolute silence is all-enveloping. Snow leopards, ibex and bears prowl in the mountains. Welcome to Baleem, Chitral.

People in Baleem are almost completely self-sufficient – they grow their own wheat and maize for flour, vegetables, beans, and they have yaks, goats, sheep and cattle for meat. They make their own clothes, and carpets out of wool. The food is incredibly fresh and delicious. Breakfast is usually local maize bread eaten with butter, cream or cottage cheese, freshly made.

All families in the village own land used for crops, trees and pasture. Although land is divided between sons, generally all farming is done by the one big extended family, and the produce is eaten by the whole family. All the houses have big stores, where they keep food over the winter. While I was there, people were visibly preparing for the long and hard winter. Crops were being dried on the top of the houses,

yaks were beginning to be slaughtered, men were walking through the village carrying huge piles of grass for the cattle. Women were cleaning the wheat, preparatory to sending it to one of the many flour mills.

These mills are small huts built over fast flowing streams, where the water turns a stone, grinding the wheat and turning it into flour. People pay one shovel load to the worker at the flour mill for each sack of flour. Because the winter is so hard and long, families can do little more than eat and sleep, and try to keep warm! Now however, it is usual for some people to come to Islamabad. As well as owning land, many of the men move to cities to work, and many of the women work as teachers.

About 80% of the villagers are Ismaili, and 20% are Sunni – there are nine (!) Jammat Khanas in the village, and one mosque. But there seems to be quite a lot of inter-marriage – many of Asif’s family are Sunnis. People’s families are huge. I lost track of all Asif’s relatives I was introduced to, and quite quickly. Asif would say: and now we are going to visit my wife’s sister’s mothers brother in law, married to the person we met yesterday. I was reduced to smiling and nodding, although things got a little awkward when he tested me on the people we met…. It even took me a while to get the hang of all his family that lived in his house – four brothers, their wives and many beautiful children. The people I met were very proud to be Ismaili – many people said to me that the area was peaceful because it is Ismaili. And people were exceptionally friendly – everyone we met, almost without exception, greeted us with a salaam and a smile, and I was invited into so many homes and served with so much food. I really do not know how I can repay such generous hospitality. I hope I am doing so slightly now, by spreading the word at how amazingly generous the people of Chitral are.

The village is a lot more liberal than I expected. Women and girls walk feely around the village and valleys, often doing hard work. They greet and shake or kiss hands with men – it is traditional here for younger people to kiss the hand of older men or women as a sign of respect. The houses are always open for guests. Women can be the head of the household if they outlive their husband. Then they are consulted on all decisions related to the running of the household and greatly respected. But many of the girls and younger women are very shy, especially with a foreigner.

Everyone speaks Khowar, (also called Chitrali). Chitrali is spoken through the whole of Chitral, surprisingly enough, but also in parts of Ghizer, the neighbouring district in the Northern Areas (only accessible over the 12,000 foot Shandur pass). Many of the younger children and older people speak only a very little Urdu, and no English, which caused problems some times. When visiting one house, with the whole family from tiny baby to great grandmother staring avidly at me, I tried vainly to make conversation. And so I asked the old lady: apka naam kya hain (what is your name, in Urdu). She answered: ‘jam’ which is ‘good’ in Khowar, obviously not having understood a word!! The whole family burst out laughing, and conversation didn’t really flourish. The area is so isolated that the older people haven’t needed Urdu in their lives. There is only one phone in the village, electricity only at night, and seven hours in a painful jeep ride to the nearest city. Even now, for example, most of the people ignored the new daylight saving time introduced by Islamabad, and worked on the old timings.

To be continued …..

A window onto culture at the roof of the world

This entry is a brief interlude in my Chitral story. Never fear, the next stage will be written very shortly, but in the meantime one of my colleagues (Tayib Jan) has written an article about traditions in the Wakhi culture. The Wakhi people come from the Wakhan corridor in Afghanistan, which is a narrow stretch of land between N Pakistan and Tajikistan. But Wakhi people now live in Afghanistan, Pakistan, China and Tajikistan, in the Pamir region. Nearly all Wakhi people are Ismaili, and their language is very similar to Persian. The following article is about their traditons and culture, particularly within the family. I really wish he had given it to me before I went to Chitral, as the culture there is quite similar, and according to this I made some fundamental errors. But never mind....

'Childhood, youth and old age are natural phenomenon, but they are also socially constructed and mean different things in different societies. Generally, for the purposes of gauging human development, stages are classified as beginning, early childhood, middle childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, middle adulthood and late adulthood. There are not age limits as such set internationally or nationally at what age we are young and at what age one gets old. It has more to do with the cognitive abilities and working capacity or physical activeness. Some people used to say that when the hair turns gray one becomes old, but today even very young children have grey hair. Socially it can be measured against more or less experience; a synonym for being knowledgeable against being naïve or novice. When youth assume that the old people are ignorant of the demands of time, or when old people think that the youth has a little know-how of the world and its complexities, cracks can develop in society.

Many societies and families have long traditions of authority in which most decisions are made by the elders. If the tradition of accepting the elders is deeply inculcated in the youth the system moves very smoothly. Otherwise, issues of disagreement escalate and on occasions turn into serious revolt. In some cases children have tried to get rid of their elders by sending them to old age facility centers or used some other innovative brutal ways. In other cases the youth have tried a simpler way of just ignoring them despite of the age related requirement that the need to be in some company at least for few hours a day to share the wealth the knowledge they have stored from childhood through youth and to the old age. Some old people are smart and lucky enough to find their grandchildren as their friends. They talk to them and love listening to their experiences and reflect on how much the world has changed.

The Wakhi older adults are good models of vigor and zest. Some people live to ripe old age, as my own grandfather grew as old as 120 years. There are some social factors attached to energy that boost their morale because they feel honoured in the society. In this paper I am going to talk about the titles used for them, decision making, and position at home, dinning, dancing and walking. This paper will not only help the honorable visitors of the Wakhi homes rather it will also allow our own youth to remind themselves of the traditional values of our society. I am aware of the fact that their will be commonalities in other traditions such as Brushaski, Shina, Khowar, and Dari but I will focus on Wakhi so that I do not confuse people.

The Wakhi elders can be called “Mapair”, “Akabeer”, Moye Safeed” or Akhasqool”. Mapair and Akhasqool have the same meaning as old man. Therefore people do not use both these words as they have negative connotations. Akabeer (wise man) and Moye Safeed (white haired man or women meaning experienced). But the most common word used is “Puop”, which means grandfather. The beauty of this title is that it is not necessary that a person needs to be a real grandfather to be called pup. All old males are called pup and while meeting them the first time after a long absence it is necessary to kiss the back of their hands. In return the pup will also kiss the back of your hand. Old ladies are called “Kumpir” meaning old woman and “moum” meaning grandmother. Old women are normally called mum whether they are really grandmother or not and it is an obligation to kiss the back of their hands while visiting them.

The elders of the family, whether male or female, make most of the decisions at home. The decision-making process is mostly participatory and based on common understanding. In the case of marriages, Wakhis are moderate as the boys and girls decide to whom they should marry. The process is carried out through informed consent of the family, especially with the elders.

The elders sit at the most honorable and reserved place in the traditionally built homes. The man sits on the right side and the woman on the left. Nobody else can take their position no matter whether they are head of state or the wealthiest person. The guests, however, can be offered to sit in their places but it is normally considered a good attitude to let the poup or moum sit in their position and the guest sits beside them. In the same fashion the rest of the house is divided into second, third and so on ages. If a person is really naïve it is said he/ she is so simple that “does not know how to sit or stand”. One needs to be really careful in visiting a Wakhi house to avoid taking somebody’s place. The youngest (no matter how educated or having good social status) gets a place in the “burj” means corner in a fully packed house. Relaxing your feet towards somebody or sitting in a way that somebody is at your back is the rudest act.

Food is normally served at a fixed time and at particular place, called the Neekard in the traditional houses. The sheet that is spread on the floor to put the food on is called “Destorkhon”, which is the same in Dari and Persian. It is generally a clean piece of cloth or plastic sheet and people sit around it. When the food is served every body waits the eldest of in the group to start first and other people follow. One of the people takes a full roti called “Shapeek” and offers it to others to take. In such situation one takes a small piece and thanks the person who offers it. Wakhi eating style is very formal, the host will keep on suggesting taking more. Sometimes when this is done by the host puop the situation gets serious! The puop suggests eating more food and can keep on loading your plate with meat or rice. In this case simply ignoring the offer or rejecting it is unacceptable behavior which is really rude. The young are supposed to keep a speed that they finish later than then elders. One can not stop eating until the elders are finished eating. When a person wants to take water he/ she offers others to take it first. In most of cases it is politely rejected by thanks “Schobosh” or “shukriya”. After the food everyone offers prayers for the host and the family who served them. The puop prayers in Wakhi are, for example “May God fill your house with riches”, May God bless all your family” and a lot or more which will be another topic of my writing.

Wakhi, especially men, like dancing but it is very well developed social activity. If somebody wants to see the hierarchy of age in a family or in a bigger clan one should see the dancing line. The line goes from the eldest to elders and to young children. Everybody in a dancing team should follow the team leader who is the most senior person in steps, body movement and speed. The whole dancing team will salute the eldest in the audience before, during and after the dance which lasts 5 to 10 minutes. To show respect the audience encourages the dancers by clapping. Crossing the elders to take the lead, taking a longer time, breaking the row, deferring the elders’ footsteps or standing at the wrong position is really impolite.

Wakhi people like walking, and the landscape where we come from means that we need to walk. Walking in the Wakhi tradition is really difficult - there are some complexities and formalities related to it. The Wakhi elders usually lead the walking and they keep the same hierarchy while walking in a line. This does not mean that whenever the Wakhi walk they walk in a line, but it has something to do with the landscape. There are a lot of narrow walking tracks spread all over the area so people are compelled to follow narrow windings.

Some people might think these are just symbolic but there are tokens of respect attached to all these rituals. There are no certain criteria by which respect can be measured rather it is day and night. The presence of light is called day while the absence of it is night. The same is the case with this semiotic representation of elders’ respect.