Today was my first taste of the Pamir Range. Most striking were its exotic formations, often appearing to burst into massive headwalls and canyons without warning. Spring is at its height in the lower elevations, their hills an immodest green. Much of the dynamic landscape appears prone to landslides - chocolate rivers tell the story, swollen and turbulent, yet poised for their upcoming summer engorgement of snowmelt. The day’s climax was the 3,252-meter Sagirdasht Pass, beyond which a steep river gorge leads to the village of Kalaikhum, marking the southern border of Tajikistan. Here, the Pyanj River carves the landscape in half, the other side belonging to Afghanistan, just a brisk swim away.
Approaching Sagirdasht Pass
Observing life across the river reveals a remarkable contrast. On the Tajik side: paved roads, Russian jeeps, iron roofs, power lines, men in western wear, women in garish dresses. On the Afghan side: foot paths and mule trains, primitive construction, stone-walled grazing pens, men in traditional salwar kameez. Much more than a physical barrier, the river’s influence as a political feature is profound. The discrepancy reflects northern Afghanistan’s isolation from the legacies of Soviet communism, which include the Pamir Highway itself and much of Tajikistan’s basic infrastructure.
During the Soviet era and until recently, the river border was inaccessible, legally speaking. In the 1990’s, the Aga Khan Development Network began bridging the river to encourage cross-border trade and alleviate destitution on the Afghan side. One result is the Saturday Afghan bazaar, held in a confined arena on the Tajik side of each bridge. For sale here are hides, spices, and wool pakul hats. Of course, northern Afghanistan’s most robust industry continues to be its opiate trade, and the Pyanj river border serves as a major trafficking thoroughfare en route to Kyrgyzstan, and ultimately westward.
Left side: Afghanistan; right side: Tajikistan & Pamir Hwy
