During a side trip to the hamlet of Bardara, the western Pamir Range cemented its impression upon me, whose raw grandeur alone rivals any place I’ve seen. The loftiest snow caps, surpassing 19,000 feet, seem a world away, yet exert themselves as torrents of glacial whitewater far below in twisting river gorges. Otherwise, the landscape is an eruption of unyielding desert, lifeless but for legends of Marco Polo sheep and overwintering wolves.
Bardara is a place of indescribable beauty, in all respects, but, most notably, regarding its gracious inhabitants. Upon my arriving here, the village mobilized in rare form, amassing a throng of over 40 to usher me through its maze of turf pathways, freestone streams, and bursting apple blossoms. To accept each household’s invitation for tea would consume weeks; at last, I surrendered to their hospitality, staying five days with one family, and having tea with the others, so as to initiate myself in degrees.
Few things invigorate a Pamiri family like accommodating a foreign guest, for whom the great room is invariably honored, where all manner of Pamiri culture is cultivated. For the men, this involves spirited communions of screaming on matters of village politics; the women’s role is well defined, and seldom concerns such exchanges, but rather the domestic affairs of knitting socks, kneading dough, and tending the wood stove. As to the great room itself, each one features a vaulted skylight of concentric squares, framed with five pillars underneath, as in the Five Pillars of Islam, and the five members of Ali's family: Muhammad, Fatima, Ali, Hassan, and Hussein. And one of the pillars, according to the family’s preference, boasts a framed picture of Aga Khan, the fourth, and current, imam of the Ismaili Muslims.
