AN UNFORGETTABLE TRIP " The offer to travel as a media consultant to Faizabad"

I have been extremely lucky to visit Afghanistan recently. Infact I had the most unbelievable trip to Faizabad, Bharak and Jurm , on a project(at the behest of Aga Khan Foundation) as a media consultant, for capacity building of local journalists of Faizabad.
You are on the first page of my diary of that unforgettable trip.

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It did not require much of courage to step in and take the challenge of visiting this frightening corner of the world. Any lurking fear of being captured by a Taleb or a rocket launcher claiming my life had paled against the recent violent and shocking incidents of bomb blasts back home. It is better than dying in an inane Hyderabad blast, I had declared. Besides, pages from my Kabul diary would make an invaluable contribution to the travails of this army wife I thought.

According to Jo,my husband (the most adventurous man I have known)it was the next best thing to going to the Antartic. It was a lifetime opportunity (even if it was a place where even angels feared to tread)and not to be lost in doubt and anxiety. "Nothing will happen to you”, he assured. And so the contract was signed and the deal clinched. I was ready to fly.

Incidentally Faizabad the capital of Badakshan (The northern most province of Afghanistan) lay across the north of the Hindukush. Across inaccessible, inhospitable terrain it was under the control of the United Front even when Talebans managed to capture most of the other provinces of Afghanisthan. Life here was less disrupted even if it remained slow and frugal. Its ethnic mix of Tajik,Uzbek and Turkmen are also more affiliated to Central Asia and therefore more open minded to development and education.


It was a spate of activity to get prepared for the journey thereafter. From a hijab to cover my head to the long sleeved shirts to cover my wrists, and the woollens to protect me against the severe winters of a desolate cold country, everything had to be meticulously considered and taken care of.

The job was comparatively easy compared to garnering the initial courage of accepting it. I had to train a team of journalists, of a varied age group and from both the electronic and print media in the skill of developmental writings.

The stated objectives were as follows
o To enable media journalist to develop appropriate communication strategy for mainstreaming developmental stories in print and electronic media.
o To orient the journalists to various reporting tools and methods which enhance their analytical capacities, to produce high quality developmental stories.
o To build capacities of media fellow on sensitive and crisis reporting especially reporting on religious and conflicts etc issues.
o To improve skills and competencies of media to initiate debate on issues of wider concern.
o To improve skills of media in conducting effective interviews with stakeholders and other developmental actors and agencies.

While I knew I could deal very easily with the tools and methods of writing I had to still learn a lot about the place to transform all discussions into meaningful strategies to be used by local journalists to voice their issues.


I learnt that Badakshan was one of the six provinces of Afghanistan that was located to the north east corner, sharing a border with Pakistan, Tajikistan and China. Many of its 27 districts are so remote that they are still inaccessible by vehicle in the winters. Darwaz and Kahan for instance still have no roads connecting them to the provincial capital of Faizabad.The places one could reach too were through surly terrain and very painful to travel even in a land cruiser as I experienced later. Infact after a back breaking journey to Jurm I felt so sick that we had to abandon our trip to Iskashim further north. For the locals the preferred mode of transport was however the donkey.

Most of Badakshan has no electricity as in any other place in Afghanistan, including Kabul and relies on firewood which is getting scarcer by the day. With limited telephone and radio communication one would imagine its 1 million odd population to be absolutely clueless of the outside world, living in some forgotten ghetto of a antiquated Moslem life. I would learn to my utter astonishment later how cheap Chinese diesel generators , satellite connections, dish antennas and mobile phones have swamped these god forsaken places and kept even the most lost looking soul in the remotest corners surprisingly abreast of most modern changes all around and especially the soaps from India.


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