Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
deal was this: two tents, the leftover food and our ropes in exchange for a fist-sized
lump of lapis lazuli, the elegant blue semi-precious stone that we'd seen covering
the mosque in Mazar-i-Sharif. It is an unforgettable sight, the holy stone, dug from
the mines of Badakhshan, prized by Titian and Vermeer as the source of ultramar-
ine pigment inlaid into the death mask of Tutankhamun. To Voytek, the trade was
a good deal. I suspect it formed part of a game plan discussed in Warsaw months
before. This was how the climbing life was financed in a 1970s socialist state.
But Voytek was now caught in a very dangerous game. The Afghanis had no in-
tention of allowing him to keep the lapis. We knew nothing of the deal when an
elated Voytek rejoined us at Bandikhan. Three porters dropped their loads near us;
another trio still fully loaded showed a dusty pair of heels as they ran to the stone
hovels with the fruits of the trade. We celebrated our reunion with a bowl of soup
and tinned Polish bread, more sardines, more chocolate.
As we relaxed, a Pathan with the face of a mauled dog approached, the three
stripes sewn on his filthy jacket supposedly a sign of authority. A turbaned hench-
man with a homemade rifle stood nearby.
'Hand over the stone,' he said in Pashto, gesturing with one hand and pointing to
his stripes with the other.
'What stone?' said Voytek in English, looking innocent. Alex and I looked on
totally bemused as a crowd began to assemble. We had no idea what was going on,
but two months with the Poles had taught us to expect the unexpected. It soon ar-
rived.
'That stone,' said the Pathan, reaching toward Voytek's jacket. Our friend's ex-
pression changed as he realised the game was up, but he wouldn't take the situ-
ation lying down; we now saw the rage of a Slav facing down the eastern horde.
'Oh, this?' Voytek said, removing the beautiful stone from his pocket. He held it
up for all to see and tossed it gently in the air. Then, in one swift movement, he
caught and threw it as far as he could into the thunderous rage of the glacial tor-
rent spilling from the glacier. As if to underline how permanent this loss would be,
the lapis hit a glacial boulder protruding from the river and exploded into a score
of ultramarine shards. The disintegration of our hopes was complete as the pieces
were lost in the opaque river.
The roar of the water was overwhelmed by the wails of the assembled crowd.
Some of the younger and more foolish ones tried to jump in, in search of the lost
treasure. I raced to pull one kid out before he was swept away. The man with the
stripes drew his finger across his throat and men with rifles ran back toward the
huts. I could already see women hastily ushering children inside. We ducked in-
side our tent to await developments, and Alex wondered if we were about to die.
