Rumbur, Kalasha Valley
Chitral District, Pakistan
We watched with fascination as she washed and braided her hair by the river. Grinding apricot bark sap on a stone with water, a thick paste is the modern day hair gel. It looked to my eyes that they weave songs of abundance and thanks, joy and friendship, love and laughter. The Kalasha people welcomed us to their valley as a sister or brother. We walked through narrow trails leading to bridges and exquisitely designed homes- every house and space follows a slate stone and wooden frame theme. The city people think our mountain folk are backwards and illeterate; the mountain folk don't waste time directing their energy towards the city people! We slave and buy phenomenally priced fruits in the city; no one "buys" fruit in the valley; the trees belong to all or nobody and they are wise to know they live in heaven on earth. We with our architecturally sound houses, security, hi-fi alarms, arrogance and the automatic humbling (is humble the owrd or instant fear)that comes with the constant tragic new headlines are far less "advanced" in many ways, than we like to believe. A false sense of advancement perhaps?
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