Good shot (history culture 101)
Trip Start
Jun 25, 2004
1
21
32
Trip End
Ongoing
Peshwar, Pakistan
Monday, December 5, 2005
and did what any insane man would do: I headed to the barbers and had
my Taliban beard shaved down to a Pakistani mustache. It's not quite
Merv, certainly not Adolf, but definitely something Big Phil Mellett of
the 70's, 80's and (shamefully) early 90's would have been proud to defile his face
with.
Satisfied that if I didn't look like a Lollywood movie star I certainly
looked like a Bollywood porn star, I headed north into the Pakistani
trible lands. A region so lawless that the Pakistani government treats it like a
child with A.D.D after a six year old birthday party. Ignore it, hope it
settles down and grows out of it.
Instead the region has blossomed with the fertilizer of every vice known
to man. My destination was Darra probably the worlds largest
illegal arms manufacturing town.
The main street stretches forward like a Texas milk bar with a distinctive Mad Max feel to it. In the place of shops selling Pepsi in bottles from the 1960's the street is lined with stores selling reproduction AK 47's, Pump-Action shot guns and 9mm Berettas (all of which are available for un US$40). When Osama or The Taliban wants to by Christmas presents this is where they come.
When I entered the town it sounded like the Muslim's of this region had adopted Chinese New Year and were letting of fire crackers in the street. As I got closer I recognized it was gun smiths stepping out the door of their tin shacks, holding a newly commissioned automatic rifle in the air and firing five or ten test rounds.
I dodged guys walking machine guns like they were puppy dogs, young boys playing with weapons like they were plastic replicas from Target, and men sitting outside gun shops sipping tea with an all too peaceful grace.
The tribal 'Police', as lawless an organization as the land they proclaim to police, stopped me (tourists are not allowed in the tribal lands) and said "you must go back to Peshwar" followed by a fantastically third world proclamation that everything is for sale, "$10 I show you guns, we shoot guns together". Soon I am standing out the back of town with the Chief of Police shooting AK 47's and pump action shot guns in an imaginary battle with terrorists.
"where you from?" inquired the Police chief
"Australia" I give my tired response
"Ahhh, Australia, Australia, Shane Warne, Glen McGrah, Ricky Ponting" he exitedly recites, followed by every Australian cricketer since Donald Bradman ruled the pitch.
"You like Cricket?"
"Ohh yes, love the game" I lie
"In Darra we play gun cricket"
I look to him expecting to see indications of amusement creasing his face. No he's serious. I choose not to ask whether I can join the local team.
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