DAY 3 SUNDAY 080707

LANDI KHOTAL

0100hrs:
Predictably, it’s been a difficult night. It’s too humid inside the room I’ve been given in the ‘Musafirkhana’ (traveller’s lodge). I therefore decide that it’s marginally cooler outside in the hallway where a gentle breeze occasionally provides solace. I lock the room with all my possessions scattered, I am too tired to even download material from my Nokia N95 to my laptop, secure with the thought that nobody would possibly attempt to take anything, particularly judging from my experience thus far.
0130hrs:
I am woken by someone who appears to be a member of staff of the ‘Musafirkhana’. "I would like to take a spare ‘khaat’ (bed) from this room please," he requested politely. I almost immediately acquiesce, thinking that there must be some tired and weary traveler waiting desperately to put his head down. He was in and out in what seemed so short a time that becoming suspicious was akin to insulting him, I felt.
0230hrs:
Sleep is eluding me and despite my body aching from the previous day’s toil, I wonder, just wonder, "Are all my possessions intact?" As I trudge into the room, my mind tells me to look for the most important item first. Alas, I cannot find my Nokia N95. This is my only means of capturing audio, video and photos of this trip. "Damn! It’s not here, the ‘slimey so and so’ was too clinical in his approach!" I angrily explain to myself.
This is virtual despair, I find my other phone underneath some clothes and nervously dial the number of the stolen phone….Yes, it is ringing and I can hear the phone ring from somewhere in the ‘Musafirkhana’! My heart races with excitement as my mind attempts to figure out the puzzle. "Do I try and apprehend him myself or should I alert the ‘Khasadar’. To make contact with them I would have to exit the ‘Musafirkhana’ and inform the ‘Chowkidar’ (Security Guard) by which time the ‘Phone Thief’ could make his escape. " While I deliberate over my dilemma, I decide to ring the stolen phone once more….Yep, still ringing, though I’m struggling to make out where the sound is. "Is it coming from the roof of this 2-storey building or the 1st floor where I am?" I groggily try to make out.
I take the plunge and exit the ‘Musafirkhana’ to alert the ‘Chowkidar’. He in turn almost dismissively suggests that I contact the ‘Khasadar’ myself. Through gritted teeth, I explain that by the time I fetch them, the culprit could disappear. That’s if he hasn’t already!
When he eventually agrees, I rush back to the ‘Musafirkhana’ praying that the thief has frozen in embarrassment.
0330hrs:
By now, I am a nervous wreck and when the ‘Khasadar’ eventually arrive, their lackadaisical approach adds to my torment. "This is a resting place for dacoits, smugglers and drug addicts. They merely stopover here before disappearing into the Afghan wilderness," harped their chief. "Absolutely charming," I retorted.
They led me to the roof where at least twenty people were seemingly fast asleep and hence oblivious of my plight. I rang the elusive Nokia N95 once more. Although connecting from my phone, I could no longer hear it ring. Many thoughts raced through my mind, "Could he have worked out how to put it on silent? Has he thrown it somewhere to evade being caught red-handed? Or perhaps, worse still, has he escaped?"
I took a good look at each and every person sleeping on the roof but couldn’t for certain make out the culprit. However, one ‘Khaat’ was empty and the person accompanying the ‘Chowkidar’ who appeared on the scene soon after I had informed him, looked eerily similar to the person who had entered my room a few hours earlier. However, I couldn’t be 100% certain. I nevertheless asked him where he had been sleeping. His nervous and inaudible answer raised my suspicions but I decided not to commit myself. I would rather tell the ‘Chowkidar’ in private and request that he and the ‘Khasadar’ politely extract the truth from him. After all, I am just desperate for my phone.
As we descend onto the street, the ‘Khasadar’ dutifully apologise, sympathise and request leave before I have time to have a ‘quiet word’ with the ‘chowkidar’. In the meantime, a car pulls up, the suspect jumps in and before I can say "1,2,3" the car is whizzing away in the direction of Torkhem.
I discuss my suspicions with the ‘chowkidar’ who seconds my opinion and re-assures me that the culprit is a local who will be back to open his shop at around 9:00am. I am too tired and confused to talk any more and decide to ‘hit the sack’
1000hrs:
I am gently woken by the long-bearded owner of the ‘musafirkhana’, with the suspect in tow. I immediately sit up and hear out the owner’s apology for the distress that I’ve been through. He re-assures that if indeed this is the person who has stolen my phone then he would whatever was necessary to ensure I retrieve it. "But, you must be sure," he emphasised.
The suspect solemnly and repeatedly pledges his innocence, affirming to divorce both his wives if he is found to have done this dirty deed. "My father and younger brother have been detained by the Government of Pakistan. This is my concern at the moment. Why would I take your mobile phone and bring more problems onto myself?"
As I cannot be 100% certain that he was the culprit, I beg forgiveness and resign myself to the fact that my phone has been stolen and the chances of me retrieving it are pretty much nil.
Could this be the ‘straw that breaks the camel’s back’ I wonder in isolation. I had dearly wanted to make a video documentary of my cycle ride. Lack of resources on my part and interest from commercial sponsors ensured that to be impossible. I was relying on my Nokia N95 to function as a strong stand-in replacement. This is despair indeed.
1300hrs:
Having managed to sleep on my despair, I wake up to make a phone call to my family to enquire as to whether they can send me a replacement. I know that I have put a lot of pressure on them these past couple of years, this loss just piles it up. Nevertheless, they assure me that they would try and arrange for a replacement as soon as possible, though it’s difficult to know when I would receive it. I am in a dilemma as to whether I should stay in Landi Kothal where the longer I stay, the more suspicious locals will be of me. The tribal areas are unpredictable in that violence can flare up at any time and although peace has it’s price, I would prefer not to pay just yet.
1600hrs:
I’ve spent the last few hours touring the bazaar of Landhi Kothal, which is littered with ammunition retailers and meat sellers. Talking about peace between India and Pakistan with the locals brings out a chuckle or two, but overall they sympathise with my mission and wish me the best of luck.
I feel it’s time to get on my bike and proceed towards Peshawar where I may be able to get some substantial discussion on the merits of my ‘Ride for Movement and Peace’ while I wait for my replacement phone.
1730hrs:
A few kilometres down the road, a passing ‘Khasadar’ jeep enquires as to where I’m heading. After explaining the purpose of my ride, the ‘chief’ suggests that I spend the night at their compound as there maybe danger ahead.
1900hrs:
The rest of the evening is spent chatting to what seemed to be a whole unit of ‘Khasadars’ who were extremely hospitable albeit surprised at my determination to achieve what I was trying to achieve. "How can you do this all alone?" one asked. "Well, I can only try my best, I don’t feel like living for anything else," I patiently explained.
I was given the best bed in the ‘house’ and air-conditioning ensured that this was the most pleasant night of rest that I’ve had in a long while.