The Jewels of Badakhshan

ساقی با وفا منم, دم همه دم علی علی

It seems that nothing reflects the spirit of Asia better than its mountain ranges. From the Caucasus to the Altai, from the Kunlun to the Himalayas, these ranges carve their way through the Asian landscape, defining its history, its people and their culture.

Travelling through the Pamirs expresses that notion in its most soaring form.

Situated in the eastern part of Tajikistan and northern Afghanistan, the Pamirs are among the highest mountain ranges in the world, with some peaks well beyond seven thousand metres.

Historically isolated by unforgiving topography and a harsh climate, the Pamirs — also known as Badakhshan (بدخشان), “a ruby” in poetic Persian — harbour a dense network of river valleys packed with mulberry, poplar and apricot trees, home to the Pamiri people, of eastern Iranian ethnicity.

The region's inaccessibility, especially before the age of motors and explosives, generally left it beyond the direct control of Central Asia's major power centres, and its arid slopes and green river valleys largely to their own devices.

Early travellers such as Marco Polo and the seventh-century Chinese Buddhist monk Xuanzang (玄奘, 602–664 AD), who crossed the Pamirs on his way to India, left descriptions of the land and its people, mentioning among other things their blue and green eyes, which distinguished them from the people around them. That observation still holds today.

Although economically marginal, Badakhshan had its role in what is commonly known as the silk roads, hosting the southern route, which ran from Kashgar and Yarkand through Tashkurgan, on the modern Chinese border, and across the Wakhan valley. From Wakhan the route branched again to the Chitral valley and greater India in the south, and westwards to the city of Balkh in today's Afghanistan.

Empires passing through

Despite its isolation, Badakhshan's position at the heart of Asia tied it inevitably to the upheavals and clashes of its neighbouring kingdoms and empires. Its proximity to the lush and much-desired Fergana valley placed it in the shadow of countless struggles among the warring states around it. Sasanians and Macedonians, White Huns (Hephthalites) and Kushans, and even the Han Chinese and the Tibetan empire at its peak, all marched through on their way to establishing a firm hold on the region.

The eighth century AD saw the incorporation of Central Asia into the expanding Arab empire of the Umayyads, although decades of revolt and uprising passed before the region was completely pacified.

The Islamic expansion brought tremendous social, ethnic and commercial change. The gradual Islamisation of the region, although not usually accomplished by force, brought about the disappearance of local traditions and religions. Age-old Avestan practices gave way to the faith of Allah and his messenger, and the last active Buddhist monasteries were abandoned after almost a millennium of rich presence in Central Asia.

The establishment of the eastern Islamic civilisation, first by the Umayyads and Abbasids and later by local Iranian and Turkic dynasties, brought immense waves of immigration by Arabs, western Iranians and Turks, which changed the ethnic and demographic map of the region. The merging of those groups with the local Sogdian and Tocharian communities formed what we know today as the Tajik people.

The remaining indigenous eastern Iranians were forced to retreat to the high mountain havens of the Pamirs, where their descendants dwell to this day, preserving some of the original languages of their forebears. Today, despite years of Soviet and later Tajik cultural oppression, eastern Iranian languages such as Shughni, Ishkashimi and Wakhi are still spoken in the Pamirs, although the number of native speakers is gradually dwindling, with a realistic risk of extinction within a few generations.

The people of the Pamirs hold a great deal of regional pride, strengthened by long-standing resentment between them and the Tajik central government in Dushanbe, especially after the bitter years of the civil war (1991–1997) and the economic collapse that followed.

Although the war ended more than a decade ago, hostility between the local population of Badakhshan and Dushanbe remains. The burnt government buildings in Khorog, capital of the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Province, an outcome of the clashes of May 2014, stand as a silent reminder of that tension.

The party of Ali

Hostility between Badakhshanis and the government rests on tribal and regional differences as well as continuing discrimination, but a religious element plays a major role too.

The Islamic expansion of the eighth to tenth centuries brought about the gradual conversion of most Central Asian peoples to Islam, and predominantly to its Sunni version.

Sunnis make up roughly ninety per cent of the world's Muslim community, while the rest are Shiites, holding a majority in only a few regions of the Islamic world — predominantly Iran and Iraq, with smaller populations in Lebanon, Syria, Bahrain, India and along the East African coast.

The source of the separation and rivalry between Sunnis and Shiites lies in the formative years of the young Islamic community, when the fourth caliph and the Prophet Muhammad's son-in-law, Ali ibn Abi Talib, was deposed from his position as political and spiritual leader of the Islamic nation in favour of the Umayyad family. The Umayyad “coup” was understood by Ali's supporters as a sinister betrayal of the Prophet's family and his divine legacy. The rivalry between the supporters of the house of Ali, also known as Shi'atu Ali (the party of Ali), and the Umayyad Caliphate culminated in the massacre of Ali's direct descendants at the battle of Karbala (680), an event that shaped the Shiite notion of martyrdom and its perception of history to this day.

The Shiite position as the oppressed underdog of the Islamic world shaped the creed's religious psyche and gave its spiritual path a distinct flavour: a perception of history as having been terribly diverted from its natural course, namely the leadership of the direct descendants of the Prophet through the seed of Ali. Years of persecution by the Sunni majority made the Shiite community prone to factionalism, eschatology and deep messianic tendencies. Harsh social reality and a notion of sacrifice were channelled towards the anticipated return of the Mahdi, the hidden Imam, the direct heir of Ali and Muhammad and bearer of divine light, who will lead his people to their rightful place.

That tendency towards eschatology and messianic anticipation naturally made the community prone to fragmentation over the question of the Imamate, the religious leadership of the Islamic nation. In Shiite tradition this position holds a special quality: a divine essence or light passed by providence through the house of Ali and channelled along a lineage of spiritual teachers who embody God's message to his people.

In short, as a result of frequent disagreements about the identity of the true Imam, the Shiite community fragmented into several branches over the last millennium, the major split being between the Ithna'ashariyya and the Sab'iyya. The Ithna'ashariyya, or “Twelver” Shiites, take their name from their cycle of twelve Imams and predominate in today's Islamic Republic of Iran. The Sab'iyya, or “Sevener” Shiites, better known as Ismailis, split again into several branches, of which the best known are the Nizari Ismailis.

In the West the Nizari branch is famous — or, more appropriately, infamous — for the activity of Hasan-i Sabbah, the “old man of the mountain”, the legendary leader of the Assassin order of Alamut, which cast its shadow of terror across the Islamic world of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Legend has it that Sabbah and his followers lured young men with cannabis, or hashish (hence Ḥashshāshīn, which became “assassins” in the European tongues), to perform suicidal missions of murder, which made generations of viziers and princes throughout the Sunni realm sleep with one eye open.

It was only with the disastrous invasion of the Mongol hordes under Hulegu Khan (1256) that the Nizari stronghold of northern Iran was destroyed completely and most of its inhabitants massacred, as Mongol tradition required. Only then could the dignitaries of the Sunni caliphate finally sleep at ease — that is, if anything was left of that caliphate after the Mongols had gone through it.

Despite the Mongol onslaught, the Nizari Ismailis did not perish in Iran, and the community continued to exist undercover through a practice long known to them as taqiyya, disguising themselves as ordinary members of the Sunni community, and later as Sufis or Twelver Shiites, in order to maintain their practices in a hostile environment. This continued, on and off, until the forty-sixth Imam, known as the Aga Khan, moved to the Indian subcontinent under British protection and established his community in the open in 1848, after settling in Mumbai.

The Aga Khan lineage continued and was widely accepted by the various Nizari Ismaili communities as the sole representation of the chain of the Imamate. The forty-eighth Aga Khan, Prince Shah Karim (b. 1936), is a well-known businessman but also a philanthropist and the founder of a number of charitable funds, development networks, a research institute for Ismaili studies and other academic centres.

It is uncertain when Ismailism was firmly established in Badakhshan. Although one of the Samanid rulers of the region, Nasr ibn Ahmad (d. 914), publicly converted to Ismailism, this was a short phase and Sunnism soon returned to dominance. It appears that Ismailism was permanently propagated in the Pamirs by dai's (missionaries) during the Alamut period; after the fall of Alamut the local community experienced alternating periods of separation from the main Ismaili centres in Iran, eventually accepting the divine status of the Aga Khan lineage during the latter half of the nineteenth century. It was the persistent philanthropic aid of the Aga Khan in Badakhshan during the havoc of the civil war that saved the population from the brink of starvation, and the broad activity of the Aga Khan Foundation is still the most visible provider of services in the Pamirs, replacing the governmental ones that are lacking.

A portal to heaven

Ancient Badakhshani culture, rooted in the slopes of the Pamirs for centuries before the arrival of Islam, managed to dress its old foundations in new Islamic attire.

The most obvious feature of Badakhshani Ismaili culture is the Pamiri dwelling. A simple mud or baked-brick flat-roofed structure from the outside, similar to rural housing in many parts of the world, it conceals a genuine architectural gem.

Entering a Pamiri house, after removing one's shoes, one usually walks through a simple entrance hall that includes a sitting area (poga), defined by a raised platform and a couple of wooden posts. Turning into the main living space (tshid), you enter a square hall, again defined on all sides by raised platforms, sometimes covered with carpets. The entrance to the lower level passes through a portal made of two poplar-wood posts connected by a richly decorated lintel (butshkighidj). The entire ceiling is supported by five posts (sotun). The number five is by no means accidental: the arrangement commemorates the supreme position of the Prophet Muhammad and his family — Ali, Fatima, Hussein and Hassan — known in the Pamirs as the panj-tan.

But the most striking feature of the Pamiri house is not the warm, almost Tibetan-monastic design of its main hall; it is the ceiling. Almost every Pamiri Ismaili house is defined by its uniquely shaped four-layered sky-window, known as the chahar-khona. The origins of the design are uncertain, but some attribute it to the pre-Islamic past of the region and connect it to the Zoroastrian four elements: the first layer represents earth, the second water, the third fire, and the last and highest, air. It is also said that before the adoption of Islam the five columns represented the five archangels of the Avestan religion — Surush, Mehr, Ardbon, Zamyod and Ozar — and that the three main walls of the living quarter represented the three realms of life on earth: flora, fauna and the world of man.

The Ismailis of Badakhshan, though Muslims, do not use mosques as their house of worship but a structure called the jamat-khona, or house of gathering, which conceptually resembles — and perhaps is genuinely connected to — the prayer halls of other Shiite groups in the Islamic world, such as the Ahl-i Haqq (اهل حق) of western Iran and the Alevis of Turkish Anatolia.

The design of the jamat-khona is generally similar to that of the Pamiri house. Although today it is usually larger and more elaborately ornamented, in the past any ordinary house could serve the purpose. Inside the prayer hall it is common to see depictions of Imam Ali as well as pictures of Prince Karim, the present Aga Khan. Alongside copies of the Qur'an one commonly finds volumes of the poetry of Nasir Khusraw (1004–1088), the patron saint and, according to local belief, the founding father of Badakhshani Ismailism.

The fact that the Ismaili community used the ordinary Pamiri house as a place of worship enabled its survival through waves of religious persecution under the Soviets, especially during Stalin's terror, when other religious institutions — madrasas, mosques, churches and synagogues — were confiscated or destroyed outright.

Music, apricot wood and dung

Unlike other Muslim communities, the Ismailis perform only two daily prayers (namaz). In contrast to Sunni practice, men and women pray together without separation, and sacred music known as madah is sometimes performed, with lyrics drawn from the poetry of Nasir Khusraw and Jalal al-Din Rumi, passages from the Qur'an, or local compositions. Madah music is known among the Ismailis for its spiritual and healing power (qudrat, or baraka).

The main instrument used in madah is the Pamiri rubab. This traditional six-stringed instrument is made from apricot wood, the soundbox covered with hide from the back of a cow — some sources claim horse skin is used — and the strings and frets traditionally made from sheep's gut. The overall shape is said to resemble a human figure, asserting the connection between heaven and the human world through the divine power of music.

A good Pamiri luthier knows how to find a suitable tree for the craft: one of good age but not too old, straight and free of knots. The tree is felled in autumn, when the sap flow is low and it is free of leaves and fruit. The following spring, three or four trees will be planted to replace the one cut down.

After felling, the timber is soaked in water for a period of a few months to a year, then buried in snow for the winter. The next stage is to cover the timber with cow dung, which allows it to dry. This aromatic stage may take up to four years.

Unfortunately, not many luthiers are left in the Pamirs to pass down the knowledge — perhaps as few as ten in the entire region, all of them over fifty-five years old. As a consequence, the tradition of instrument making in the Pamirs faces almost certain extinction unless measures are taken soon. Masaii, a local luthier we met in the village of Andorov, halfway between Khorog and Ishkashim, crafts some unusual and, to say the least, creative instruments. He admitted that few makers remain to preserve the old craft, but that he is training his grandsons for the trade — so perhaps there is still hope for the rubabs of the Pamirs.

Forty wandering hermits

Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam, has played an important role in Muslim communities since their creation. Usually removed from mainstream orthodox practice, yet inseparable from the core of Islamic culture, its adherents seek intimate connection and final reunion with the divine presence. Diverse in method but united in ultimate goal, Sufism has always held an important status in Central Asia. Many Sufi orders (tariqat), differing in their methods and practices, sprang from this vibrant corner of the world; the best known are the Naqshbandiyya of Bukhara, the Yasawiyya of the Kazakh steppe, and the wandering dervishes of the Qalandari tariqa.

Perhaps the most famous Sufi teacher, at least in the West, is Jalal al-Din Rumi. Active in Anatolia but a native of Balkh, Rumi's writing and poetry are revered throughout the Muslim world, especially in its eastern, Persianate part, as well as in the West. The Mevlevi order, formed by his disciples in Konya, is famous for its iconic whirling meditation, part of a practice known as dhikr (ذکر), a gathering for spiritual elevation and ecstatic union with the higher realms. Different tariqas developed different approaches to the dhikr: some involve musical instruments such as the frame drum (daf), the reed flute (ney) and various long-necked lutes; others consist only of silent prayer, on a path known as “sober” Sufism, in contrast to the “drunken” ecstatic practice of others.

Despite obvious similarities between some Ismaili practices in the Pamirs and the Sufi path — the use of music and poetry during religious rites — and a documented connection between the Nizari Ismailis and at least one major Sufi order, the Nimatullahi tariqa, it appears that Sufism was never dominant in this region of Central Asia. Even so, a legend holds that the faith was propagated in Badakhshan by the Chilmurid, forty wandering hermits or dervishes, and shrines in their honour, adorned with ibex and massive Marco Polo sheep horns, are scattered around the villages of the Wakhan valley and elsewhere.

In the village of Yamg, not far from the Afghan border, there once lived a local dervish named Mubarak Kadam Wakhani (1843–1905). Although he never received a formal Sufi initiation under the guidance of a spiritual teacher, Wakhani attached himself voluntarily to the Mevlevi order after reading Rumi's poetry. He lived his entire life in Yamg, wandering and meditating on the bare mountains and in the dark ravines around the valley, and writing poetry in the classical Persian forms used by his Sufi predecessors. His direct descendant, Aydar Malikmadov, was happy to show us the sundial his great-grandfather designed, meticulously made to show the time of the equinox. Wakhani made the calculations and crafted the device only to die a few months before it first came into operation — certain that it would work perfectly, and having prepared his own grave in advance. How Sufi of him.

Visiting the old sage's mausoleum, before heading down the mighty Panj river and up the Pamir highway, was a reminder that the true gems of the Pamirs are not the celestial white peaks, the crisp-watered lakes or the lush green apricot orchards, but its people: the men, women and children we met along the way, with their ever-welcoming houses, sincere smiles and honest curiosity. These people, who lived through decades of religious persecution, Soviet cultural oppression and a cruel civil war, and yet never lost their humanist essence, which remained bright through the thick dust of a harsh reality — they are the true jewels of Badakhshan.