Kabul Diary, the Return

There is nothing like flying over very dry land to gather a true appreciation of the impact of water on geography. The flight from Dubai to Kabul passes across parched parts of Iran and Afghanistan, places where the rivers are occasional and water not only doesn't stand, it doesn't even loiter.

A paradox: from a great height such an environment is awash in the evidence of flowing water. The hand of that sculptor is unmistakable.

Paths of a different color from the rest of the landscape wander down hills, but never up them, stepping now left, now right, finding the easiest route to the valley floor. Deltaic fans of white show where a river sometimes empties into the desert and finally dies. Dry gullies in the sides of mountains, a delicate capillary tracery leading to veins and then still wet arteries, humanity clustered on its banks.

And one can also clearly note the impact of water on society. Why a village is where it is - right there! - can be seen clearly from the air. Three narrow streams roll down three shaded valleys to join that village. That town grew up on the banks of what is sometimes a wide river, rather than the poor trickle it now appears to be. Those fields are laid out in that quiltwork pattern there and seem to flow in that direction because so does the water. That farmer is rich and this one poor because the spring rains run that way and not quite so much this.

I am completely absorbed and cannot tell you how long the flight lasts (last time, I slept).

Posted by Martial