Afghanistan's Best Kept Secret
Panjshir Valley, Afghanistan.
CNN hasn't been here. Neither have any of the other mainstream press. The last reporter this unit saw was from Popular Mechanics. That's because there's no bad news coming out of Panjshir. But therein lies the story.
In the 1980s, this mountainous northern province of Afghanistan was the scene of some of the fiercest battles between the Soviet Army and the local Mujahadeen. Up and down the valley created by the Panjshir river, the rusting carcasses of Russian tanks, trucks and helicopters bear a powerful testimony to the fact that 60 percent of all Red Army casualties in Afghanistan were taken here.
Despite nine major offensives, the USSR never succeeded in wresting this valley from its fierce defenders -- thanks in part to anti-armor weapons provided by the CIA.
The Taliban met the same fate when they tried imposing their ultra-radical version of Islam on the Panjshiris. In fact, this was the one place the Taliban never gained a foothold. This province is like the West Virginia of Afghanistan. They just don't take to outsiders.
This history makes all the more amazing what has been accomplished there by a small American Provincial Reconstruction Team -- PRT Panjshir.
Over the last five years, they've completed hundreds of important projects, like installing hydroelectric power plants, building schools and paving roads that will carry commerce to the far reaches of the province.
The team can be so productive because the province has a strong governor, who has personally guaranteed their safety. This enables them to travel light, riding without body armor in Toyota SUVs instead of up-armored humvees, so more of their time and effort can go into helping the people.
And the residents of the district are very happy to have them. It's also been declared a "poppy free district," which opens the door to lots more foreign aid, as evidenced by the brand new tractors and farm equipment being used by many of these mostly rural citizens.
The locals have an open, friendly air that differs considerably from the repressive, suspicious feeling exuded by the villagers I met in Helmand province last week.
The scenery in Panjshir is nothing short of breathtaking, too -- deep green terraced hillsides marching away from a sparkling river, up the sides of majestic 10,000-foot peaks that are only the foothills of the Hindu Kush.
On August 12, I got to accompany the PRT team as they traveled to the remote northern edge of the province -- on horseback. We were accompanied by the tough local Mujahadeen as our sure-footed mounts carried us up over 9,000 feet to a village called Aryu, which has never had electricity and is more than six miles from the nearest road. There, we sat down with the village elders over a meal of roast goat and flat bread and discussed the progress being made on a school the PRT team is having constructed of local labor.
I interviewed a Mujahadeen commander who told me stories of what it was like during the war with Russia. He said "Back then, we didn't even think about educating our children because there was no hope for the future. We were just fighting every day. Now, we look forward to the future because the Americans have brought hope to our valley."
I never thought I would say this, but I would gladly bring my wife and children to Panjshir for a vacation -- tomorrow. It's that safe. And hopefully, this valley can serve as a model for the rest of this country.
So when you hear on the news that Afghanistan is burning down, understand that Panjshir is the rest of the story that isn't being told.
Chuck Holton