© Michael Obert

Pashtuns with nightgown and Kalashnikov, tourists with their Lonely Planet guide Afghanistan – after his arrival in Kabul Michael Obert got used to a lot of things. Now he’s meeting a minister who has to live with the fact that two of his three precursors got killed. In a city that was once a camping station for 90.000 hippies.

There’s even a Minister of Tourism in Afghanistan, a dangerous job in this country. The first person that held the position after the fall of the Taliban, Abdul Rahman, was lynched by a mob at the Kabul Airport shortly after taking office. The second of Afghanistan’s Ministers of Tourism, Mirwais Sadeq, was shot and killed en route to a business meeting in Herat. Nasrullah Stanekzai, the third Minister of Tourism, is still alive but was dismissed almost overnight after a shift of power in the government suddenly put him in the wrong party.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fates of his predecessors, but the man sitting across from me who currently holds the position of Minister of Tourism, Professor Ghulam Nabi Farahi, does not seem particularly ecstatic when he talks about the future of tourism in his country. „A thousand tourists last year“, he says. As he speaks, he rolls the light blue pearls of a chain of prayer beads through his fingers. He never once raises his eyes from the TV screen in front of him where an Afghani Elvis sings „It’s Now or Never.” „This year 1500. Next year, twice as many.“ He wears a light blue shirt with a white collar and white cuffs along with a silver striped tie. The temperature on the air conditioning unit reads 65 degrees. On the walls, there is a poster of the Ruins of Delphi in Greece, on the table, a dish full of candies. Everything appears quite tidy.

© Michael Obert

The promotion of tourism is an important goal for the government, the Minister of Tourism tells me. President Karzai has reiterated that several times. But the media presents only „bad propaganda“ about the security situation in Afghanistan, even though many cities are quite safe, he says, still watching TV: Kabul, for instance, Herat, Bamiyan, Mazar-e Sharif.

Which areas should I maybe avoid as a tourist? „Anyone can travel where he wants to“, the Minister of Tourism says. He’s glued to the screen now as a clown with an invisible shotgun fires at his audience. „Everyone is responsible for himself.“ And with that, the interview is over.

Beckett would have loved Chicken Street in downtown Kabul. Camus as well. The only thing that you can’t buy on Chicken Street is chickens. You’ll find those a little further along on Flower Street. There is, however, an endless string of souvenir shops. In the windows, you’ll find everything: blown glass from Herat, embroidery from Uzbekistan, coats made from the fur of the last snow leopards, lapis lazuli, Central Asian antiques, kilims, and Persian rugs. Some of the rugs feature the face of George W. Bush wailing bitterly, others depict the World Trade Center in flames as an F-16 squadron flies over an outline of Afghanistan. Printed beneath in spidery script are the words:

On Flower Street, I meet Gul Agha Karimi, who invites me into his house in order to tell me about the 90.000 hippies who passed through Afghanistan every year on their way to India and Nepal. They enjoyed the undisturbed beauty of the country, the extraordinary hospitality of the people, and the best dope in the world – the vision of the Summer of Love. For them: a reality. There was only one route and it went through Kabul. They met up in the Sigis Restaurant on Chicken Street and partied in the Green Hotel all night and into the morning. „Camping in Kabul“ was their motto.

© Michael Obert

„All the hippies knew me. They all loved my super Payan camping“, old Karimi tells me, full of pride. We’re sitting in his living room surrounded by a big screen TV, VCR, DVD, satellite receiver, and several stereos. Unfortunately, there’s no power. „The hippies went barefoot“, Karimi recalls, rubbing the rough soles of his feet on the edge of the living room table as we drink syrupy-sweet orangeade. „We thought, how poor these people are, by Allah. Look at them. They can’t even buy themselves some shoes.“ He accommodated as many as 300 hippies at his campgrounds where, now, his small grocery store and eleven, boxy, single-story houses for his extended family sit. „I made a thousand dollars a day“, Karimi boasts. Tourism had been one of the country’s most important sources of revenue. Afghanistan was, as they used to say, „mellow“. It could become that way again. Soon, very soon. Yeah, Afghanistan.

Camping in Kabul, Part I: Afghanistan – hot off the presses from Lonely Planet

Michael Obert, born in 1966, is a German book author and journalist who writes for Geo, Stern and other periodicals in Germany, Switzerland and Austria, as well for Courrier International (Paris), The Journal (New York) and Himal Southasian (Katmandu). He reports mainly from Africa, Latin America, and Central Asia, and has written books on the Islamic world. Obert currently lives in Berlin. „Camping in Kabul” was also published in his book „Die Ränder der Welt“.