The Kalash Valleys
We arrived in the Kalash Valleys, after a gruelling 14 hours of travelling, in the pitch dark unable to see the beautiful lush green valley, the steep sides covered in trees or the sheer drop off the side of the narrow rocky track on which we wound and bumped beneath huge overhanging rocks. We finally reached Bumburet, the largest of the three Kalash valleys, very tired, very dusty and very much in need of the 1.5 litres of homemade wine that accompanied our dinner.
Located in northern Pakistan, the Kalash Valleys are surrounded by the magnificent Hindu Kush mountain range and home to the Kalash people, a small ethno-religious group with a culture so unlike the rest of Pakistan you feel like you’re in an entirely different country. The Kalash follow an animistic religion that worships nature and involves both colourful clothing & festivals and animal sacrifice. They’re believed to be descendants of Alexander the Great and many look quite European with piercing blue eyes and pale skin. They also make their own very delicious wine (alcohol is not available anywhere else in Pakistan) and generally have a much more liberal attitude to women, although the practice of banishing them to the ‘bashaleni’ (a separate house for menstruating women) each month and also to give birth isn’t necessarily a custom the women appreciate. This, along with other outside influences is resulting in many Kalash converting to Islam and their numbers diminishing – only around 3,000 remain. It’s sad to think their unique and ancient customs and rituals could be lost. It was a fabulous place to spend a few quiet days.
There are three main valleys; Bumburet, Rumbur and Birir all looking down onto the River Kunar. Our first night was spent in Bumburet, the busiest and most accessible – though that is definitely relatively speaking. It’s a tiny place, just a few dusty lanes leading up the steep hills where traditional wooden houses are built, one atop another. After consuming a lot of the homemade wine and a few shots of vodka-like Arak at dinner the previous evening, we were informed at breakfast that the speciality walnut bread (very moreish) goes best with a glass or two of wine – well who are we to argue with tradition?! We set off, feeling very relaxed, to wander around the village accompanied by our host’s daughter in her traditional colourful clothes. Consisting of a black dress with heavy, elaborate and bright embroidery around the hem and sleeves and a beaded Kalashi topi, an intricately beaded headdress, handmade and unique to each woman. The outfits are stunning and make the men, in their shalwar kameez, look quite drab in comparison.
We moved on to Rumbur valley for the next couple of days, a 30 minute uncomfortably bumpy ride away. This valley is more traditional and peaceful though also home to the favoured backpacker haunt of Engineer Khan (that’s his name and no, he’s not an engineer). Unfortunately everyone was moving on just as we arrived, so after a very sociable lunch, it was pretty quiet with just the two of us there. Popular it might be but slightly more basic than we (or at least I) would like. We had the bathroom of perpetual darkness. Built into the hillside with the only window backing onto earth and grass it was naturally dark but given we only had about two hours of electricity in the two days we were there, torches were our only option. Which was probably a good thing – squat toilet, a bare concrete floor with a drain that didn’t drain, so permanently covered in 2 inches of standing water – not being able to see these delights was maybe for the best. But what it lacked in facilities was more than made up for with the family’s hospitality.
We enjoyed a very quiet few days. Far away from the troubles between Pakistan and India both physically and virtually with no internet or electricity. Our days were spent gently ambling along the narrow lanes past the boys playing marbles in the dust, the women in their brightly coloured outfits at work in the fields or tending their cows. Others washing clothes or their hair in the ice cold river (custom doesn’t allow them to wash their hair in the home strangely, though the river is a very scenic alternative). It was like stepping back in time. Eating home cooked food, fabulous bread along with a constant supply of rice and beans and the occasional tomato, the only healthy addition. The food highlight had to be the strongest cheese we’ve ever eaten. Matured for over a year and kept on a metal plate in a plastic bag on top of the rafters supporting the roof, it had a kick akin to eating a raw chilli. And it reeked! We love cheese, but this was something else!
Our evenings of darkness were spent playing scrabble (I won both games!) by torchlight accompanied by yet more homemade wine whilst watching the amazing lightning display which lasted for hours each night, the sky illuminated every few seconds plus the occasional bright white streak slicing through to hit the pitch black of the hillside whilst the rain hammering on the metal roof turned the dusty streets to mud – but just until the glorious sunny day dried it out again.
A few days of rest in a place where we felt we’d left the modern world entirely before we headed back to the noise and chaos of the cities.
Helen (10th May 2025)
Eat cheese, drink and be merry (you both look to be enjoying) hospitality at its best. It’s good to read about these unique cultures. Do they get any challenges to maintaining their traditions or does isolation help them stay true to their culture/religion?.
Loving the pissed photo 🤣 (rare photo of you both). Great to be fully embedded into the country and traditions. Glad you’re both ok!
Hope you took your headlights with you. The rate photo of you both (hick hick) is great. Glad to see you took the scarf I bought you Helen. Take care. XX