The Journey as a Reward: Reflections from the Hippy Trail

The journey itself often holds valuable experiences, lessons, and memories that can be just as rewarding, if not more so, than reaching a specific destination or goal. This was a profound realization I came to many years ago during my travels along the hippy trail in Afghanistan. Even today, reflecting on those moments, I am left with a deep appreciation for the unpredictability and richness of the adventure.

The Afghan Dilemma

It was 1971, and I found myself seated in the back row of a rusty, creaking Japanese minibus as we bounced our way across the bleak Afghan desert from Kandahar to Kabul. Seven Afghan tribesmen sat in front of and next to me, their turbans brushing the roof. Armed with ancient carbines and crossed bandoliers, they conversed amongst themselves, occasionally glancing back at me in curiosity. For two dollars, I would soon be in Kabul, leaving behind the overwhelming smell of unwashed bodies and uncured sheepskin coats.

By now, I was accustomed to the pervasive odor and had brought along some crusty bread and goat cheese. However, it was the beginning of Ramadan, the holy month for Muslims during which they do not eat from dawn to dusk. I realized my error and quickly put my food back, bringing relief to the group.

A Threshold Moment

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the bus lurched to one side. We rolled to a stop as everyone piled out to inspect the flat tyre. The driver then cheerfully began repairing the bus, and one of the men quickly built a warming fire using dried camel dung patties. It was cold in the desert, and we huddled around the fire, sharing cigarettes.

One man, Ali, spoke a few words of English. Through hand motions and a stick in the sand, I tried to teach him about skyscrapers, underground tunnels, supermarkets, redwood trees, and sailboats. We marveled at these things with looks of wonder and disbelief. When the bus was ready to depart, Ali pointed to himself and asked for my name. Standing tall and unflinching, I told him. With a moment of stunned silence, he then hugged me, overwhelmed by the connection we had just shared.

"Bruzzer!" he exclaimed, his message clear: "Brother!"

A Defining Moment

With a start, I realized the implications of my confession. Ali and his fellow tribesmen were from a culture where 'Jew' and 'Moslem' often meant hostility. But in this seemingly hostile environment, Ali’s simple act of hugging and recognition transcended boundaries. He explained, in halting English, that Abraham, the father of Jews and Moslems, taught them to be brothers.

What I took away from this experience was that, despite our differences, we are all connected by our shared human experiences. Ali’s profound understanding was not derived from modern rhetoric or newspapers, but from a deep-seated, centuries-old cultural bond. His actions and words epitomized the journey as a reward, far more rewarding than any destination.