The ruins of Shahr-e-Gholgola are one of the first things you see when flying into the picturesque Bamyan valley located in the Central Highlands of Afghanistan. From Persian (Farsi) it translates into the 'town of noise'. I have heard it referred to as both the Silent City and Screaming City. The hill it sits on has the remains of what was once a prosperous city from the 5th to 7th Century AD. In 1221, Genghis Khan's grandson was killed in the area and Genghis did what any other blood thirsty Mongol ruler would do in an event that a family member was murdered--he sought revenge and by this I mean blood bath.
Genghis Khan invaded the region in 1221 AD and vowed to kill everybody including every man, woman, child, bird and animal in the valley and, true to his word, he did just that. The scream that accompanied the final massacre gave the citadel of the city the name by which it is often referred to today. The Mongols thereafter referred to it as the Mao Balegh or 'cursed city'.
Tourists can visit the ruins, but it is imperative to have a guide for safety reasons. Unmarked landmines are in the area and the threat of stepping on one is very real.
I saw Gholgola daily in the distance when I lived in Bamyan, but I never did make it to the top of the ruins. Once I, along with three others, attempted to visit Gholgola and had a an unexpected experience. As we began our ascent up the hill, we were intercepted by a very rude Afghan tour leader who seemed to appear out of nowhere--his loud voice and angry tone earned him the name Mr. Scream. He yelled at us in Dari that we needed to buy a ticket and told us we should leave the ruins, go to the tourist office--located a fair distance away--and then return. We had no car and asked why we could not just purchase admission there--for some reason he inisted on us going to the tourist office.
The tourist industry is obviously just starting in the Bamyan valley and there are tickets you can purchase at the tourist office just opposite the Buddhas. The idea is that a tourist buys the ticket and then gains entry to all the sites in the Valley including the Buddhas, Red City and Gholgola. However, the Afghans have not put into practice this procedure and there seems to be no cooridination or instructions posted anywhere informing you of this process.
Randomly, a pious man who spoke Arabic just happended to be hanging out on the hill and after seeing Mr. Scream act like a moron came to us to see what was the matter. Given my basic Dari did not convey my frustration created from the Afghan red tape I was facing, I explained to him in Arabic that I merely wanted to pay admission and could not understand why I had to go all the way to the tourist office. He attempted to negotiate with Mr. Scream, but Mr. Scream was adament on following the procedure of going to the ticket office. The end of the argument involved the arrival of three ex-Mujahadeen fighters--really not sure what there job was, but I believe they were guards at the top of the ruins to ensure everyone had a ticket--whatever they were, they had big kalashnikovs and agreed with Mr. Scream that we had to go to the tourist office. At that point, it was obviously futile to continue attempts at entry--angry looking men with guns was Mr. Scream's trump card.
The Arabic speaking elderly man accompanied us down the hill from Gholgola and he repeatedly apologized for his fellow country men saying all of Afghanistan is a problem. His soothing words and understanding nature soon made me forget the anger I felt from Mr. Scream's ignorance and the mujahadeen's guns. He told me of the countries he had visited while seeking refuge abroad--his beautiful Arabic, which he spoke in a the classic form, was a result of thirty years he had spent living in the Gulf. He eventually separated from our group and walked on, gently counting his prayer beads as he silently reciting a name for Allah for each bead he held between his fingers. Arms folded behind his back, he sauntered off towards his home in the distance. Though he lived near to my guesthouse, I never saw him again. Problems are everywhere in the world, but it's people like him that give you faith that there are good people out there--and can appear unexpectedly when you give up hope of finding them.
