May 29, 2007—By Mohammad Qahir Haidari from Afghanistan.This story was orginally posted on March 18, 2007.
In my years at the World Bank, I have been on many tough and difficult missions. But my recent journey back to Kabul from Mazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan’s second largest city, is one that I am not likely to forget.
Early on Sunday morning, March 18, we left Mazar-e-Sharif in two sturdy vehicles for the 200 mile drive back to Kabul. Nawroz––the Afghan New Year––was around the corner and the town was gearing up for a huge influx of people visiting the Shrine of Hazrat Ali at the Blue Mosque in the heart of the city.
Salang road view during winter
This is a time of joyous celebration, red tulips are in bloom, and families gather to feast and picnic in the shrine’s gardens. At this time of year, it is difficult to find a good place to stay in this northern town, and we needed to return to Kabul soon.
Driving through the fertile northern plains towards Kabul, we stopped at the small market town of Aibak to buy the local specialty––a sweet bread baked with milk and raisins. Little did we know how this small indulgence was to come to our rescue in the day and night ahead.
Breaking through the snow at the end of the tunnel.
We reached the Salang Pass around mid-day. The Pass, at a height of 3400 meters, cuts through the Hindu Kush mountains that straddle the center of Afghanistan. The mile-and- a-half long Salang tunnel––one of the highest in the world––that goes through the pass is a vital artery that connects the north and the south of the country.
The tunnel looked blocked, and a long line of vehicles snaked ahead of us waiting to cross. Some vehicles were, however, being allowed to come over from the other side.
Curious to find out what was happening, I learned that it was snowing further ahead–– unusual for this time of the year––and that vehicles had been stopped under the instructions of a General Rajab, who was in charge of the tunnel’s maintenance.
Luckily, I knew the General and called him on the satellite phone, as there was no local phone coverage in the area. On hearing me, the General passed orders to allow us through.
Weeks after the reopening, however, an avalanche had trapped several hundred people inside the tunnel.
As we drove towards the northern entrance of the Salang tunnel, a light snow storm started up. Crossing the pass and the tunnel can be risky in bad weather. The tunnel had been reopened in January, 2002 after the Taliban had been defeated and mines and debris cleared.
Weeks after the reopening, however, an avalanche had trapped several hundred people inside the tunnel. While most were rescued, some fatalities did take place due to asphyxiation and freezing.
Knowing what could happen, we were very happy to meet up with Rajab as he supervised operations on the road. He instructed his people to help us in case of emergency. His assurance was most welcome, as a number of cars and mini buses were already having difficulty in moving, and some were stuck in snow.
We managed to reach the tunnel and cross safely to the southern exit. The Salang tunnel is followed by another three miles of mini-tunnels––snow galleries––designed to keep snow and rocks from falling onto the road.
As we made our way through the second gallery, a heavy avalanche blocked the exit. The first car of our mission, about 2 km in front of us, narrowly escaped––by a matter of seconds.
We checked with the General whether we should turn back. We could spend the night at his office at the tunnel’s northern entrance, I said. This was where the consultant supervising the emergency repair of the Salang tunnel––financed by the Bank’s Emergency Transport Rehabilitation Project––had worked and stayed.
The general told us that there was no going back now, as an avalanche had blocked the northern entrance––the one that we had just passed.
But, the general told us that there was no going back now, as an avalanche had blocked the northern entrance––the one that we had just passed. That had hit 22 cars and pushed them 200–300 meters down the mountainside. In the meantime, two more avalanches had come down ahead.
Working non-stop, the General’s men pulled up these cars––nine people were injured, but luckily there were no fatalities. After that they started to clear the snow at the southern exit of our gallery.
But, at about midnight, when he was just about to let the traffic go, another heavy avalanche occurred.
We certainly felt this one! It passed over our shelter, causing the concrete gallery and the vehicles in it to tremble violently. Now, there was no other option but to spend the night in the freezing tunnel, surviving on the bread we had fortuitously bought on our way.
A long line of vehicles––that had also been given permission to go through––were trapped behind us. The lucky ones were sheltered under the gallery while others were stranded out in the open, almost buried under the snow, with passengers inside.
It was a relief to be back in Kabul. What was supposed to have been a day-long journey had taken us two days, including 22 hours spent stranded high up at the Salang Pass.
At 5:00 in the morning, I saw men and machinery busy clearing the snow. More machinery was needed, but the heavy jam of vehicles and incessant snow were making this difficult.
Finally, two more machines arrived, and by 3:00 p.m., the road was cleared. Relieved to be out of there, we drove slowly between 4 meter high walls of snow, till we reached Olang, which is the very last portion of Salang Pass. Later we learned that there were 17 more avalanches at the northern entrance to the tunnel that night.
It was a relief to be back in Kabul. What was supposed to have been a day-long journey had taken us two days, including 22 hours spent stranded high up at the Salang Pass.
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