Train to the Afghan border. The big adventure, the first of 1985, began the next day, on Weds 2nd. We’d had the idea to go to Chaman, a small village about 70 miles away, very close to the Afghan border. We’d heard various exciting stories, including one from a young man we met in the shami kebab stall, about Afghan rebels, all kinds of guns, pistols, rifles, stenguns at very cheap prices, smugglers and thieves !
There were, according to the PTDC office, no hotels there, save perhaps cheap and nasty rooms in houses cum hostels where the chances were that we’d be mugged and slain.
So, thinking it would be a dangerous place to arrive at evening time, we got Mr Akhbar at the PTDC onto the job of finding some accommodation. He went to the station master at Quetta railway station and asked about the Railways Rest House in Chaman. All, it seemed, would be well; we could stay there. Mr Tahrir, the Chaman station master would arrange it all.
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