Takhte Sangin

After the real work, the writing of notes and the taking of photos there was some time left in the day down in southern Tajikistan and we decided to find the Graeco-Bactrian site of Takhte Sangin which I knew was somewhere on the Amu Darya – which is today the border with Afghanistan. We found the site on my antiquities map, but it was no where near a road. Doubling back on ourselves we crossed the bridge at Shartuz and went down the left hand fork.

Just when we were about to give up hope – and not for the last time, we saw a sign Takhte Sangin signposted towards the cliffs of the Teshik-Tash range as I found out, through dusty fields where no one seemed to be working we snaked our way higher along the bumpy road, south towards the river. We hoped that our letters from the Academy of Sciences would be allow us access to what was surely a military zone. Suddenly we came to the top of the rise between the rocky cliffs and there was the river the Amu Darya of old, and behind Afghanistan hazy in the early evening light. We were quite alone as we took in the scene- wild and remote the river shining in the late sun. Borders are always areas of possibilities, of crossing, another culture and life brushing up against the one you’re in. But the border with Afghanistan speaks of dangers and drug smuggling, P and U were joking about selling N and me at the market across the border.

The road forked and forked again, signs forgotten and as I scanned articles to try and discover a more precise location we found out it was between the Teshik-Tash range and the river – just where we thought. We went down one ‘road’ thankful for the 4x4 until it disappeared in the dust and the same seemed to happen with the next, we knew it was inaccessible hard to reach, defensible at the time on the caravan route guarding the river to the other side of the Oxus from our side Transoxiana, the land which was named by the civilisations to the south. We drove around the cliff face on a treacherous road cut into the rock, unpaved and twisting round, so that we had to almost drive off one side before we swung in, hugging the cliff face, I was glad that P had told me that U was the best driver in TJ – I knew that he drove UN people so just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

We thought we must be on the right road now, but then the road again petered out and was split into mini crevasses and massive rocks. We sat and watched the tame roller birds, not knowing people as we discussed where next. Again we turned back. We could see the towers of the military posts on the border in the background.

We returned almost to where we saw the sign, P and N both assuring me that we would get there, if not today then they were not going to give up. Me too, appetite to find this site had been well and truly whetted. Then turning down another road, there was a boy riding a donkey who pointed us in the direction of a responsible adult – a farmer sweating from the fields, in wellingtons and a broad face from the steppes. He agreed to come with us and show us the way, we said we would only be half an hour, and back we went along the snaking cliff road – again down by the river with the sun lower and the hour later this time. We continued along the rock strewn road. Until two soldiers spotted us, well they could see us all along and beckoned us over, with whistles. We later found out they might have shot us if we hadn’t complied. And then the waiting game started as we explained and reexplained what we wanted and why we had come here, turned tail and returned, to a series of young soldiers posted here in this remote but key location for their military service. We waited for an officer to show our letters to. And waited as the sun got lower. Finally we drove to the camp, what we should have done at first, P reminded us he had said all along, obviously we hadn’t listened or he hadn’t persuaded us with any kind of loud argument!

And there we waited, until we thought that we would just have to go home anyway as it was getting dark when the final higher ranking officer came out, tall and older. N managed to persuade him that if we took one of his men with us to make sure we did nothing stupid could we go?

Mailash!

And then I knew that we would get there. So now we had two hitchhikers along for the ride, a farmer and the soldier, or as we later learnt a worker in uniform, and again we bumped along the road with the river on our right, and a barbed wire fence dotted with signs saying beware of the mines – the pictures left little to the imagination. One of the soldiers was kneeling down machine gun in hand, pointing at an unknown target, not in our direction, but still it was a scene that I had only ever seen on TV before.

And then suddenly in the shadow of a watchtower – we could take photos one way, but not towards the river – suddenly there were columns and ashlar masonry walls, such as have never seen in the Central Asian mud brick architecture.
I imagined the Temple of the Oxus – a fire temple built to a river god, covering the bases as it were, and the site full of gold. Some now in the British Museum and other parts scattered to the winds of the world.

The site is large and as my info said, largely inaccessible between the mountains and the river – on the narrow stretch of valley between the two. It was a Graeco-Bactrian site so founded in the 3rd Century BCE. This temple controlled the river crossing on the ancient caravan routes and information highways between Iran, India, China, Afghanistan and Transoxiana the area we now call Tajikistan and Uzbekistan.

Archaeologists speak of an ancient citadel with palace buildings around a spacious square, paved with large bricks. Takhte Sangin – the name means stone platform, and certainly the stone surprises here, eyes which have been used to clay brick. The temple of the Oxus was built in the 3rd century BCE. It was here that offerings were placed over centuries. Gold, ivory and more gold.

The ‘soldier’ told us that we could take photographs towards the site, but not in the other direction towards the river where a watchpost towered over the ruins.

He pointed out some steps going down in the direction of the river, saying that a few Turkish people had tried to dig under the river(!) I was skeptical about this, would take more than a few people, Turkish or otherwise to dig under that mighty river. What was more likely it was people trying to dig under the mine fields, but why they would do this just under a watch tower seems a bit odd. However with the walls and trenches of the dig, there was better cover here than elsewhere on that dusty river plain.

My friends returned again a few weeks later and noticed that some of the stones had been moved, whether by the army or someone protected by them? Makes me angry that people just think they can do this…

We later discovered that we weren’t meant to be there in this sensitive border area, especially the couple of foreigners. A couple of days prior had been an incident – read a drug smuggling operation so the border area was meant to be well and truly closed.

For anyone else who wants to visit - apparently the way to do it apparently, or that is what we were told, is to inform the military base at Shartuz that you are coming and then they will inform this base. However when my friends did that a few weeks later - there was still a rigmarole to get in. Seems the easiest way to do it is just p-p-pick up a soldier.

We left with the feeling driving back hugging the cliff face on that treacherous road in the dark feeling we truly had an adventure…. Touching a piece of the past rarely seen, especially by foreigners.