Istafan (I think)

Yesterday, some friends and I drove out to Istafan, famous for its pottery. At least, I think we went to Istafan. I’ve developed a mental block when it comes to Afghan place names and am too embarrassed to ask for the sixth time the name of this town.

The town lies in a valley on the Shamali plain, about 90 minutes outside Kabul. The plain was the scene of intense fighting, and the majority of the mud-brick buildings stand like broken teeth upon the slopes of the hills. The damage ranges from sprays of bullet holes to missing walls and (most frequently) ceilings, and it seems impossible that people live here.

But they do live here, and they were surprisingly friendly. People waved at us as we passed, and all the men and boys wanted their pictures taken. The pottery itself was a disappointment. I don’t think it’s very good quality, but the intensity of the blue and green glazes they use are startling, and I bought a small bowl anyway because it was cheap, and I was in Istafan.

I think.