A Rugged, Forbidding Land on the Road to Nowhere : In Pakistan, Swat Sits With No Need for Sultan

Who or why, or which, of what,

Is the Akhund of Swat?

Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?

Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or chair, or squat,

The Akhund of Swat. . . ?

--Edward Lear, 19th Century

It may come as a shock for generations of American baseball fans, but Babe Ruth was not the Sultan of Swat, or at least not the real sultan of the real Swat.

Surrounded by rugged mountain peaks far higher than any of the majestic clouts off the Babe’s bat, the real Swat, here in the frontier of northern Pakistan, is a fertile valley fed by icy-cold streams that tumble down between valleys of pine.

As many historical invaders have learned, the only entry is through forbidding mountain passes that twist and turn past ancient forts that once blocked almost all comers.

“Swat is like Albania: on the road to nowhere, not to the riches of India, not on the silk route to China. No one came here, no one went,” said Miangul Aurengzeb, the man who would be sultan of Swat if such a position still existed.

For years, Swat, like most of northern Pakistan, remained a mystery into which only occasional glimpses were made by travelers and by the Greek, Mogul and British armies that came, saw, but never really conquered. Like much of Afghanistan to the west, the ruggedness of the land and the fierceness of its people kept Swat relatively free of outsiders and subject only to its own Pathan rivalries.

Alexander the Great’s sweep across ancient Persia suffered one of its few setbacks here at Swat, where he made a local beauty his bride when his troops could not bring him conquest. A Mogul army sent by the great emperor Akbar was annihilated in Swat.

None of this, however, prevented the Swatis from engaging in murderous rivalries and tribal and clan vendettas. Local khans, or leaders, fought and schemed in power struggles that continue to mark the politics of Swat--and of much of rural Pakistan--to this day.

It was out of this constant bickering and fighting and the occasional need to unite against an outsider that there came to be an akhund of Swat, who eventually became the local equivalent of a sultan.

During one of the valley’s many wars, an Islamic mystic and holy man named Abdul Ghaffur, son of a cowherd, was called on by the khans of the Yusufzai tribe to lead them under the title akhund , or messenger of God. When the British tried to cross the mountains into Swat in the 1860s, the tribesmen united behind the akhund to fight them to a standstill, and Aurengzeb’s great-great grandfather ensured the family’s leading role in Swat for generations to come.

Although the akhund remained Swat’s spiritual leader, Aurengzeb’s grandfather, apparently after disposing of the other direct male heirs of the akhund , became badshah, or king, and allied himself with the British. He ruled until 1949, shortly after Pakistan emerged as an independent state, when he abdicated in favor of Aurengzeb’s father, Jahanzeb.

Since Swat now existed as a princely state in a new nation, a badshah no longer seemed necessary or appropriate, and Jahanzeb gave up the title in favor of wali, or ruler, a title that disappeared in 1969, when Pakistan abolished the princely states.

But in a land where traditions go back hundreds of years, the notion and aura of royalty still lives. At rallies in his National Assembly race last month, Aurengzeb was greeted by cries of “badshah,” and his son, a candidate for the provincial assembly, was cheered as “adnan badshah.”

United as a nation-state for only four decades, Pakistan’s political life is determined in no small way by traditional loyalties and historical feudal relationships. Men who generally are comfortable in the political salons of Islamabad or the drawing rooms of London often return to positions of power in the deserts of Sind or the mountains of the Northwest Frontier to dispense largess, and often justice, as if little had changed for centuries.

“I remind them of my grandfather and my father, of the roads and schools and changes they brought. I ask them if they were safer under our justice of 20 years ago or the justice of today,” Aurengzeb said after a rally kicking off his campaign for a National Assembly seat in the Nov. 16 elections.

Like many things in Pakistan these days, the old ways are being challenged in Swat--or so it would seem on the surface.

Back in the days of the badshah and the wali , there is more than one story in Aurengzeb’s family history of brother turning against brother and father against son. This election turns out to be a modern version of an old family feud since Aurengzeb’s chief opponent is his cousin and son-in-law, Aman-e-Room.

“He thinks I should have helped him a little more on something,” said Aurengzeb with a shrug. “It didn’t really happen the way he thinks, but what can you do?”