Cool Welcome

Afghanistan, ancient home of an untamed and fierce race, has cold winters and a cold heart for invaders from the north. From as far back as recollection goes--to the Scythians, the Kushans, the White Huns, the Mongols of Genghis Khan and the Tatars of Tamerlane--only woe has come from across the River Oxus to the high plateaus and valleys where 12 million Afghans ride their horses and camels, herd their flocks, fight their feuds and tend their bazaars. The instinctive memory of it blew like a cooling wind across preparations for Afghanistan's latest invasion from the north, the visit of those part-time nomads, Nikolai Bulganin and Nikita Khrushchev.

The Afghans have been depending on the Russians for essential supplies and increasing economic aid since last July, when Pakistan shut down the Khyber Pass over a territorial dispute with Afghanistan. But the family that governs Afghanistan (through King Mohammed Zahir Shah and his strong-willed brother-in-law, Prime Minister Sardar Mohammed Daoud Khan) took special precautions against too conspicuous a welcome to the northerners. Few flags or banners were hung in Kabul's streets. The public was not told of the coming visit, and the government did not even confide to foreign embassies what day the Russians would arrive.

Swarms in Bazaars. Strongman Daoud was aware that his strict Moslem people might be tempted to rash acts by their religious hostility to Communism, by the tales told by the constant stream of refugees from nearby Russian Turkistan, and by the age-old assumption among Afghans that anything to the north is barbaric. As arrival day approached, the bazaars swarmed with secret police, who questioned strangers and put suspicious persons under house arrest for the duration of the Russians' visit. Along the three-mile route from the airport into the capital, families were warned that any untoward incident might bring death to every member of the household.

When the Soviet ambassador suggested to Foreign Minister Sardar Mohammed Nairn Khan (a younger brother of the Premier) that Bulganin and Khrushchev might like to address a big public meeting or two, Nairn replied that the Afghan winter was too cold for the distinguished guests to stand in the open for long. "Oh," replied the Soviet ambassador, "our leaders are accustomed to cold."

To help prepare them for the cold, Stephen Baldanza, public-affairs officer in the U.S. embassy in Kabul, had an audacious idea. He invited about 60 Afghan government officials, including four Cabinet members, to a dinner party. When dinner was over the lights went out, and a State Department motion picture entitled My Latvia was shown to the surprised guests. It was a chilling documentary of the Russians' rape of Latvia in the 1940s, based in part on films smuggled out since. The guests left in stunned silence, except for one who drew Baldanza aside, and said: "I am glad someone had the courage to do this. It may open some closed eyes." Baldanza had delivered a shrewd, if blunt, propaganda blow at a time when Premier Daoud is hoping to make important deals with his omnivorous neighbor to the north, confident that he won't be swallowed up.

Pomegranate Toasts. At last the Russian leaders arrived, a day late because of bad weather. As the plane touched down, a voice over the street-corner loudspeakers ordered all shops in Kabul closed. The public was herded onto one side of the street, and troops stood on the other, facing the crowd with rifles on their shoulders. Russia's Prime Minister and the Communist Party boss were greeted with almost complete silence as they rolled into the city along a two-mile stretch of asphalt highway completed only the day before with Soviet materials and equipment.

At a formal state banquet there were toasts in pomegranate juice, and Marshal Bulganin eagerly grasped the chance to align Russia behind Afghanistan in its quarrel with the West's good friend, Pakistan. He had already nosily sided with India against Pakistan's claims to Kashmir. Now he insisted that it was only just for some 6,000,000 Pathan tribesmen and their hill country in West Pakistan should be severed from Pakistan, turned into the state of Pakhtoonistan and joined with the Afghan state. Premier Daoud appeared delighted.

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