Introduction: The statues of Buddha were Bamyan’s main attraction. Carved into the mountains overshadowing Bamyan Valley, they had presided over the area for more than 1500 years, a focal point for travelers and worshippers.

In March 2001, the Taliban gave the order for the Buddhas to be destroyed. Perhaps no other action of the Taliban provoked such an outcry around the world as the wanton destruction of these great religious and historical artifacts. The carnage was almost total: when plastic explosives did not work adequately, the Taliban brought in tanks to shell the Buddhas.

Now the enormous empty niches where Shamama and Salsal once sat haunt Bamyan.  Their ghostly presence can still be felt. All promises to rebuild and restore have so far come to nothing; some people think the niches should remain empty, as a reminder of the terrible acts that robbed humanity of the Buddhas; others just want them back, in any way and at any price.

Buddha’s Empty Seat

The clock alarm sounds at 7:00 a.m.  I have to get up for our journalism workshop. It is hard for me to force myself out from under the blankets. In Bamyan in winter, the weather is quite cold.

But as I start getting ready for breakfast, the attendant enters my room with a basket of wood for the heater in the corner. Soon it will be warm and cozy.

Qurban is a Hazara man of about 30. We begin to talk – about the war years in Bamyan about the Taliban, and about the political changes in the country. Qurban is not a sophisticated man, but with the little information he has he gives his opinions about politics, culture and society. He complains that Bamyan has very high unemployment, and that the government does little to take care of the poor. He also reminisces fondly about the tourists who come to the hotel, and explains a little about his living conditions.

I find his speech very interesting, especially when he gets to the years that the Taliban were in power in Bamyan.

He is eager to share these incidents, but as he is talking the door opens and the hotel manager enters the room. Soon both men leave us.

My roommate goes to breakfast, and I am alone. Despite my hunger I think about Qurban’s words, and wish he would come back to finish his thoughts. But maybe he will bring breakfast, I think, and I can ask him more questions. I want to ask about the destruction of the famous Buddhas of Bamyan, which the Taliban blew up in 2001.

But it is a very quiet man with a serious and gray face who brings us our meal. I eat the boiled eggs, toast and cheese with a good appetite, but my mind is busy with images of the Buddhas, and the echoes of Qurban’s words.

An hour has passed, and it is time to go to work. My colleague calls, asking about our night at the hotel, and also about the workshop. But I am still distracted.

I cannot understand why I am so caught up in thoughts of the Buddhas. I am obsessed with seeing the statues. A Facebook friend from Iran asked me to send her some pictures. She told me that she had been dreaming of the Buddhas for several nights, and had one dream to worship Buddha. “But there was a hole there,” she told me.

I try to catch a glimpse of the Buddha statues from my room, but I cannot see it. Perhaps it is hidden by the weather, I tell myself, and I leave the hotel and go to see the statues. But soon I come to the empty place. There are no Buddhas, just hollow niches in the mountain.

Salsal and Shamama, the great Buddhas of Bamyan, have been put to sleep. Nine years ago they were laid to rest, deep in the ground.

But why haven’t they woken up? So many voices now call to them, why have they not answered?

The materials that UNESCO brought in to help reconstruct the Buddhas have now all rusted. The laser shows designed by the Japanese to project an image of the Buddhas against the night sky also stand unused beside our hotel, The Roof of the World.

The Buddhas’ place is still empty; there are no signs of Salsal and Shamama in Bamyan Valley.