| | Kandahar is a symbol of Afghanistan's dashed hopes Minneapolis Star
08/20/2006
By Pamela Constable
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Although the Taliban threat is crushing the city, many residents also blame the government for not bringing security as promised. KANDAHAR - Less than a year ago, Kandahar was a city on the rebound after years of conflict, drought and political isolation. Business was booming with an influx of international development aid, shops stayed open late, markets burst with locally grown fruit and traffic snarled hopelessly much of the time.
Today Kandahar is a ghost town, braced for the next suicide bomb and full of refugees from rural districts where Taliban insurgents are battling Afghan and NATO forces. Streets are all but empty of vehicles, foreign aid offices are reduced to skeleton crews, and shoppers hurry home before dark instead of lingering at tea shops. As 10,000 NATO troops fan across southern Afghanistan seeking to contain and quash the rapidly growing insurgency, Kandahar -- both the religious birthplace of the Taliban militia and the homeland of President Hamid Karzai -- seems to symbolize the dashed hopes and angry confusion that have gripped much of Afghanistan's Pashtun tribal belt. Many residents say they hate and fear the Taliban fighters, who occupy villages, burn down girls' schools and execute district administrators. But people in Kandahar also express deep disappointment in the Karzai government, saying it has failed to bring security or services to a region that expected much of its president and native son. They also resent the foreign military forces that have raided their homes and bombed their villages and yet have been unable to stop the insurgents. "The Taliban keep appearing from nowhere, and we are not sure if NATO will be strong enough to defeat them," said Fariba Ahmad, 32, a member of parliament from Kandahar, who said she must cover with a veil now to protect herself on the street. "People feel so hopeless and frustrated with the government that some support the Taliban, because they have nowhere else to turn." The danger is much greater outside this provincial capital, especially in districts such as Panjwai, a grape-growing area about 30 miles west, which has been the scene of near-constant fighting this summer. Many families fled the district in May after a fierce battle between Taliban and pro-government forces led to a U.S. airstrike that killed 16 civilians and many insurgents. "The Taliban told us to leave or we would be killed, and then the American bombs destroyed everything. I am angry at both of them," said Shah Bibi, 55, whose family escaped Panjwai on tractors and now occupies a ruined mud compound in the city, without water or electricity. The family brought its guard dog and a crib for the youngest child but had to leave behind its sheep and cows. "I don't know what became of them," she said with a worried frown. A different kind of refugee is Zahir Akhund, 48, a former longtime Taliban member from Panjwai who recently entered the Afghan government's reconciliation program. Officials of the program said several hundred Taliban members would be willing to quit fighting, if only the government could find the resources to provide them with shelter, jobs and protection. Akhund and the officials said Taliban leaders constantly pressured wavering fighters to return to the fray, alternately offering money and threatening death. Officials with NATO, which took over the military command in Afghanistan last month, said that while the final U.S.-led operation this summer killed nearly 800 Taliban fighters, it also revealed how large and committed the insurgency has become. "The Taliban used to be mostly hit and run," said one NATO official, who spoke on condition of anonymity, "but now they have certain areas they want to fight for and keep." Washington Post
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