bobdina
11-16-2009, 02:20 PM
Kabul buzzes with life, even under threat of attacks
Bus ride through Afghan capital reveals frayed, but developing urban life
Kabul buzzes with life, even under threat of attacks
By Sami Sillanpää
“Come in, come in, quickly!” shouts conductor Navid at the bus door. The vehicle is jam-packed, but a few more passengers crush in, to stand in the corridor. Navid jumps on board as the bus is already moving. And off we noisily go into the heavy traffic of the city.
The route goes through the Afghan capital, which has a reputation of being one of the most dangerous places in the world. Last week the increasingly audacious attacks by the Taleban rebels have sparked international concern.
Sitting in the back seat, 75-year-old Haji Amin Malzacla gives out a grunt.
“We have been at war for 30 years. Security is better than before. I do not worry about it at all”, Malzacla says.
The local people do not seem particularly on edge in the city. The roadsides are full of small vendors’ booths offering all types of goods, from used thermos bottles to mobile phones, to sheep carcasses. At one of them, a tank of cooking gas is being placed on the back of a bicycle. In another location, the pavement has been taken over by carpenters and their tools.
The bus moves ahead slowly, because the narrow streets are full of cars. Only the largest of the dusty streets with plenty of potholes have been paved.
After a busy roundabout a cemetery appears by the road. The last time that it was an especially busy place was in 2001, when the Afghan fighters of the Northern Alliance took over Kabul with the help of US-led foreign forces, ejecting the Taleban regime. That was eight years ago.
The Taleban, which promote a fanatical fundamentalist interpretation of Islam, remains strong in the south and east of Afghanistan. The Afghan government, and President Hamid Karzai, who was recently re-elected, control about half of the country, where an estimated 25-35 million people live.
The difference between the Taleban period and the present day is apparent on the bus: men and women are travelling together. The Taleban forced them into separate vehicles.
Malzacla, the old man in the back seat, says that the strict discipline enforced by the Taleban was Afghanistan’s worst time. One of his six sons fled the country, and the journey ended up being a very long one.
His son Haji Hatigulla lived in Russia for more than ten years. But things got bad there, and about six months ago, the son had to take his wife and child with him and leave Russia.
“Now they live in Finland”, Malzacla says.
It is hardly surprising. The suffering experienced by Afghanistan has sent millions of people to other countries.
“My son says that things are well in Finland. I am grateful to the Finns for that.”
The presidential elections that took place this autumn made the Afghans think about development in the post-Taleban period, which the West has been trying to accelerate with a massive military and civilian input.
Positive signs can be seen through the bus windows. New buildings are going hp here and there, open sewers are being replaced by proper drain pipes. Even a mobile telephone network is operational in Kabul. Ring tones can be heard under the clothing of many of the passengers.
Malzacla starts to talk about how foreign money has been a great help. In the front seat a younger man interrupts the conversation.
“The government is lining its own pockets with that money!” he shouts.
“Who puts up buildings like that?” huffs a man, pointing at large buildings made out of glass and steel on the side of the road.
They are wedding halls. Weddings are a good business, because the local people tend to extend invitations somewhat beyond the immediate families of the bride and groom - somewhere in the neighbourhood about a thousand people, for instance.
Only a few roadblocks and inspection points can be seen along the route. Mr. Malzacla plans to get his money’s worth out of the bus ride, which cost 20 afghan, or just over 10 cents, and stay on board until the end of the line outside the city.
Before that, there is a stop at an intersection. The sight that unfolds reveals the tragedy of today’s Afghanistan. On the side of the road, in the midst of the mud and the trash stand a number of makeshift tents, which are the current homes of people fleeing the violence of the Taleban.
At a street corner a solitary man sells bananas from a cart. Next to him there is a water tap, where a man washes his feet. Another one is waiting for his turn with a bucket in his hand. Running water is seen as a luxury by many Kabul residents.
The Thursday evening sun is sinking behind the hills that surround Kabul. Nobody wants to stay in the dark, so the roadsides are buzzing with people, waiting for buses, vans, taxis, or donkey carts, which might give them a ride home.
In the centre, near the famous Chicken Street bazaar, large concrete barriers line the street. Armed security guards tell people who are loitering there to move on.
Arfan Ali, 24, is on his way home. He has followed the news recently, and knows that in other countries, Afghanistan is seen to be at a turning point. Even in the United States, President Barack Obama is considering the deployment of more forces, and a new strategy for the final defeat of the Taleban.
“The forces and foreign aid are good things, but they have not brought a real change to people’s lives.”
Ali, who works in graphics, and as an Internet trainer, is one of the young people in Kabul who are well off, but he feels that Afghanistan’s biggest problems are a weak economy and unemployment. Ali says that he has heard that shops in other countries stay open late into the evening.
“Here everyone goes home when it gets dark. People cannot move about outside in the evenings.
Bus ride through Afghan capital reveals frayed, but developing urban life
Kabul buzzes with life, even under threat of attacks
By Sami Sillanpää
“Come in, come in, quickly!” shouts conductor Navid at the bus door. The vehicle is jam-packed, but a few more passengers crush in, to stand in the corridor. Navid jumps on board as the bus is already moving. And off we noisily go into the heavy traffic of the city.
The route goes through the Afghan capital, which has a reputation of being one of the most dangerous places in the world. Last week the increasingly audacious attacks by the Taleban rebels have sparked international concern.
Sitting in the back seat, 75-year-old Haji Amin Malzacla gives out a grunt.
“We have been at war for 30 years. Security is better than before. I do not worry about it at all”, Malzacla says.
The local people do not seem particularly on edge in the city. The roadsides are full of small vendors’ booths offering all types of goods, from used thermos bottles to mobile phones, to sheep carcasses. At one of them, a tank of cooking gas is being placed on the back of a bicycle. In another location, the pavement has been taken over by carpenters and their tools.
The bus moves ahead slowly, because the narrow streets are full of cars. Only the largest of the dusty streets with plenty of potholes have been paved.
After a busy roundabout a cemetery appears by the road. The last time that it was an especially busy place was in 2001, when the Afghan fighters of the Northern Alliance took over Kabul with the help of US-led foreign forces, ejecting the Taleban regime. That was eight years ago.
The Taleban, which promote a fanatical fundamentalist interpretation of Islam, remains strong in the south and east of Afghanistan. The Afghan government, and President Hamid Karzai, who was recently re-elected, control about half of the country, where an estimated 25-35 million people live.
The difference between the Taleban period and the present day is apparent on the bus: men and women are travelling together. The Taleban forced them into separate vehicles.
Malzacla, the old man in the back seat, says that the strict discipline enforced by the Taleban was Afghanistan’s worst time. One of his six sons fled the country, and the journey ended up being a very long one.
His son Haji Hatigulla lived in Russia for more than ten years. But things got bad there, and about six months ago, the son had to take his wife and child with him and leave Russia.
“Now they live in Finland”, Malzacla says.
It is hardly surprising. The suffering experienced by Afghanistan has sent millions of people to other countries.
“My son says that things are well in Finland. I am grateful to the Finns for that.”
The presidential elections that took place this autumn made the Afghans think about development in the post-Taleban period, which the West has been trying to accelerate with a massive military and civilian input.
Positive signs can be seen through the bus windows. New buildings are going hp here and there, open sewers are being replaced by proper drain pipes. Even a mobile telephone network is operational in Kabul. Ring tones can be heard under the clothing of many of the passengers.
Malzacla starts to talk about how foreign money has been a great help. In the front seat a younger man interrupts the conversation.
“The government is lining its own pockets with that money!” he shouts.
“Who puts up buildings like that?” huffs a man, pointing at large buildings made out of glass and steel on the side of the road.
They are wedding halls. Weddings are a good business, because the local people tend to extend invitations somewhat beyond the immediate families of the bride and groom - somewhere in the neighbourhood about a thousand people, for instance.
Only a few roadblocks and inspection points can be seen along the route. Mr. Malzacla plans to get his money’s worth out of the bus ride, which cost 20 afghan, or just over 10 cents, and stay on board until the end of the line outside the city.
Before that, there is a stop at an intersection. The sight that unfolds reveals the tragedy of today’s Afghanistan. On the side of the road, in the midst of the mud and the trash stand a number of makeshift tents, which are the current homes of people fleeing the violence of the Taleban.
At a street corner a solitary man sells bananas from a cart. Next to him there is a water tap, where a man washes his feet. Another one is waiting for his turn with a bucket in his hand. Running water is seen as a luxury by many Kabul residents.
The Thursday evening sun is sinking behind the hills that surround Kabul. Nobody wants to stay in the dark, so the roadsides are buzzing with people, waiting for buses, vans, taxis, or donkey carts, which might give them a ride home.
In the centre, near the famous Chicken Street bazaar, large concrete barriers line the street. Armed security guards tell people who are loitering there to move on.
Arfan Ali, 24, is on his way home. He has followed the news recently, and knows that in other countries, Afghanistan is seen to be at a turning point. Even in the United States, President Barack Obama is considering the deployment of more forces, and a new strategy for the final defeat of the Taleban.
“The forces and foreign aid are good things, but they have not brought a real change to people’s lives.”
Ali, who works in graphics, and as an Internet trainer, is one of the young people in Kabul who are well off, but he feels that Afghanistan’s biggest problems are a weak economy and unemployment. Ali says that he has heard that shops in other countries stay open late into the evening.
“Here everyone goes home when it gets dark. People cannot move about outside in the evenings.