Now that things in Afghanistan was settling in with its new rulers, the roads to all the provinces were open and considered “safe”. We could travel all of Afghanistan. From the far end of Nimroz to the little leg valley of Badakhshan. But we heard rumours that Kandahar would return to being the capital again now that the Islamic Emirate were in power.
Still we had not seen the Supreme Leader Hibatullah Akhundzada make an appearance but we heard he lives in Kandahar, so this became our first road trip. Taking the A1 highway that the Americans spent so much money building.
I had only ridden on this road to Ghazni once but never all the way to Kandahar. It was considered volatile with Taliban fake check points, IEDs and ensured insecurity. Plus people drove like maniacs.
Naweed organised his cousin again Shafiq who came Naweed’s car as his suspension we believed were much better for what Shafiq was suggesting some real bumpy roads. I took the front passenger seat so I could take photos as I went along, and Hollie and Naweed sat in the back.
We drove through the busy morning streets of Kabul. The Taliban were adorning the streets of Kabul especially its large roundabout with their flags.
The Taliban checkpoints were seldom and they would look into the car, see Hollie and tell us we could keep on moving. Some would stop us and I pulled out our letter from Zabiullah Mujahid that stated that I was a journalist and had the right to be able to go anywhere in Afghanistan. The guard would apologise for the inconvenience and wave us on.
We drove first into Logar which is where Shafiq lived in a small village off the main road. The main road of Logar was actually incredible. We reached speeds of 140km with no potholes or speed bumps, just a three laned highway. The 900 million dollar fuel run power plant was an abandoned project on the way we could see. They never used it and the government just relied on paying electricity from its neighbours.
Shafiq had invited us to his home for breakfast and so we took a turn onto the dirt roads and we stopped at his home. He ran off to prepare breakfast and Naweed took us to his families plot of land. The arid land had some vegetables tended by a guardian who was a neighbour. It was quiet and peaceful, away from the bustle of Kabul.
We visited the local school in the neighbourhood. School has always been separated boys and girls in Afghanistan with girls at a different timetable. The teachers had told us they had not received any salary for several months but they continued teaching because what else was there to do. Young boys studied hard but most of the boys would ultimately drop out to work on the farms or tend sheep. Most children seeking education would have to live with relatives likely in Kabul but these were people who lived on less than $100 a month. Financing a boy was a luxury.
Naweed took us back to Shafiq and breakfast had been served. It was home made bread, large and thick with oily cooked eggs as well as homemade yoghurt. Quite delicious. He had a beautiful garden filled with fruits and vegetables. Tomatoes dried on a tray and grapes were in bags to keep them from the insects.
Once we were well fed, we went to a town where there was the most fighting and concentration of Taliban. Logar, its closest neighbouring province was one of the province that had seen the most amount of fighting. Village homes were decimated by artillery and rocket fire. Walls were riddled with dents made by automatic fire.
We stopped small mosque with no glass in the window. The caretaker said the Taliban used to hide here to escape the bombings and regroup to take on Afghan and US forces.
Part of the mosque was destroyed by mortar and you could see the Taliban had made a tunnel and a bunker underneath to hide. There was no Taliban though in the Logar village, they had all moved onto the capital.
Soon we were in the main roundabout of Logar and we met with the Minister of Information and Culture, Akif Mujaher, a short direct man with thick set glasses. He gave us permission to see some of the bases the US left behind and went to Baki Barak base which was where I had spent some time working on a documentary that was on Netflix called the Fighting Season.
US Special Forces used to be set up here to do all sorts of operations but the bases had been dismantled. All of the shelters and homes were pulled apart, only hesco barriers and sand bags were left.
All the Taliban we met we asked why they fought. The usual answer was for Islam and ending corruption but some broke their media training of what they were meant to say for press. For Akif, it was hearing the screaming of his neighbours when they were being raided, for another, his father and brother being killed by US forces and a young guy, getting his beard burnt by Afghan government soldiers at a checkpoint by a lighter. Most Talibs never turned to look at Hollie when she asked a question and would either direct the answer to me or to Naweed.
We visited a madrassa as well to learn about where Talib get recruited but we had a young Qari who was quite nervous to answer with the Talib escorting us. Frustrated we made our way to Ghazni, an ancient city. The road got worse and we made it at night. There no nice hotel but we found a place for $8 a room. The toilets were something else and we were lucky to get the key of the managers toilet which weren’t as used as the shared bathroom.