|
September
29, 2001
In Afghanistan:
Afghans Ask Only One Question:
When Will The Air Strikes Begin?
By Patrick Cockburn
in
Panjshir Valley
The Independent
People
fled their homes in Kabul yesterday fearing a US air attack when
they heard Taliban anti-aircraft gunners open fire. It turned
out to be a military exercise.
The opening of an air offensive
is expected to lead to the exodus of hundreds of thousands of
refugees from Afghan cities, but it is not clear where they can
go. Only a trickle of people, mainly Tajiks, are making the difficult
journey to areas north of Kabul held by the opposition Northern
Alliance.
Afghanistan has only two weeks'
supply of drugs left in its hospitals, a senior Taliban foreign
ministry official told a Western doctor. This may be a sign that
the country's shattered health system may be finally about to
collapse.
The Northern Alliance says
it has launched limited probing attacks against Taliban positions,
but fighting has been light, and hardly any wounded fighters
have reached the Panjshir Valley, the main opposition stronghold.
Afghans in this part of the
country persistently ask foreigners, almost invariably journalists,
about the date when the US air assault will begin. Few believe,
however, that a bombing attack alone will remove the Taliban.
"Afghanistan is a mountainous country and bombs don't have
much effect," said Mohammed Shaqer, a Tajik police officer
working for the Northern Alliance.
He suggested that the United
States and its allies provide air support for the opposition
ground forces, which would then defeat the Taliban. It is doubtful,
however, if the Northern Alliance army of 15,000 men has the
numbers or the political support to beat the Taliban, even if
the US was prepared to give it air support. Its victory would
also be strongly opposed by Pakistan.
Defections from Taliban ranks
much heralded in the US media may occur, but the
Taliban, notorious in the treacherous world of Afghan politics,
are closely watching those whose loyalty is suspect.
For the moment Afghans at every
level, from the humblest villagers to commanders of the Northern
Alliance, are waiting to see what the US will do. Although their
information is often scant all have a firm grip on the realities
of power. In interviews, opposition leaders stress their determination
to join the battle against terrorism, though those speaking English
usually pronounce the word as "tourism". "I have
been fighting against tourism in Afghanistan for 24 years,"
one commander told us stoutly.
So many Afghans live close
to or below subsistence level that it would not take much to
reduce them to starvation. Life in the Panjshir Valley, as in
much of Afghanistan, is medieval in the real sense of the word.
There is no electricity, clean water supplies, sewage or health
systems. Children have not been immunised against diseases such
as TB, polio, diphtheria or measles for four or five years.
Ordinary Afghans show interest
but little excitement over the international crisis centred on
their country. This is because they have been at war for almost
a quarter of a century. In any case, many Afghans, though badgered
by journalists for their political views, have interests which
have nothing to do with the possible US invasion.
The Western stereotype of the
Afghan male pictures him either as a sturdy mountain warrior,
a starving refugee or a religious fanatic. In the midst of hunger
and war, the Afghans maintain a touching obsession with flowers.
You see them planted and carefully watered in the front line
and on patches of ground beside the road in impoverished, dusty
villages.
Abdullah Abdullah , the foreign
minister of the Northern Alliance, gives his press conferences
in the splendid garden of a government guest house, which is
filled with carefully tended orange, pink and scarlet flowers.
The gardener in charge is determined
to show his blooms to television viewers around the world. At
the last press conference he first placed a large jug of them
on the table in front of Mr Abdullah. This was rapidly removed
to make way for reporters' microphones.
Undaunted the gardener then
tied a bouquet of pink flowers to a sapling just behind the minister's
head until an officious security man told him to take them away.
CounterPunch:
Complete
Coverage of 9/11 and Its Aftermath
|