Worse than Guantanamo
Posted: February 9, 2009 Filed under: Afghanistan | Tags: Bagram, Guantanamo Bay, Torture, War on Terror Leave a commentObama may be closing Guantanamo Bay, but Bagram, the granddaddy of US terror camps, is expanding
Two and a half years ago, a grudge festered in a sleepy hamlet in eastern Afghanistan. Under a midday sun, American soldiers came to seize Musakhil Gahfor. According to his younger brother, an angry neighbour had tipped them off that Musakhil was stockpiling weapons. They found nothing but took their man anyway. It was the last his family would hear of him for five months.
Musakhil disappeared into Bagram Theatre Internment Facility – a US prison notorious for the interrogation techniques pioneered there and the subsequent torture and death of men in custody. American soldiers who served there would export what they learned to Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq. Twice the size of the detention centre at Guantanamo Bay, Bagram is the granddaddy of US terror camps. Read the rest of this entry »
‘If you have a problem, the Taliban solves it. In the government offices there is only corruption and bribery’
Posted: January 3, 2009 Filed under: Afghanistan | Tags: Afghanistan, NATO, Surge, Taliban, Wardak Leave a commentAFGHANISTAN: Losing the battle for Afghan hearts and minds.
THEY fled in the dead of night, taking what belongings they could, and telling no-one they were leaving for fear of ambush.
Hakimi and his family did not quit the badlands of the south, though, nor the hostile reaches of eastern Afghanistan. They came from Wardak province, less than an hour’s drive from the capital.
But just 30 miles from Kabul, it is Taliban country. Over the past year, the militants have established a stronghold in Wardak, which borders the capital to the south and west. Nine months ago, one of the province’s two hospitals, a German-run clinic, shut down after staff there also received death threats.
The UN evacuated its humanitarian staff from all but one of Wardak’s eight districts in September, citing security concerns. Roshanak Wardak, a member of parliament for the province, has said there are areas she is “100% sure no government worker can go to”.
Not without reason. The head of the attorney-general’s office in one Wardak district was kidnapped and killed by the Taliban three months ago. Days later, Afghan army, police and coalition forces said they had killed or wounded around 60 insurgents in a two-day battle that raged close to the Afghan capital. The number of attacks by Taliban-linked militants in Wardak has increased by 58% since 2007, according to security analyst Sami Kovanen in Kabul.
As it reasserts control over large swathes of countryside, the Taliban has been installing a shadow government to answer civilian needs. In the absence of effective local governance, the militants have been arresting criminals, providing courts, dispensing justice, running prisons and organising public executions – all within an hour’s drive of Kabul.
Hakimi’s fears were borne out just weeks after his family’s escape, when his cousin Naim was hanged by the Taliban for joining the Afghan National Army (ANA). His body swung from a tree for two days with a sign on his chest warning that whoever cut him down would suffer the same fate.
“My cousin was hanging three kilometres from the police district building,” said Hakimi. “But they were not able to retrieve his body.” Eventually, aid workers from the Afghan Red Crescent Society defied the ban and brought the body in.
A series of interviews with people from Wardak told a similar story.
“The police control their own buildings and maybe the 10 metres surrounding them,” said 40-year-old Habibullah Noori, who runs a minibus service between Wardak and Kabul. “There may be police checkpoints but there are also lots of Taliban checkpoints.”
News agency AP reported several days ago that checkpoint police in Wardak sometimes wear traditional robes so they can pass themselves off as civilians at the first sign of trouble. And whereas the government often turns a blind eye to crime – one interviewee said that “the other name for police is robbers” – the Taliban not only fails to tolerate it, but offers swift justice. Hakimi explained that the Taliban likes open and shut cases so its members can concentrate on fighting. “Every village has a Taliban representative and if anything happens, people go to him to say, We have this problem ‘. He doesn’t want to spend much time on it – so decisions are quick.” They can take a little as 24 hours.
But Noori, the minibus driver, said the Taliban’s system is better than the government’s. “If you have a problem the Taliban solves it,” he said. “In the government offices there is only corruption and bribery.
“Last year, the Taliban did not have 80, 90 or 100% control,” he added. “It was a mess. There were robbers, killers, everything. Now, you could walk around with 10kg of gold on your head and no-one would touch you. You can walk around at night without fear.”
As an example of the rough justice meted out, he cited a robbery in late summer when eight trucks of wheat disappeared. The Taliban investigated, found the trucks and returned them to their owners. Militants shot the leader of the robbers in the head, and let the others go with severe beatings and after extracting promises that there would be no repeat offence. Other Taliban punishments include parading criminals with their faces daubed black or amputating the hands of robbers. But cases aren’t limited to theft and murder. Far more frequently, aggrieved parties will seek arbitration of a property dispute – the most common cause of friction between Afghans, according to interviewees.
The procedure, should you have trouble of some sort, is to go to the nearest mosque and find the local Taliban representative. “He will say, Come back tomorrow at 10 o’clock and we will have the man who has done something’ – and he will be there,” Noori told me. “If the problem is small, a mullah will solve it. If it’s bigger, it will be a judge trained more extensively in Sharia law.”
Meanwhile, an uneasy detente is said to exist between the Taliban in Wardak and the local police, with both sides realising that full-scale confrontation is to neither’s advantage.
“If they create problems for us, we can create problems for them,” said 22-year-old Taliban foot soldier Spin Ghel. The failure of the police to drive 3km to retrieve Naim’s hanging corpse would appear to bear out his point. But Ghel, who wore a leather jacket over his salwar kameez and seemed to have joined the Taliban more out of boredom or frustration than for any ideological reason, claimed the relationship went deeper than that.
“They exchanged powerful commanders for that Italian journalist who was kidnapped,” he said, referring to the abduction in 2007 of Daniele Mastrogiacomo, who was released in exchange for Taliban prisoners. Whatever the extent of the alleged collusion, with a salary of just $65 a month it is hard to see why any police trooper would risk his life to take on the Taliban’s protection racket.
A key part of the Taliban’s success in Wardak is its network of informants. Gulbuddin, another young Taliban fighter, said there were around 70 spies in Kabul on the Taliban’s payroll, providing information about convoy movements, individuals visiting the province, and their families. At roadblocks, which can vary from a handful of militants waving down traffic to as many as 40, the insurgents have the registration numbers of approaching vehicles and descriptions of the passengers they carry.
“When my cousin was arrested, making a visit home, there were 40 men who came to get him,” said Hakimi. “All private taxis to Wardak leave from one specific location. That’s why it’s simple for them to know who is coming. They monitor everyone coming and going. If you’re wearing beautiful, nice, expensive clothing they are suspicious. They think you must be working for the government or UN. If you’re wearing dirty clothes, have a beard, long hair, turban, they think that’s fine.”
How far the Taliban’s services reach is unclear, but they are far from comprehensive. “The Taliban are very poor,” said Noori. “They can’t afford to provide healthcare – most of the time they are asking people to feed them.” Although in some places the Taliban is reported to extort a 10% tax from Afghans at the barrel of a gun, shadow governance of this sort has yet to reach Wardak.
Gulbuddin seemed less than enthusiastic about many of his duties, but reeled them off: searching ANA, aid or government workers, and arresting robbers. “We have district chiefs,” he said, “and we await their orders to see who we should hang. With most of the foreigners we arrest, we have to wait for orders from the Taliban in Pakistan.”
On the subject of prisons, he said the nearest to Kabul was an hour’s drive away. “The prisons are different – they can be residential houses or they can be caves that double as Taliban bases,” he explained, smiling. “Once people complained that maybe the coalition would bomb the houses we were using and kill them so now we try to use abandoned mud houses no-one knows about. We are always moving.”
Gulbuddin smiled a lot, but most of all when he was discussing ambushes on convoys – his chief occupation. Afghanistan’s ring road, the country’s main artery around which the densest population centres are located, runs straight through Wardak and is virtually impassable to Western and government forces. But so vital is control of this road that the US and Nato have made winning it back one of their top priorities for 2009.
“Most of the time, we attack on convoys,” said Gulbuddin. “For example, every time Afghan or coalition forces leave their bases to go somewhere, we have spies who alert our commanders. We gather on the front line with RPGs (rocket-propelled grenades), PKM heavy machine guns, and AK-47s as a third resort.”
Four 10-men units set up diagonally opposite each other at the site of the planned ambush, and good cover and escape routes are critical considerations when choosing the site, “especially when battles can last several hours,” said Gulbuddin. The first two units will wait for the convoy to pass before opening fire on the vehicles bringing up the rear. As the convoy accelerates forward the remaining fighters will start shooting at the van.
So precarious is the balance of the fight on Kabul’s doorstep that the “vast majority” of the first wave of US reinforcements to Afghanistan – the 3rd Mountain Brigade of the 10th Mountain Division – will be sent to Wardak and neighbouring Logar province, according to a US army spokeswoman. Outfits such as the UK’s 3rd Commando Brigade, deployed in Helmand province in the volatile south and taking heavy casualties, will have to wait for back-up. Military commanders expect an initial spike in fighting before the extra troops start to quell the violence.
“You will increase the level of incidents and violence when you first put troops into an area, that’s to be expected and indeed in some ways welcomed because that’s the purpose of going there in the first place,” Nato’s deputy commander in Afghanistan, Lieutenant General Jim Dutton, said recently. Wardak locals said that until now foreign troops and ANA patrols had sometimes entered their villages – but never stayed for long. They interpreted this as a precautionary measure against the possibility of a Taliban attack.
“Sometimes they come and talk to previous commanders of the mujahidin, distributing sweets to children for five or 10 minutes. But that’s it,” said Noori.
A spokesman for the coalition forces said: “Help is on its way. The arrival of the 3rd Brigade will certainly help boost the number of forces in the area. The locals will probably see a lot more soldiers.”
“We want the government to take control,” said Noori. “But otherwise they should leave it to the Taliban. We civilians always end up trapped in the middle.”
Demons of war that haunt the Afghan people
Posted: December 27, 2008 Filed under: Afghanistan | Tags: Afghanistan, cannibalism, djinns, Kabul, mental illness Leave a commentAFGHANISTAN: Years of conflict take toll, with 68% of population thought to have mental problems
POLICE found the girl’s body wrapped in a bag and dumped in one of the open sewage trenches that line Kabul’s roads.
No one knows for sure what happened in the previous 90 minutes.
But the police report states the four-year-old girl had been stolen from a home in one of the Afghan capital’s less salubrious neighbourhoods, after her grandmother failed to humour an intrusive beggar with rice and oil. The girl’s hands had been cut off. Her throat had been slit. And the flesh on her arms, legs and chest had been eaten.
Few people seem to care what motivated the prime suspect, Jabakhel.
“She had a psychological problem,” shrugged General Ali Shah Paktiawal, Kabul’s police chief. Anyway, he pointed out, crime was crime.
“No-one understands what kind of illness this is,” said the head of the branch of the attorney-general’s office dealing with the case. But he said he had seen an equally grisly incident at his last posting in one of the provinces. “It seems to be a kind of illness affecting women,” he concluded.
For some Afghan tribes, custom dictates that the death of a child will exorcise djinns – evil spirits – and though the full details of what happened to four-year-old Haifa may never be known, her murder is an extreme example of a pervasive problem in Afghanistan: mental illness.
In the wake of the 2001 US-led invasion, the new Afghan government identified mental health as one of its top five priorities. Later, the World Health Organisation reported that: “Due to the long period of conflict, over two million Afghans are affected by mental health problems, with high cases of post-traumatic stress disorder, depression and severe anxiety, particularly among women.”
More recent studies paint a far bleaker picture. Dutch humanitarian organisation Health Net Organisation (HNO) estimates that a staggering 68% of Afghanistan’s population of 33 million suffer some kind of mental condition. Women and children are particularly at risk, HNO reported last month. Only Nepal has a greater proportion of children with mental health problems.
HNO said the main reasons for the mental problems affecting children in Afghanistan are war, poverty and domestic violence.
The majority of sufferers have mild conditions. Traditionally, mentally disturbed people have visited the shrines of spiritual leaders, been locked in cells, or given talismans by mullahs. At the Mia Ali sanctuary in eastern Afghanistan, inmates are chained to a tree for a month as a form of spiritual cure. Most people believe that illnesses come from God – and that what the Lord giveth, the Lord can take away.
But at nearby Jalalabad public hospital, the head of the mental ward, Ahmad Zahir Allahyar, agreed with the findings of the HNO report. “War is the main cause for developing this kind of disease. Most of them have histories of losing members of their families,” he said.
For those with severe mental health problems, the number of hospitals catering to them is slowly increasing. Aliawat Hospital falls under the auspices of Kabul Medical University. As well as caring for patients with neuro-vascular diseases, a team of two psychiatrists and 10 trainees treats people with schizophrenia, psychosis, dementia, anxiety and depression.
Dr Hidayat Danish marched down the white-tiled corridors to a ward where Sharifa, a 20-year-old woman, chewed her lips and played with a blue headscarf. She looked terrified and was consumed by visions of “floods, rivers and clean pure waters”, she said. She had not slept for five days.
“Initially we thought she was suffering from anxiety,” said Danish, “but ended up having to treat her with anti-psychotic drugs. It’s unclear what prompted the onset of psychosis-other than 30 years of war and domestic violence.”
But there is widespread confusion about mental ailments, and a cultural inability to understand or articulate the problems. Sharifa still believes her hallucinations are the product of an infectious disease. And while drugs may help treat some mental health problems, they are powerless to change the circumstances that drive people insane in the first place.
For some, the only cure appears to be death. At Marastoon, an asylum on a windswept plain west of Kabul, men and women eke out sedated lives without hope of recovery. The female doctor running the clinic said: “Those who can’t get better they send to us. Most of the patients are unrecoverable. We are just struggling to keep them calm.”
Kairun Nisa, whose name means “the best of women”, says she is from far, far away. Her family is also far away. Furthest away is her husband, who died in a rocket attack.
Nasrin saw one of her brothers burn to death in a fire. Another brother was killed fighting. An arranged marriage was the final straw and she went “completely mad” according to one of her caretakers.
In sight of the compound is a patch of broken stones and tumbleweed – a cemetery for those inmates who never manage to exorcise their djinns.