PANJSHIR, Afghanistan: Fog swirls around rolling mountains dotted with mud huts and emerald waters seep through narrow, pebble-filled canals. On the surface, the Panjshir Valley is an image of serenity. But one cannot help but feel the uncertainty and tension hidden in the hills.
As we traveled through the eight districts on Friday, under the eye of the Taliban, it seems clear, despite last week’s reports and confusion over whether Panjshir had fallen, that Afghanistan’s new ruling power has undoubtedly gained close control.
Dozens of stolen Taliban fighters congregate outside the Panjshir revenue department. They all come from Farah province about 500 miles away and belong to a unit deployed quickly to places as needed. Taliban commander Mawlawy Khalid claims that all of Panjshir was completely confiscated three days earlier, but many panjshiris have fled to the mountains.
“We will give them a deadline, today or tomorrow or always (to surrender),” Khalid said, adding that those who do not surrender “shoot them.”
According to Khalid, the surrender process is that once the weapons have been checked and handed over, the person is given “a letter” indicating that he is “free” to return home normally.
The enclave has gained some mythological reputation over the years. First, it was the triumphant center against Soviet occupation in the 1980s, and then the only province in Afghanistan that did not fall into the hands of the Taliban during its last government from 1996 to 2001. Then, as the Taliban went quickly capturing the country in the twilight of the US withdrawal, Panjshir was the last bastion of the anti-Taliban resistance.
Meanwhile, Haji Asad, another Taliban commander, parked in an office overlooking the eponymous monument in honor of the iconic Northern Alliance commander Ahmad Shad Masoud, also indicates that pressure is underway and proclaims an average surrender of 100 to 200 people per day.
“We have a team of these old people who go to the mountains and talk to them [those in the mountains] and tell them to come down and talk to us. Otherwise, we will send by force, “he warns.” They have to come down from the mountain and live in their house. “
Depending on their scope, the Taliban have the same policy today as the previous reign two decades ago.
“It was the wrong image given that the Taliban are doing wrong and not practicing human rights,” he says. “We want a peaceful Afghanistan, a united Afghanistan. We hope that neighboring countries do not interfere [here] month. We want good relations with everyone, including America ”.
Asad says Panjshiris can visit the Masoud monument freely. Yet to this day, it remains a painfully barren place, guarded by a number of original guardians and the Taliban, including its engineer and head of agriculture in the nation’s north, Raaz Muhammad, who arrived a day earlier. .
“We are running office operations and we are asking each and every one of you to go home, please we don’t want any problems for anyone,” Muhammad, who previously worked for various World Bank-related agricultural initiatives, tells me.
However, photos circulating on social media show the iconic desecrated tomb. The Taliban leadership does not deny that this is happening, but claims that local looters are responsible. The Taliban claim that they are protecting the helicopters and the rusty old plane and cars that once belonged to the late Masoud and that quickly show us that they remain intact. The black and white flags of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan are found everywhere, even on faded billboards with Commander Masoud.
According to Assad, there are approximately 8,000 Taliban members stationed throughout Panjshir.
Almost all the shops along the main and dusty road that runs through the province are tightly closed and almost all the vehicles – and standing soldiers – that belong to the Taliban from distant places, curious faces from endless days in the countryside battle and all with a rifle in hand.
At the Marshal Fahim sports stadium, three helicopters (two Blackhawks and an attack helicopter) belonging to the Panjshiri direction remain on the ground. The Taliban move with various weapons, mainly American M4 and M16 and occasional SAW and PKM. A pair of .50 calibers are also on display. Some have armored trucks probably inherited from the extensive Afghan security forces. Their supplies are fastened to the back with canvas decorated with the United Nations logo and others push battered cars with broken claws.
Further down the valley is Asad’s Kandahar Taliban team, led by 34-year-old Hussein Ahmad, who has been fighting for years and simply says he grew up around the Taliban. Assad has an office in the presidential palace, he points out, and promises that despite talks that the Taliban will move their capital to Kandahar, only his political office will be there while the other ministries remain in Kabul.
In any case, mistrust both inside and outside Panjshir remains palpable. I see splashes of local men, usually huddled in small groups outside the dark, abandoned shop windows. Some jump from their feet at the sight of a Taliban armored truck rolling through them, and others make a wave in a mixture of fear and curiosity.
However, frightened families are still fleeing. We see a van filled with people and piles of belongings tied to the top in one case. Taliban commander Hussein Ahmad has the driver shake over his ashen face with apparent nerves to ask him why they are leaving and promise that the Taliban will not hurt them.
“Everyone is gone; our families have gone to Kabul, “the man says.” But maybe we’ll come back. “
From my point of view, the central province remains intact. The most discordant evidence of combat exists through the remains of decimated vehicles, including Humvees, Rangers, and a mine-proof armored vehicle, the MX-Pro.
Taliban commanders say they have set up additional checkpoints to “ensure security,” but have instructed guards not to stop any vehicle carrying a woman.
I only observe a few small children in the ghostly province. A couple are beggars wandering aimlessly looking for spare changes or spritely excited children following the herd of goats moving amid the final vestiges of daylight. I only observe one woman, who moves up towards a mud house in the distance.
Much of the information gap in recent weeks has been absorbed by an almost total blackout of the media due, in large part, to the facing communications situation. However, the Taliban appeared to be making calls and using their phones in and around the artery. When asked, they said they were using the UAE-based supplier Etisalat. However, there is no coverage in the mountains.
Despite the strong Taliban presence from start to finish, many analysts point out that the coming weeks are crucial in determining the outcome of the NRF. The leader of the Panjshiri tribe, Ahmad Masoud, son of Ahmad Shad Masoud, who was assassinated by Al Qaeda two days before the 9/11 attacks, has stood firm in his call to continue fighting.
Much of Masoud’s reluctance to negotiate with the Taliban has focused on the concern that the new government would not be inclusive. At the same time, however, the announcement of the new interim government earlier this week, made up entirely of Taliban members, has received condemnation from the panjshiris and much of the international community.
I do not know what will happen to the majestic Panjshir and I cannot say for sure if and when the fighting has ceased. I don’t see or hear any skirmishes, except for what sounds like two rockets launched into the distance when the sun starts to fall.
Still, NRF activists continue to alarm about the fate of the famous province and fear the fate of those in the mountains without adequate food and humanitarian aid arriving as the winter months unfold, and what will happen if they do or do not give up.
I know some Panjshiris who say they are committed to staying in their beloved enclave and others who admit they have nowhere else to go.
For others, the pain of conflicts across their country is running out.
“This has been going on for years,” adds Abdul Hay, who guards a mosque in the provincial capital Bazarak and claims the religious building was damaged by bullets days earlier. “People get bored and the rest are scared.”