“I’ve been assigned as a border crossing guard here,” he says. “The puppet government is gone, without any resistance; they all surrendered.”
The guard boasts of improvements made to the clock, including extending the hours when the border is open. “Let me tell you,” he adds. “We used to have a single line for both men and women. Now they’re separated.”
The decision is hardly a source of controversy at the border; on the other hand, a Pakistani official, willing to cooperate with his new known Taliban, says it is useful to separate people by gender while waiting to be prosecuted.
But seen in the context of the Taliban’s previous rule, the separation of men and women suggests a small administrative encapsulation of what many fears will once again become the norm in Afghanistan.
When power came to an end between 1996 and 2001, the Taliban banned women from leaving their homes unaccompanied by a man, forced them to cover their bodies, and prevented them from working in virtually every field. in the healthcare field.
In recent days, a journalist has made a trip from the Pakistani border to southeastern Afghanistan and to Kabul. Along the way, he attended Taliban rallies and spoke with locals and business owners about how the capture of the militant group in the country had affected them.
In some cities, the new rule of law has been strongly imposed on locals; Afghans who spoke to the journalist generally described a general sense of improved security since the Taliban arrived.
But the trip also revealed an abyss between the Taliban’s insistence on a strict new social order and the simple, desperate need to make a living for the locals. Many companies were devastated, with owners desperately looking for customers and employees who spent several months without pay. There are also concerns about Afghans’ access to basic services and whether health care will be widely available in the coming weeks and months.
And while thousands of people arrive at the borders in an attempt to escape the Taliban, those who remain have engaged in an awkward dynamic with local Taliban officials, many of whom have heard much about the rule of law, but little about the future of their finances. , their businesses and their communities.
The new regime
The Taliban have quickly set up their own courts across the country. “Before we had to go far to get a Taliban court,” says a local leader in one of these places in Gardez, the capital of Paktia province. There are now many established across the country, which serve as a reminder of the Taliban’s previous harsh policies of law and order.
A judge, his deputy and other local leaders sit in a circle on the floor, discussing the dramatic change in governance from previous weeks.
“We asked previous judges how they worked before (and) they said they followed the law of the country, not sharia law,” says Taliban judge Qazi Ubaidullah. “In the Islamic Emirate, all court proceedings are in accordance with Sharia law.”
It is unclear how radical the Taliban’s interpretation of sharia law will be, this time about two decades ago, which led to the persecution and persecution of various groups, including women, LGBTQ people and ethnic minorities.
A look at a Taliban public meeting gives a much more rosy first impression. “Look around you: everyone is happy,” a local elder says at a Taliban event in Nawa. “A new life has begun in Afghanistan.”
But several other people from across the region spoke with affection for the Taliban only when the cameras were on. Behind the scenes, there is a clear concern among many Afghans about what the new regime means to them.
“Our situation is not good”
At a hospital west of the border, the most urgent concern is money. A maternity nurse says the small medical center has not experienced any problems in the weeks since the Taliban took control; but he says he has not been paid any salary for four consecutive months.
Dr. Janad Khan, in charge of running the small medical center, unlocks the padlock on the warehouse door. Inside the dusty room, between files and packed boxes, there is enough medical supplies for three months.
“May, June, July, August … are pending,” he says, pointing to a pile of payments he was supposed to receive from the Afghan government when he came to power in his final weeks. Since the region fell to the Taliban last month, Khan said he has not received the payments needed to keep the hospital running.
And while many around the world are watching the Taliban’s approach to social justice very closely, economic concerns remain the main concern for many Afghans, as they did months ago.
“Prices are high. Everything is very expensive,” says a fruit seller at a market in Paktika province. “Our situation is not good.”
The Taliban are visible in rural areas, but many Afghans there believe they have given no guarantee to the people. “We don’t know who’s in charge; there are only people of lower rank and we don’t know if we can trust them,” says the fruit seller. “They don’t tell us anything and the situation hasn’t improved.”
Poverty was within Afghanistan’s reach before the Taliban took over, and in the weeks following its takeover, the country’s already fragile economy has collapsed. Weekly bank closures have left millions unable to access their savings and international agencies, including the World Bank and IMF, have suspended funding in the region.
On Tuesday, the Taliban announced a new interim government. Its tough composition, made up mainly of veterans who oversaw the 20-year struggle against the U.S.-led military coalition, could complicate international normalization efforts and thwart efforts to resume aid to the country.
Doctors Without Borders has warned that the country’s health system could collapse due to a lack of international aid. The UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs said last week that access to food aid and other vital resources is about to run out.
“There is a humanitarian catastrophe,” UN Secretary-General António Guterres said last week. “People are losing access to commodities and services every day.”
We don’t know what’s going on
On the streets of the eastern provinces of Afghanistan, this translates into a disturbing everyday reality.
“We don’t really know what’s going on, there are those who are afraid, there are those who have their own problems and some have left the country,” says one market man. Another says rumors have spread in his community that the salaries of doctors and teachers will be cut.
“They haven’t charged us in the last four or five months,” he says. “The old government is gone … but even under this new creation (there are no) salaries.”
In a tea shop, where finances are more stable, the owner adds, “I have no complaints about the Taliban, my business is doing well.”
But fundamental local concerns still have priority. “The only complaint I have is that the roads are closed and I want them to open soon so we can transport our products.”
The complaints found here and throughout southeastern Afghanistan show an abyss between the Taliban’s focus on social order priorities as opposed to the concerns of many Afghans.
“We have problems with the economy,” says another man, who claims an undeniable truth that has driven thousands of people to the borders of Afghanistan in recent weeks. “The Taliban should improve relations with the world, aid should come back, projects should start all over again.”
For those who are willing to share their true feelings, the question remains whether the Taliban will succeed.