The Taleb's Tale

I joined the Taleban because I fell in love. I was just 18, and although I was born in Helmand, I’d spent my whole life in Pakistan.



Afghanistan in those years was too dangerous; there was so much fighting, first with the Russians, later among the warlords. So my father sent us to Peshawar, where I went to school. He and his brothers stayed on in Lashkar Gah, the administrative centre of Helmand, where they ran shops.



In early 2001, when the Taleban were still in power, I came back for a visit. It was the first time I’d been to Afghanistan since I was a baby.



On my first day back, I was in my father’s shop when I met a girl.



I am a simple man – what did I know of these things? In Peshawar it was different; we studied with girls, and they did not wear burqas.



Now here was a girl whose face I could not see, yet she gave me a letter and told me she loved me.



After some weeks, when we had met several times, I asked her to raise her burqa. Then I too fell in love.



When my father found out, he was very angry. He wanted me to leave and go back to Pakistan, but I was in love with my burqa-girl.



So I stayed on in Helmand. And that’s when the trouble started.



The Taleban had a rule that every family that owned land had to provide them with a fighter. My family was pretty rich and owned many hectares of land. But we also had money, so we just “bought” a guy for 60 million afghani - about 1,200 US dollars at the time - and he went instead.



The next time the Taleban came, they wanted to levy a fighter from every family which owned shops. So we bought another guy, this time for 90 million afghani.



But they came back again. This time they were taking fighters from everyone with a house, and they seized me.



They put me in their prison, a very dirty place where they kept me in a room with many other guys for two days. After that they took all of us – there were about 20 of us - by car to Kandahar, and the next day to Kabul.



In Kabul, I was taken to the presidential palace – that’s the place where President Hamed Karzai sits now – and we met Mullah Qayum, a Taleban commander in northern Afghanistan.



They told us there was fighting going on in Kunduz, and that we had to go and fight in the jihad. We got given weapons - rocket-launchers and Kalashnikovs. They didn’t bother with training, since in Afghanistan even small children can work these things.



From Kabul we travelled by plane to the Dasht-e-Archi desert near Kunduz. This was the front line.



It was night-time when we arrived there, and we couldn’t see anything.



I was very dusty, and asked for some water to wash myself with. One of the fighters, or Talebs, pointed me towards a river, but told me not to use lights because the enemy was on the other bank. It was so dark that I couldn’t see anything and I fell in the water. The water was very cold, and I got wet. But I made a bed of my guns and rocket- launcher, and after saying my prayers I went to sleep.



The next day, the enemy attacked. I think they were Afghan Tajiks serving under Ahmad Shah Massoud. On our side we had some Pakistanis and Saudis, as well as Afghans.



Mullah Qayum, the commander, didn’t speak Urdu very well, and he couldn’t communicate with the Pakistanis. So he made me his translator, and after that things got better for me. I became very close to him, and he treated me like a son.



I was with the Taleban for two months and 17 days. It got very bad - we heard stories that the enemy was capturing Taleban and putting them in containers and burying them in the desert, or under water.



One day, Mullah Qayum had some news, “The Americans are coming.”



He told me, “Be smart, now. Go back home. There are going to be problems here.”



He gave me some money - 1.6 million afghani, or just over 30 dollars, and a car, and I left along with two other Talebs. They gave us seven prisoners whom we were supposed to drop off in Tahar.



But when we got there, a Taleb stopped us and told us the American bombing had started. It was too dangerous to stay on the road, so we left the car and the prisoners behind, and started walking through the mountains.



We walked for many hours, from the afternoon until the next morning. Then we came upon a car full of Hazaras from Bamian.



They asked me where I was from, and I told them Paktia. I knew that if I said I was from Helmand, they would kill me – the Hazaras hate the Taleban, because of all the people who were killed when the Taleban were in Bamian.



But these Hazaras were kind to me - they gave me a ride and some clean clothes. “If you wear white clothes and say you’re a businessman, you will be okay,” they said.



I spent two days and nights trying to get to Kabul. Once I got there, I went to the Taleban’s head office. But they accused me of deserting; they took all the money and said I had to stay there while they checked on me.



I had different plans. I went to a bus station, and got on a bus to Kandahar. Once I arrived there, I found some moneychangers who were friends of my father. They gave me money and sent me off to Helmand.



Everyone was so happy to see me: My mother cried her eyes out.



A week after I got home, I got engaged - but not to the girl for whom I had stayed on in Helmand. My family wanted me to marry my cousin. It was their decision, so I had to do it. I told them I wanted to marry someone else, but they said, “Don’t worry, you can have her too.”



But I don’t have her yet, because her family doesn’t want her to be a second wife.



It’s been almost six years since we met. She is waiting for me, and says she will kill herself if they don’t give her to me in marriage.



I am married now with a son, but I have tattooed the name of my burqa-girl on my arm. All I want is to be with her. If I can have her, I will be the biggest man in the country. I will be stronger than Karzai or anyone else.



Life is different now. I am no longer a Taleb – I am a businessman, I have shops, and I make money.



I would like the current Afghan government if it could give us security. But it can’t.



The Taleban are everywhere – they’re all over Helmand, and the government can’t do a thing about it.



I saw the Taleban kill a man in front of my house – there were 10 of them, on motorcycles. The police were there, too, but they just sat in their car until the Taleban left.



So what can this government do for me? Everything I have achieved has been through my own efforts, through personal relationships.



I am friendly with the Taleban – they know me and like me. They come to our house and ask for things.



I don’t really like them. If they are like the old Taleban, it won’t be good. I don’t want anyone to make me fight again. But if they can bring security, it will be okay.



I am not afraid of the Taleban, nor do I fear the government. The only thing I am afraid of is not having my love, the burqa girl.



IWPR has recently begun a journalism training programme in Helmand. This story was written by one of the participants.