Kabul
We remembered on the news seeing airline boarding bridges sagging against the last planes to leave Kabul, swamped by hordes of desperate Afghans trying to escape the Taliban as they made their final assault on the capital. We also remembered huge human crushes, people up against the airport wall handing babies up to those sat astride it, then the babies passed down to those lucky enough to be on the inside. A suicide bomber then killed over 180 people. Hard to believe then that we were landing at the very same airport less than 4 years since those nightmare scenes unfolded….
The majority of course had no option but to remain, and in that sense Kabul was as we’d expected – a militarised city with checkpoints everywhere, but at least stable with a sense of normal life continuing, albeit heavily restricted for many. It was the extent of things that surprised us though; The miles of huge concrete walls topped with razor wire, reminiscent of Berlin in the 60s. The many Taliban soldiers on the streets – pretty easily spotted with distinctive large beards, heavy scarves around the head and a certain superior swagger. The proliferation of automatic weapons, from old Soviet Kalashnikovs to much newer US made rifles captured from the Afghan army. The heavy fortification of every public building, ministry or government office. The cylindrical gun posts dotted around the city, many with peeping rifle muzzles glinting in the sunlight. Yet for all that there’s an eerie sense of calm that’s difficult to describe. For the tourist at least, there’s no real edge here – we rarely felt threatened and often engaged with Taliban fighters themselves, even sharing a joke or two. Equally, the city is buzzing. Though the economy may have tanked, people still have to have a living – markets are packed, streets still throng with over-eager traffic, restaurants aplenty create streets thick with charring kebab smoke – in some senses it’s a very typical Central Asian city…
Kabul
Roll up, roll up – 3 shots for a pound
Unusually, we opted to travel around Afghanistan with a local firm. We much prefer to travel independently, but the logistic of doing so here were too complex, plus this was one place where local knowledge seemed not only very useful but maybe a life-saver too. After dealing with brusque Taliban officials at immigration (being on the receiving end of barked orders accompanied by wide grinning smiles was a little disconcerting), we met up with our guide for the next 2 weeks – Jalal – a taciturn and kind young civil engineer working in tourism to make ends meet.
Most tourists to Afghanistan opt to wear local dress as a mark of respect and to better fit in. We wanted to do the same so went shopping for a shalwar kameez for me and an abaya for Helen. Mine was tailored in less than 2 hours – a simple but ‘elegant’ olive green number. The shirt part was fine, but the trousers are bizarre – a waist line approaching two metres wide that has to be gathered up to fit using a length of elastic. Very self conscious, I felt like a khaki clown for a few hours. Helen bought an off-the-peg bluey grey effort from the market with sparkling bead detailing that catches the light and provides a personalised disco effect.
Interestingly, shop-window dummies here either have no head or have heads totally covered. It’s a common Islamic tenet that the depiction of the human face is not de rigueur, but here it’s taken to the extreme – most have heads smothered in tin foil or bin liners, some have wraps of dark material. They look like non-protesting torture victims.
We spent our time sight-seeing in a variety of ways. A hot stroll around the Mandawi bazaars and those around the city bridges afforded a great opportunity to meet local Afghans, much like we’ve done in India and Pakistan. The same sense of pride in sharing their small patch of earth with a visitor from overseas is the same here. Robust handshakes, genuine welcomes, complements on being English (“Englestan – ah!!”), requests for photo snaps with neighbours and colleagues – all spontaneous and heartfelt. We barely avoided knee-capping through collisions with the local means of goods transportation – an army of wheel-barrowists barging and shouting their way through narrow alleys and slow moving stall shoppers, seemingly engaged in a race with their co-workers. Then, panic – traders scrambling to scoop up their carpets full of shoes or toys as news spreads that the Taliban are near. The penalties for unlicensed sales are severe, as you might expect.
Mandawi market
Mandawi market
Barrow boys on a break from breaking legs
The bird market was not for the faint of heart. Animals are simply a commodity like any other and stored in cages where space to move is the least of considerations. A young lad proudly showed me his large male chicken (note self-restraint there) and seemed surprised when I declined his offer to buy it.
Kabul bird market
…yellow bag contains parrots…
We visited the final resting place of the first Mughal emperor, Babur, in the gardens named after him (the Bagh e Babur). He’s kept in a beautifully simple white marble enclosure in a tomb pock-marked with bullets from the intense fighting here in the Afghan civil war. Much of the park and its buildings were destroyed then, but the Aga Khan foundation has recently rebuilt it all. Now expensively restored palaces are visited by lonesome tourist parties, the very occasional international conference and nobody else. As with all gardens and parks, no women or girls are allowed here and their absence is almost tangible. Helen felt self conscious and stared at here and in other green spaces, even with the ‘privilege’ of being a ‘welcome’ foreign woman. This is an area where we’re both obviously uncomfortable. We have to eat in ‘family rooms’ in restaurants, segregated and totally separate areas designed to get women away from the main dining areas frequented exclusively by men. It’s a form of apartheid we naturally cannot abide, but suffer to protect our hosts. We asked Jalal his thoughts on this. At first he was understandably reluctant to comment, but in an unguarded moment confided his frustration on this and many other restrictions. Any public hint of dissention however, is very likely to get you arrested.
New gear in Babur Gardens
Babur’s bullet ridden tomb
We drove up to Bibi Mahroo hill, a viewpoint above the city and saw the enormous Taliban flag, the biggest in Afghanistan. It flies next to a newly built military compound so is naturally surrounded by razor wire. It also overlooks a disused swimming pool where regular executions took place during the Soviet invasion in the 80’s. Families used to frequent the place on an evening, but no more…. A cheery spot indeed. We nearly got into trouble taking photos of the Balar Hissar fortress, a huge edifice turned into another Taliban stronghold. Snapping away from a distance, several men appeared on the ramparts looking in our direction. Jalal quickly hustled us back into the car.
The Balar Hissar, Kabul
One of the most poignant places was the Shaki Shrine, a pretty Shia-affiliated mosque with 6 blue domes, alledgedy one of the resting places of the cloak of Mohammed on its way to Kandahar. Alas no non-muslims allowed inside, but at least it allows humans of both sexes to visit and consequently had a much nicer feeling than anywhere else in the city. Families could be here together and many were relaxing on rugs drinking tea, as we did too, watching the light fade and the neon green lights illuminate the gorgeous blue tiles. Security was extremely tight to get in and understandably so. In 2018 a suicide bomber from Islamic State detonated a huge bomb just outside killing 33 people and maiming many more. Islamic State, like the Taliban, are Sunni muslims and abhors what it sees as a very ‘un-muslim’ branch of Islam It would have been much worse were it not for a security guard who saw the danger and bear-hugged the perpetrator as the bomb went off. Quite rightly, he’s now interred in special shrine of his own in the grounds.
Shaki Shrine, Kabul
Equally poignant was a little known cemetery in the middle of the city, funded by the British government. It houses grave markings of soldiers from the first and second Anglo-Afghan wars in the 19th Century (Kabul is Great Game territory par excellence), but also plaques commemorating recent British casualties from 2001 to 2014. It was an oasis of calm in the otherwise noisy, busy city. We had tea and cake on the grass with the caretaker and his pet kowk (partridge) and an hour or so of reflection.
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of all though, was the existence of the ‘wedding hall’. In a town dominated by wire and walls there are 20 or so bright white buildings built solely to house wedding ceremonies and celebrations. We noticed them on arrival as many are near the airport. At night they illuminate the sky with an intense electric bulb glow that can been seen for miles. Its like Tivoli Gardens had a dirty affair with Las Vegas and produced a brood of mutant offspring. We went to look at one and the manager kindly showed us around the grand hall, a cacophonous space purely for women (and the groom) with more bling than you could shake a stick at. We were made to sit on the stage on a white chaise longue and have our pictures taken. A real bride turned up. She was made to wait in a car with relatives whilst the staff prepared the fireworks – then to sparkles and bangs and very modern drone footage she was driven through a set of large circular illuminated horns and parked up for another twenty minutes whilst the other guests arrived.
A typical Kabul ‘wedding hall’
Kabul is a very unlovely, but fascinating city. To be honest, we couldn’t decide whether we liked it or not. Security issues, segregation, aggressive & grabbing street kids, heat and noise do not necessarily make for everyone’s dream destination. It somehow feels both alien and familiar, intruiging and frustrating. But we met great people, shopped on Chicken Street (Afghan rug bought with long, protracted and fun bargaining) and now feel back in Central Asia proper. It would have felt wrong to have started our Afghanistan trip anywhere else.
Simon (19th May 2025)
Fabulous photos, but pleased you are out of there in a safer place. XX
It was safe enough, but bloody hard work at times as you’ll see from the other posts. We needed a good rest afterwards.
Sounds fascinating. Loving the new threads!
I know – snazzy eh? We gave them away when we left. They won’t be missed…..
I knew reading this you were safe but still I felt worried a little for you. You continue to push on and explore the world unlike most others. I remain in awe but know it’s definitely something I’d never do! I agree with Claire…nice threads.
Thanks Alison – glad to step out of those togs after 12 days though I can tell you! No need to worry about safety there (though we can understand people’s concerns of course)
Sounds fascinating and totally get the mixed feelings
Strange place, glad you moved on