Casting the first stone

IT began as a tawdry affair

IT began as a tawdry affair. It ended with her waist deep in a pit and him bound hand and foot about two yards away, while a crowd of strangers hurled stones until both were bruised, blood stained and dead.

What turned a common case of adultery into a cruel tragedy was the arrival of the ultra fundamentalist Islamic movement called the Taliban, which imposed its harshest punishment on Turiolay, a motorcycle salesman, and Nurbibi, a housewife and mother.

Tracking down the site of the couple's death was easy enough. Mullah Mohammad Hassan, governor of Kandahar, named the ground beside the Id Gah mosque as the place where the stoning took place in August, the third since the Taliban took power two years ago.

The appearance of foreigners soon attracted a crowd. They willingly pointed to the pile of stones which still lay where Turiolay had died and the slight indentation in the ground where Nurbibi's pit was dug. "He wasn't blindfolded. His hands were tied behind his back," recalled Rahmatullah (26), who witnessed the execution. A mullah pronounced some words which we couldn't hear. Then the Taliban threw the first stones. After that ordinary people joined in.

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A crowd of several thousand stood in the blazing sun to watch the grim scene. Mohammad Karim proudly admitted to having thrown stones. With evident gusto he re-enacted the scene picking a stone from the ground and hurling it down again with force. "We aimed below the face," he said, "but, no, I didn't feel sorry for them. I was happy to see Sharia law being implemented. We have to punish this sort of thing.

Witnesses said it took seven stones to finish the man off his partner lasted longer. Members of her family were ordered to be there. After several stones had crushed her deep into the pit, her 17 year old son was asked to come forward, lift her blood stained veil, and check if she was dead. He cried as he obeyed the order, reporting that his mother was still alive.

At that point one of the Taliban finished off the judicial proceedings by lifting a boulder and dropping it on the woman's head.

Since no one seemed sure of the details of the crime, we resolved to find the couple's homes. In a poor area of central Kandahar, a small boy led us between mud brick walls along a winding path beside an open sewer. The path opened up to a wide area of ruins, the results of carpet bombing by the Russians in 1986. On the edge of this wasteland was a wooden door.

An elderly woman came out, and was starting to answer questions when two members of the Taliban appeared, attracted by the chattering crowd of curious neighhours and children. They ordered her inside, and told us to leave. "Pick up stones," our interpreter heard one of the Taliban tell the crowd. It could have been unpleasant if we had not decided to counter attack, warning the young Taliban that the governor of Kandahar had advised us of the case. He never gave the order for the crowd to throw their stones, though as we beat our retreat a few children let fly regardless. Fortunately their aim was poor.

The interpreter went back next morning, unaccompanied by foreigners. Dressed in typical Kandahari clothes, he was able to uncover the pathetic background to the execution. Turiolay was about 38 when he died. He spent his life selling motorcycles in a roadside market less than 50 yards from the stoning ground. Nurbibi was his step mother. His father married her around IS years ago after his first wife died. He died a few years later himself and Nurbibi, then a widow in her 20s, carried on living in the family home.

Turiolay's wife, Nazaneen, told the interpreter that she saw her husband and Nurbibi develop an intimate relationship, though it took time for her to realise it was physical. Like many who have been betrayed, she blamed the other woman. "Turiolay was not in love" she claimed, "but something inside them forced them together". She insisted on speaking round a half open door rather than coming into the street. She wore a red veil and a red sweater but kept her eyes uncovered.

A cousin described Turiolay as "a good Muslim who prayed in the mosque five times a day and observed the fasts. Unfortunately, Satan cheated him and made him resort to this relationship."

The affair lasted a number of years, and might have gone on longer if the Taliban had not come to power. By then the two sons Nurbibi had had by Turiolay's father were in their teens. Influenced by Taliban thinking, they resolved to denounce their mother.

Under Islamic law, four witnesses are needed to prove adultery. The boys suggested to the Taliban that they hide on a neighbour's roof. From this vantage point one summer night they watched Turiolay and Nurbibi on their own flat roof coupling under the stars. Caught in flagrante, the adulterous pair had no defence, and after a month in prison they were taken out to die.

Gulolai, the motorcycle salesman's 12 year old daughter and the oldest of the eight children he had with Nazaneen, said she saw her father being stoned. I was sitting on top of a lorry. All I did was cry," she said before bursting into tears again and running into the house.

How the wounded wife felt once Turiolay was dead was not entirely clear, though her laconic tone left two broad hints. She had stayed away from her husband's stoning, and she told the interpreter she could not give him a photo of her dead husband. "The only one I possess is a tiny one on an identity card he had during the Mojahedin struggle against the Russians." She produced the photo briefly. "The children often look at it," she said softly.

The interpreter could not locate the boys who denounced their mother.