Disguised in burqas, MARY FITZGERALDand BRENDA FITZSIMONStravel through a scarred landscape firmly in the grip of Nato's enemies
THE ROADS that lead south out of Kabul are considered the most dangerous in Afghanistan. No matter what route you take, you have to pass through either Logar or Wardak, the two provinces known collectively as the gates to Kabul.
Both have been staging grounds for audacious insurgent attacks on the capital and on military convoys travelling along the highway that connects Kabul to Kandahar in the far south of the country.
Irish Timesphotographer Brenda Fitzsimons and I depart Kabul shortly after dawn, pulling the blue pleated burqas we purchased in the city's labyrinthine bazaar down over our faces as our vehicle leaves a residential compound on the outskirts of the city.
The burqas are essential for our journey to meet with insurgents operating out of Paktia, one of the provinces in southeastern Afghanistan which border Waziristan, a rugged tribal region of Pakistan where Taliban factions and assorted groups of militants including al-Qaeda have sheltered since 2001.
No one, not the Afghan National Army nor the Taliban who roam the area on motorbikes setting up impromptu checkpoints, will dare ask a woman to lift her burqa, we are told. This proves true – even when we are stopped by Kalashnikov-toting Afghan soldiers manning a checkpoint on the outer edges of Kabul, our vehicle is waved on without question after they catch a glimpse of the two burqa-clad figures in the back seat.
The route we take is not the highway to Kandahar, lined with burnt-out trucks and pocked with craters from roadside bombs and rocket attacks, but another road that passes through Logar and then on to Gardez, the main town in Paktia some 80 miles away.
Soon we come across a line of vehicles that have pulled off to the edge of the road, a sign that a Nato military convoy is approaching in the opposite direction. We pull up behind and wait as some 20 beige armoured vehicles bristling with weapons and antennae stream past on their way to Kabul.
The road, well paved as a result of reconstruction funds, winds its way through a jagged range of dun-coloured mountains and wide, arid valley floors dotted with scrub. Nomads known as Kuchis herd sheep and camels along well-worn trails and paths, the women’s billowing headscarves dazzling bolts of colour against the bleak landscape. As we pass through a string of nondescript villages lined with dilapidated houses, there is little to suggest obvious danger.
But here in Logar, as in several provinces south of Kabul, the Taliban direct something akin to a shadow government. They police roads, collect taxes and run courts dispensing their own rudimentary – and often brutal – form of sharia-based justice. The Taliban now have a strong presence in all seven of Logar’s districts, locals say, including outright control of four of them.
In other nearby provinces such as Ghazni, this parallel government even issues separate ID cards for what the Taliban refer to as their Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. Logar and Paktia also come under the aegis of the infamous al-Qaeda-linked Haqqani network which operates out of neighbouring Waziristan.
Jalaluddin Haqqani, a hero of the jihad against the Soviets who later threw in his lot with the Taliban, runs, along with his son Sirajuddin, several training bases and madrassas in Waziristan from where they orchestrate insurgent strikes in Afghanistan’s southeastern provinces. His connections with Osama Bin Laden and other al-Qaeda figures date back to the war against the Soviets in the 1980s.
The Haqqani network has been blamed for several attacks in Kabul, including a car bombing at the Indian embassy last year and a daring series of raids on government targets by suicide bombers and gunmen on February 11th. The group is also believed to be behind several kidnappings of foreigners in the region.
As we drive through mountain passes more than 3,000m high and deeper into Paktia province, our two guides, who both hail from the area, point out some interesting sights along the way. A gargantuan US military base rises out of the dusty horizon, its heavily fortified perimeter walls bracketed by high watchtowers. It is perhaps telling, however, that aside from the convoy that passes us close to Kabul, we come across no other Nato troops during our journey. In one village, we see a large house that has collapsed on itself, the result, we are told, of a US air strike in 2001.The building was once occupied by al-Qaeda’s second in command, Ayman al Zawahiri. At different points along the route our attention is directed to lookout posts on mountain ridges. The positions are occupied by Afghan police by day, we are told, but by nightfall they have left and the Taliban, lugging rocket-propelled grenade launchers and AK-47s over their shoulders, emerge from houses in surrounding villages and hillsides and take over.
Many locals say the Taliban are the real power in the area, and that authorities are fighting a losing battle.
In 2006, the governor of the province Hakim Taniwal was killed by a suicide bomber as he left his office in Gardez.
But now and then the Afghan authorities strike back.
On Friday night Afghan police in one corner of Paktia claimed a small victory. More than 10 Taliban fighters were killed in a military operation that included Nato air strikes after an attack on government offices in a district called Ahmad Khel.
It is no surprise, given its location, that Paktia is a main traffic point for insurgents, weapons and supplies crossing back and forth from Pakistan.
And it is no stranger to fighting. In March 2002, the fiercest engagement of the war to dislodge the remnants of al-Qaeda in Afghanistan took place in the mountainous area of Shah-i-Kot close to Gardez. After weeks of fighting, the remaining al-Qaeda members fled across the border.
The insurgents we met in Paktia were clear – they will not rest until Nato-led forces leave the country.
And their battle is one that no one expects to be over soon.