A resurgent Taliban has overshadowed an Afghan national holiday, writes MARY FITZGERALDin Kabul
MUBARAK SHAH lost his right leg fighting the Soviets on the vast Shomali plains that lie just north of Kabul.
More than two decades later he lives with his family in a derelict cinema in the Afghan capital, struggling to eke out even the most meagre existence. “I was a proud mujahid,” he says, balancing on a solitary crutch. “But life has not been good since.”
Mubarak travelled yesterday to the centre of Kabul for the annual celebration of what is often referred to as Mujahideen Day, a national holiday to mark the collapse of the Soviet-backed regime in Afghanistan on April 28th, 1992. Except this year, for the first time in 16 years, the only celebrations took place behind closed doors.
The government abruptly cancelled all public events held to celebrate the holiday, including the traditional parade to Kabul’s Ghazi stadium, opting instead for a small ceremony inside the heavily fortified presidential palace compound.
Although officials insisted the usual festivities were abandoned so that monies could be used instead to help victims of a recent earthquake in eastern Afghanistan, speculation had been mounting that militants might choose the day to launch an attack.
Last year the Taliban carried out an audacious and co-ordinated strike on the annual Mujahideen Day parade which was widely considered to be an assassination attempt on President Hamid Karzai.
Three people died in that attack, including a parliamentarian sitting only metres away from Karzai.
Hundreds of others, including Afghan troops and police, fled after shots were fired from the third floor of a nearby hotel while Karzai and other dignitaries were singing the national anthem.
Claiming responsibility, the Taliban boasted that they had demonstrated they could now strike right in the heart of the capital.
A year on, Kabul remains on tenterhooks as a resurgent Taliban creeps ever closer.
Yesterday militants fired rockets at a Nato base on its outskirts, wounding three French soldiers who were preparing to head out in a convoy. In another incident, a dozen Taliban fighters and one Afghan police officer died in clashes close to the city.
Kabul’s usually choked streets were all but deserted, except for the thousands of police and soldiers who have been patrolling the capital and manning checkpoints in the run-up to the annual holiday.
“This is a very important day so security has to be tight,” said Abdel Wahid, a police officer from the city who was deployed close to the stadium.
He kept a close eye on the small knots of would-be spectators, like Mubarak and his friend Gulam Sakhi, a tall wiry man in faded combat jacket and traditional pakul hat who also lost a leg in the war against the Soviets. They milled around in front of the Eid Gah mosque directly across from the parade viewing stand which had been decked in the colours of the Afghan flag.
Nearby was one of several large portraits of Ahmed Shah Massood, the famous guerrilla leader assassinated in 2001, to be found hanging on buildings in Kabul.
“It is nearly 30 years since I was wounded and left disabled,” said Gulam.
“The sacrifice was worth it but sometimes it feels like our sacrifice is not really appreciated. Many of those now in government were living outside Afghanistan when we were fighting the Soviets but look at the difference between the lives they lead and the difficulties we face.”
Gulbar Khan, a labourer from Ghazni, one of the provinces where the Taliban have strengthened their hand in recent months, was disappointed to find the parade had been cancelled.
“When I look at the situation in this country now and remember it 20 years ago, it is getting worse and worse every day,” he said.
“The reason is the presence of foreigners here – that is what is causing the insurgency. The only solution is for us Afghans to come together and sort it out ourselves.”