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Taliban one YEAR ON

One year on from the Taliban's stunning return to power, Afghanistan is in crisis. With national reserves frozen in foreign banks and the Taliban struggling to morph from an insurgency to administrative force, the country is now home to what the United Nations calls the worst humanitarian crisis in the world. Those with the means –- and many without –- have fled the country, or are desperate to leave. Those that remain have found their lives shattered. Women in particular have borne the brunt of the Taliban's hardline interpretation of Islam. They are barred from travelling alone, told what to wear, and thousands have lost their jobs -– causing misery for families that depended on their incomes. With girls barred from attending secondary school, the future looks even more bleak, and the country risks losing an entire generation of female doctors, teachers, and other professions so essential for society to progress.

Kabul airport, symbol of chaotic US exit from Afghanistan

Wakil KOHSAR

KABUL (Afghanistan) - 10 August 2022 - Tens of thousands of Afghan men, women and children rushed to Kabul's airport a year ago in a desperate bid to flee the advancing Taliban, who seized power on August 15, 2021. Images of crowds storming parked planes, climbing atop aircraft and some clinging to a departing US military cargo plane as it rolled down the runway were aired in news bulletins around the world.

The Taliban's lightning offensive against government forces triggered a hasty withdrawal of US-led foreign troops, stunning the international community. The ensuing chaos was nowhere more evident than at Kabul airport as crowds of people rushed to be evacuated on any available flight out of the country.

An AFP photographer captured images of the panic that symbolised Washington's turbulent withdrawal after two decades of military intervention that began after the September 11, 2001 attacks. For days, thousands of people attempted to push through barricades set up by the Taliban, Afghan forces and US marines, who often fired in the air to push them back. Panic struck the crowd just days before the US pullout on August 31.

On August 26, a suicide bomber blew himself up not far from the entrance to the airport, killing scores of people including 13 US service members. The jihadist Islamic State group claimed the attack.

One year on, Taliban authorities gave AFP photographers access to the airport to shoot the facility and areas that were trashed last year.

The airport is now back to some kind of normalcy, with a few domestic and international flights operating. But significant support is needed for major foreign airlines to resume a full schedule from the facility. Taliban authorities have tasked an Abu Dhabi-based firm with ground handling services and security screening of passengers.

Air traffic control is the responsibility of Afghans trained by experts from Uzbekistan and Qatar. Kabul airport's return to full operations is seen as crucial to reviving Afghanistan's shattered economy.

Taliban fighters swap arms for books

By Emmanuel Peuchot and Abdullah Hasrat

VIDEO BY AREF KARIM

KABUL (Afghanistan) - 11 August 2022 - Gul Agha Jalali used to spend his nights planting bombs -- hoping to target an Afghan government soldier or, better still, a foreign serviceman.

These days, the 23-year-old Taliban member is studying English and has enrolled in a computer science course in the capital, Kabul.

"When our country was occupied by infidels, we needed bombs, mortars and guns," says Jalali, an employee at the Ministry of Transport and Civil Aviation.

Now there is a greater need for education, he told AFP. Since the Taliban swept back to power in August last year, hundreds of fighters have returned to school -- either on their own or pushed by their commanders.

The word "Taliban" actually means "students" in Arabic, and the hardline Islamist movement's name stems from the religious schools in southern Afghanistan it emerged from in the 1990s.

Most Taliban fighters were educated in these madrassas, where studies are largely limited to the Koran and other Islamic themes.

Many conservative Afghan clerics -- particularly among the Taliban -- are sceptical of more modern education, apart from subjects than can be applied practically, such as engineering or medicine.

"The world is evolving, we need technology and development," said Jalali, who planted bombs for five years but is now among a dozen Taliban studying computers at the transport ministry.

- 'Motivated mujahideen' -

The desire of fighters like Jalali to go back to school showed Afghans yearned for education, government spokesman Bilal Karimi said.

"Many motivated mujahideen who had not completed their studies reached out to educational institutions and are now studying their favourite courses," he told AFP.

But education is a hugely problematic issue in the country, with secondary school girls barred from classes since the Taliban returned to power -- and no sign of them being allowed back despite promises from some in the leadership.

While the earlier curriculum largely remains the same, studies on music and sculpture have been scrapped at schools and universities, which are suffering a paucity of teachers and lecturers following an exodus of Afghanistan's educated elite.

But some Taliban students, like Jalali, have big plans. Kabul's Muslim Institute has a student body of around 3,000 -- half of them women -- and includes some 300 Taliban fighters, many distinctive with their bushy beards and turbans.

On a recent tour, AFP saw one Taliban fighter retrieve a pistol from a locker room at the end of his lessons -- an incongruous sight in a pastel-coloured room adorned with posters of smiling co-ed students.

"When they arrive, they hand over their weapons. They don't use force or take advantage of their position," said an institute official who asked not to be named.

- Desire to study -

Amanullah Mubariz was 18 when he joined the Taliban but never gave up his desire to study.

"I applied to a university in India, but I failed my English test," said Mubariz, now 25, declining to reveal his current position in the Taliban. "That's why I enrolled here," he said, referring to the Muslim Institute.

Mohammad Sabir, in contrast, is happy to admit he works for the Taliban's intelligence agency despite also being a student at the private Dawat University.

"I resumed my studies this year after the victory of the Islamic Emirate," he says, his long hair and eyes lined with traditional kohl eyeliner peeking out from beneath a white turban.

Like Jalali, he paused his education to join the Taliban and also planted bombs and carried out ambushes with his brother in Wardak province.

All the Taliban students AFP spoke to said they wanted to use their education to help develop the country, so how do they feel about girls being deprived of that opportunity?

"Personally, as a young man, a student and a member of the Emirate, I think that they have the right to education," said Mubariz. "They can serve our country the way we are doing."

"This country needs them as much as it needs us," added Jalali.

INSIDE AFGHANISTAN'S SECRET SCHOOLS, WHERE GIRLS DEFY THE TALIBAN

text BY Jay Deshmukh, Emma Clark and Aysha Safi

PHOTO BY: daniel leal, LILLIAN SUWANRUMPHA, AHMAD SAHEL ARMAN

KABUL (Afghanistan) - 09 August 2022 - AFP - Nafeesa has discovered a great place to hide her schoolbooks from the prying eyes of her disapproving Taliban brother -- the kitchen, where Afghan men rarely venture. Hundreds of thousands of girls and young women like Nafeesa have been deprived of the chance of education since the Taliban returned to power a year ago, but their thirst for learning has not lessened.

"Boys have nothing to do in the kitchen, so I keep my books there," said Nafeesa, who attends a secret school in a village in rural eastern Afghanistan. "If my brother comes to know about this, he will beat me."

Since seizing power a year ago, the Taliban have imposed harsh restrictions on girls and women to comply with their austere vision of Islam -- effectively squeezing them out of public life. Women can no longer travel on long trips without a male relative to escort them. They have also been told to cover up with the hijab or preferably with an all-encompassing burqa -- although the Taliban's stated preference is for them to only leave home if absolutely necessary.

And, in the cruellest deprivation, secondary schools for girls in many parts of Afghanistan have not been allowed to reopen. But secret schools have sprung up in rooms of ordinary houses across the country. A team of AFP journalists visited three of these schools, interviewing students and teachers whose real names have been withheld for their safety.

- 'We want freedom' -

Decades of turmoil have played havoc with Afghanistan's education system, so Nafeesa is still studying secondary school subjects even though she is already 20. Only her mother and older sister know about it. Her brother fought for years with the Taliban against the former government and US-led forces in the mountains, returning home after their victory imbued with the hardline doctrine that says a woman's place is the home. He allows her to attend a madrassa to study the Koran in the morning, but in the afternoon she sneaks out to a clandestine classroom organised by the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA).

"We have accepted this risk, otherwise we will remain uneducated," Nafeesa said. "I want to be a doctor... We want to do something for ourselves, we want to have freedom, serve society and build our future."

When AFP visited her school, Nafeesa and nine other girls were discussing freedom of speech with their female teacher, sitting side-by-side on a carpet and taking turns reading out loud from a textbook. To get to class, they frequently leave home hours earlier, taking different routes to avoid being noticed in an area made up mostly of members of the Pashtun ethnic group, who form the bulk of the Taliban and are known for their conservative ways. If a Taliban fighter asks, the girls say they are enrolled in a tailoring workshop, and hide their schoolbooks in shopping bags or under their abaya and burqa overgarments.

They not only take risks, but also make sacrifices -- Nafeesa's sister dropped out of school to limit any suspicions her brother might have.

- No justification in Islam -

Religious scholars say there is no justification in Islam for the ban on girls' secondary school education and, a year since taking power, the Taliban still insist classes will be allowed to resume. But the issue has split the movement, with several sources telling AFP a hardline faction that advises supreme leader Hibatullah Akhundzada opposed any girls' schooling -- or at best, wanted it limited to religious studies and practical classes such as cooking and needlework.

The official line, however, remains that it is just a "technical issue" and classes will resume once a curriculum based on Islamic rules is defined. Primary girls still go to school and, for now at least, young women can attend university -- although lectures are segregated and some subjects cut because of a shortage of female teachers. Without a secondary school certificate, however, teenage girls will not be able to sit university entrance exams, so this current crop of tertiary female students could be the country's last for the foreseeable future.

"Education is an inalienable right in Islam for both men and women," scholar Abdul Bari Madani told AFP. "If this ban continues, Afghanistan will return to the medieval age... an entire generation of girls will be buried."

- Lost generation -

It is this fear of a lost generation that spurred teacher Tamkin to convert her home in Kabul into a school. The 40-year-old was almost lost herself, having been forced to stop studying during the Taliban's first stint in power, from 1996 to 2001, when all girls' schooling was banned. It took years of self-study for Tamkin to qualify as a teacher, only for her to lose her job at the education ministry when the Taliban returned last year.

"I didn't want these girls to be like me," she told AFP, tears rolling down her cheeks. "They should have a better future."

With the support of her husband, Tamkin first turned a storeroom into a class. Then she sold a family cow to raise funds for textbooks, as most of her girls came from poor families and couldn't afford their own. Today, she teaches English and science to about 25 eager students. On a rainy day recently, the girls trickled into her classroom for a biology lesson.

"I just want to study. It doesn't matter what the place is like," said Narwan, who should be in grade 12, sitting in a room packed with girls of all ages.

Behind her, a poster on a wall urges students to be considerate: "Tongue has no bones, but it is so strong that it can break the heart, so be careful of your words." Such consideration by her neighbours has helped Tamkin keep the school's real purpose hidden.

"The Taliban have asked several times 'what's going on here?' I have told the neighbours to say it's a madrassa," Tamkin said. Seventeen-year-old Maliha believes firmly the day will come when the Taliban will no longer be in power. "Then we will put our knowledge to good use," she said.

- 'Not afraid of Taliban' -

On the outskirts of Kabul, in a maze of mud houses, Laila is another teacher running underground classes. Looking at her daughter's face after the planned reopening of secondary schools was cancelled, she knew she had to do something.

"If my daughter was crying, then the daughters of other parents must also be crying," the 38-year-old said.

About a dozen girls gather two days a week at Laila's house, which has a courtyard and a garden where she grows vegetables and fruit. The classroom has a wide window opening to the garden, and girls with textbooks kept in blue plastic folders sit on a carpet -- happy and cheerful, studying together.

As the class begins, one by one they read out the answers to their homework. "We are not afraid of the Taliban," said student Kawsar, 18. "If they say anything, we will fight it out but continue to study."

But the right to study is not the only aim for some Afghan girls and women -- who are all too frequently married off into abusive or restrictive relationships. Zahra, who attends a secret school in eastern Afghanistan, was married at 14 and now lives with in-laws who oppose the idea of her attending classes. She takes sleeping pills to fight her anxiety -- worried her husband's family will force him to make her stay home.

"I tell them I'm going to the local bazaar and come here," said Zahra of her secret school. For her, she says, it is the only way to make friends.

FACES OF TALIBAN

BY DANIEL LEAl

PHOTO ESSAY

'Happy that infidels are out': Afghan Taliban fighters

KANDAHAR (Kandahar, Afghanistan) - 09 August 2022 - The Taliban are a hardline Islamist movement that originated in Afghanistan's southern province of Kandahar in the 1990s; They take their name from "talib", the Arabic word for student -- a reference to the Islamic colleges or madrassas their cadres emerged from. Following a lightning offensive that pushed US-led forces out after 20 years of military presence, the group made a stunning return to power on August 15 last year.

Led by a reclusive cleric named Hibatullah Akhundzada, the Taliban are consolidating their power on the back of tens of thousands of fighters who fought the deadly insurgency. AFP took a series of portraits of Taliban fighters in Kandahar, the movement's power centre, and also in the capital, Kabul.

"I'm happy that the infidels are out and the mujahideen (fighters) have established their rule," said fighter Sharifullah Khobib, 22, from Kandahar.

Carrying an AK-47 and dressed in a traditional shalwar kameez and black turban, the fighter was happy that an "Islamic government was back in power". Several fighters said that Afghanistan was now safe for the first time in decades.

"I'm a military man and I can say that no Afghan is now being killed, which means everyone is safe," said Mohammad Waleed, 30, a guard at a Shiite mosque in Kabul.

Islamic State jihadists have claimed several attacks on minority groups, including targeting Shiite mosques since the Taliban takeover. Many fighters deployed in Kabul come from further afield, but primarily the Pashtun ethnic group form the bulk of the movement's cadre. Most have studied in Sunni madrassas in Pakistan, and for them, establishing a system based on sharia has been the biggest achievement of the war.

"All men and women can now live freely across Afghanistan," said fighter Niamatullah, 27.

The Taliban's austere interpretation of sharia has put severe restrictions on Afghan women, squeezing them out of public life, many government jobs and education. But for the fighters, their only regret is the government is still not recognised internationally.

"While we are happy to have a new Islamic government, it is sad the world has still not recognised us," said Matiullah Qureshi, 22, as he took his position at a checkpoint in Kandahar.

faces of AFGHAN WOMEN

by LILLIAN SUWANRUMPHA

PHOTO ESSAY

The women desperate to work in Taliban-ruled Afghanistan

Herat (Herat province, Afghanistan) - 09 August 2022 - Since their takeover a year ago, the Taliban have squeezed Afghan women out of public life, imposing suffocating restrictions on where they can work, how they can travel, and what they can wear. There is hardly a woman in the country who has not lost a male relative in successive wars, while many of their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers have also lost their jobs or seen their income shattered as a result of a deepening economic crisis.

AFP took a series of portraits of women in major cities -- Kabul, Herat and Kandahar -- who are trying to keep households together by whatever means they can.

"During these hard times, it is my job that has made me happy," 40-year-old baker Shapari told AFP. "My husband is jobless, and staying at home. I am able to find food for my children."

Women have been barred from most government employment -- or had their salaries slashed and told to stay at home. They are often also first to be sacked from struggling private businesses -- particularly those unable to segregate the workplace in line with Taliban rules. Some jobs remain open, though women face far steeper obstacles than male colleagues.

- 'Queen of the honey bees' -

Tahmina Usmani, 23, is one of a few women journalists who have been able to continue working in the sector. In order to circumvent a Taliban order to cover their faces while on the air, she and others at Afghanistan's news broadcaster TOLOnews wear a Covid face mask.

"I was able to join TOLOnews and be the voice for women in Afghanistan, which makes me feel great," she said.

Ghuncha Gul Karimi, another woman photographed by AFP, grew her beekeeping business to produce honey for sale after her husband left the country.

"I've taken up two extra jobs and bought a motorcycle to drive myself from the honey farm and back," she said. "I am determined to become the queen of honey bees."

Even before the Taliban's return to power, Afghanistan was a deeply conservative, patriarchal country with progress in women's rights limited largely to major cities. Women generally cover their hair with scarves, while the burqa –- mandatory for all women under the Taliban's first regime, from 1996 to 2001 –- continued to be widely worn, particularly outside the capital Kabul.

Earlier this year, the religious police ordered women to cover themselves completely in public, preferably including their faces.