Charles Glass on US failures in Afghanistan
London Review of Books, volume 26, number 22, 18 November 2004
Kabul, since 1776 the nominal if forever ignored capital of Afghanistan,
hides itself within thousands of forbidding walls. Mounds of ancient brick
race up hillsides, remnants of the fifth-century ramparts that failed to
preserve decadent Hindu rule from Mughal conquest. Every private house and
most public buildings are set inside mud and brick enclosures that give the
city an unwelcoming air. Behind the walls, in gardens needing rain, lie
separate huts for women, for cooking, for eating and for receiving guests.
Only the shops open directly onto broken pavements, with random displays of
carpets, stationery, books, computers, cameras, jewellery and mobile phones.
The customers, like the shopkeepers, are men, most of them clothed in
traditional sharwal khameez and jaunty turbans. 'Now and then,' Robert Byron
wrote in 1933, 'a calico beehive with a window at the top flits across the
scene. This is a woman.' Contemporary Kabul is closer to Byron's description
than to a 1977 guidebook's city of 'mini-skirted schoolgirls'. The
schoolgirls are now matrons, who venture out in their beehives to shop in
the Women's Bazaar. Their mini-skirts long abandoned, they would not dare to
enter a tea house or linger in a public square.