At home with the Taliban
While U.S. bombs dropped on his country, a Taliban official and his two wives welcomed me into their living room and talked of marriage, music and his memories of dining in the World Trade Center's starry restaurant.
By Asra Q. Nomani
Oct. 10, 2001 | ISLAMABAD, Pakistan -- Welcome to the other White House.
It sits here at the intersection of two narrow dirt lanes, pocketed with bumps and jolts, very different from the wide, tarred streets in the posh neighborhoods diplomats call home. There are no chokidars, guards, sitting outside the squat attached houses virtually atop each other. There is a tin shack, a khoka, at the corner with a sign for Al-Asif Paints on one side, sundries for sale inside, including 3-rupee packets of Pantene hair conditioner attached to each other like a necklace from the low ceiling.
The house at the corner has its name carved onto the front wall, much like many houses in this part of the world: White House, in curling Urdu script. Inside lives the No. 2 diplomat representing the Taliban government here in Pakistan. Mohammad Sohail Shaheen, burly, bearded and wearing a turban, has frequently stood at the right hand side of Mullah Abdul Salam Zaeef, the Taliban ambassador in Pakistan, as both have denounced the U.S.-led coalition's attacks on Afghanistan as an act of terrorism. Surely for many Western viewers, after Osama bin Laden, these men have represented the faces of 21st century caveman barbarism.
On Tuesday, word trickles out of confirmed civilian deaths. The latest: four Afghan United Nations workers. The first day's bombing has the Taliban claiming as many as 20 civilians have died. The Taliban spokesmen say the death of civilians in Kabul is no different than the murder of thousands in the World Trade Center. "That was terrorism. This war is a terrorist act."
What I am warned in my two visits to the home of this Taliban representative, drinking green tea with his two wives, many of his eight children trickling through, is that America may win Kabul but it won't win the war. "It will be a very long, long war. Bloodshed. Destruction. We have fought the Soviet Union for 10 years. We know." It's a grim prediction that more echoes President Bush, with his warnings of a long-fought war on terrorism, than Pakistan's president, Gen. Pervez Musharraf, who has asked for a "short, sharp" attack that will end it all quickly.
Even if the Taliban loses power, Shaheen says, they will fight as rebels against a new leader in Kabul. "They will be like somebody in a cage. We will take over the highways and provinces. They will be in a prison in Kabul. Life will not be normal. Then, one day, they will have to negotiate after destruction."
"We have thousands of caves in the mountains which cannot be destroyed by bombing," Shaheen continues. "If this problem had been solved by talks, it would have been better for America and for Afghanistan. History shows superpowers become micro powers. Look at British. Once such an empire. The sun never set on the British Empire. Now, its power is limited to an island in Europe."
He uses the kind of American colloquialism you'd expect from a retired three-star U.S. Marine. "We know war is not a picnic."
His mobile rings once while we speak. Maybe 450 civilians have died? He calls the Taliban foreign minister in Kabul. The report is false. He laughs into the phone. He relates that he has asked the 20-something foreign minister: "Are you afraid?" The response in Pashto, he says: "Hitchkulah." Never.
This is my second visit to Shaheen's house. The first time was before the bombings and I was escorted and expected. This time I arrive only with my cousin, who joins me because she too is curious to see the face of a Taliban. We stand outside, able to hear the crackle of a shortwave radio through the door that leads into the sitting room. This was where Shaheen sat during my first visit -- without a turban but rather a simple white cotton topi, hat. The room is used for male visitors, and I wonder if a meeting is in process.
I come back wondering if stepping into this private world -- under a massive attack seemingly from the entire world -- would possibly dismantle the enemy image. I've brought along a few of the souvenirs that I bought before leaving New York: three New York City skyline postcards (one for Shaheen, one for his first wife, one for his second wife), three New York City key chains (one for each of them) and a New York Police Department pen (for the second wife). When I couldn't find my pen during my first visit, she gave me one and said, "Thofa," in Urdu, gift. On the pen were images of foreign currency emblazoned with a simple word, "Euro," and I smiled at this symbol of Western capitalism from a woman literally behind purdah, the rule that separates women from men.
Next page: "I like that they can freely criticize"
