Living on the edge in Kabul: An Indian story

On Saturday, the media reported that Judith D’Souza, an Indian citizen based in Kolkata who was working with the Agha Khan Development Network in Kabul, had been kidnapped. I didn’t know her, but I know so many like her (including myself) who are known as expats, working in several parts of the country. I have been in and out of Afghanistan since 2004. Not completely aware of the reality of Afghanistan, I realised the dangers when my first assignment was delayed due to security reasons, as no UN consultants were being allowed into the country.

Two months later I was in Kabul and installed in a UN guesthouse on Flower Street. As a non-family station, there were six men and women in the guesthouse, working for different outfits. At a security briefing I was told I could ride only in UN vehicles and not walk the streets. I was given a walkie-talkie and had to call in every evening at 7 pm. Kabul was stark. After three decades of conflict and war there was little that wasn’t destroyed.  Buildings had bullet holes, roads were broken and the landscape was brown.

Water and electricity were in short supply. But, the March skies were blue and the sun shone brightly. The people were lovely. They like Indians, Bollywood and the diversity of India. Many spoke Urdu, as during the Soviet occupation from 1979-89 many had sought refuge in Pakistan. I felt very safe and ventured out of the guesthouse early mornings to the forbidden streets and made friends with shopkeepers selling dry fruits.

They were curious about my life, as I was about theirs. I was offered sabz chai (green tea), naan, walnuts, cheese and honey. I watched the naan makers. I took photographs. Back in India, I couldn’t get Afghanistan out of my mind. In March 2006, I was again in Kabul, on a three-month assignment to train Afghan journalists. It turned into a six-month stay. My love for the country deepened. There were security concerns, but the battles were being fought in the southern and eastern parts of the country.I had access to a car and driver and visited local market. We took trips to Istalif, the hill town about 40 km north of Kabul.

The expat friends who worked in embassies were less free than me and as they couldn’t visit me. So I visited them. I felt sorry they couldn’t experience the Afghanistan I was experiencing. There was an incident during my stay when there was shooting, looting and a three-day curfew was declared. I returned many times to Afghanistan on different assignments with international and Afghan NGOs. Family and friends, in and out of India, would ask me: Is it safe? Are you not scared?

These questions were natural as the media reported violence and conflict out of Afghanistan. Tired of this, in 2006, in Kabul, I started a blog called Letter from Afghanistan to write about things other than war. In the past few years, the security situation has worsened.  Some of this is due to the withdrawal of international troops in 2014.  The economy has shrunk, unemployment is high, with international donors moving out or reducing investments.

On and off the streets, the word is that, besides the Taliban, there are insurgents and common criminals who have made it a profession to use kidnapping and petty theft as a means of livelihood. Morale is low. In April this year, I was in Kabul with an international NGO. I could only ride in a car with a security guard and driver.

The security measures in the guesthouse and office (in the same complex) were extreme. I wasn’t allowed to visit my Afghan friends’ homes (unless the NGO security team went ahead and cleared it). I felt this was an imposition on my friends and invited them to visit me. These restrictions conflicted with my fearless and free spirit. But I accepted them as a necessary part of my contract, and didn’t want to be a liability to the organisation.

I choose to work in Afghanistan despite the known and unknown dangers. If Afghans live with this threat to their lives, day in and out, I can too. My life in Kabul is privileged — living in a relatively secure environment, riding in secure vehicles and not having to be in public places, as Afghans are. And, if the situation gets really bad, I can get on a flight and come home. But most Afghans can’t.