The mood inside the bus is grave. It is just before 3am. The passengers — burdened with suitcases, cardboard boxes, cloth bundles and flasks of green tea — have the air of prisoners of war being transported to an uncertain fate.
”When you’re on the bus, you don’t talk with the people you don’t know in case they’re with the Taliban,” said 19-year-old Asadullah, an electronic spare parts dealer who, like many Afghans, uses only one name.
Asadullah and his fellow 55 passengers are taking a ride along the 483km highway that many believe is the most dangerous stretch of road on the planet. Linking Kandahar and Kabul — Afghanistan’s two largest and most economically vital cities – and completed almost five years ago, the road was meant to open a gateway to economic development and improve the quality of life for Afghans.
The United States State Department touted the $190-million project as ”the most visible sign of the US’s post-war reconstruction” in Afghanistan. But today the road is a symbol of instability across the country, the failure of government and international security forces to maintain law and order, and the increasing presence of the Taliban.
Government and military officials say insurgents and bandits regularly pull travellers from their vehicles, murdering or kidnapping them for ransom. Corrupt government security forces seek bribes and collaborate with insurgents and robbers. Roadside bombs frequently target Afghan police and military patrols, along with Nato convoys. No one in an official capacity can even quantify the violence.
”I have to take these risks,” said Asadullah, who makes the treacherous journey between Kabul and Kandahar once a month. ”I have to make money to buy food for my family.”
Afghans unable to afford the $100 one-way airfare between Kabul and Kandahar pay an average of $6 for the bus ride. They hope the bus will be safer than travelling in private vehicles, which are favoured targets of the Taliban and highwaymen.
Responsibility for security along the highway was initially handed to Afghanistan’s national police, but shortages of men and weaponry and the recent increase in violence along the road have forced the government to deploy military units as reinforcements. The road is littered with burned-out green police pick-up trucks, 4×4 vehicles, Nato supply trucks and demolished bridges.
General Abdul Alim Kohistani, the regional police commander who oversees the territory, said he has 180 men to man the 14 checkpoints along the route. He added that he needs at least 320 more officers and heavier firepower to provide adequate security.
”The Taliban has RPGs [rocket propelled grenades] and mortars. How can we fight them when we only have PKs, AK-47s, and fewer men?” Kohistani asked, referring to the machine guns and rifles his men carry. The army now has a base near the midpoint between Kabul and Kandahar and has established 15 checkpoints with at least 40 to 50 soldiers at each one.
Defence ministry spokesperson General Zaher Azimi said manning checkpoints on the highway is a policing job and the army is already hard-pressed with other duties. But the military has no alternative because ”instability is increasing day-by-day”. While careful not to criticise the police force, Azimi says if he were in charge of security along the highway he would ”pursue the insurgents into the surrounding areas off the road to capture or push them as far back as possible”.
Faizullah, president of Abduli International Transport, said Taliban operatives regularly call his office and ask who has bought tickets. ”They’re looking for foreigners and people working with the government,” Faizullah said. ”We tell them we only sell tickets to normal Afghan civilians.” That doesn’t prevent the Taliban from frequently stopping and boarding buses along the highway, according to drivers and passengers.
”They search and question everyone on the bus,” said driver Agha Mohammed. ”Sometimes they take two or three people off.” Drivers tend to hurtle their buses down the narrow two-lane road, rarely voluntarily stopping for passengers. Despite their efforts to keep moving, the drivers said they have no choice when the Taliban appear.
”I must stop or they’ll start shooting,” said 34-year-old Toryalai, who drives between Kabul and Kandahar four times a week for the Abduli bus line and earns the equivalent of about $140 a month.
In another show of force, the Taliban have coerced cellphone companies to shut down their signals along the highway at night after fulfilling threats to start destroying communication towers in the region, according to an employee of one of the firms, Roshan.
In a sandy, pockmarked terminal in Kabul later that morning, the relieved group disembarks. ”It was a good trip,” says Abdul Nabi, a trader who was visiting family. ”We arrived in one piece.” —