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A show of freedom
© St. Petersburg Times KABUL, Afghanistan -- Afghanistan celebrated a glorious independence day Monday, replete with stirring speeches, a big brass band and waves of women marchers finally freed from the yoke of the Taliban. But who, or what, was it celebrating independence from? The answer to that seemingly simple question proved almost as elusive as the answer to a far more complex one: Is this tortured nation finally on the road to peace or is this quiet just a lull in 23 years of warfare? With few TVs, phones or other forms of modern communication, word spread by mouth that Monday would be a national holiday with schools, government offices and most businesses closed. Early Sunday morning, crews started stringing colored lights across the dusty, traffic choked streets of Kabul, the capital. And on Monday, Afghans excitedly told one another there would be a big celebration at the soccer stadium where the Taliban used to execute drug dealers, adulterers and others who violated its rigid interpretation of Islam. What time would the celebration start? Maybe 8 a.m. Maybe 9 a.m. No one seemed to know for sure. And what did "independence day" mean in a place that has battled invaders and conquerors throughout the centuries? "Independence from the English," one Kabul pharmacist said. "From the Russians," chimed in a barber. "I don't know but it's only for the rich anyway," a third man said.
The pharmacist was right. August 19 commemorates the signing of the Treaty of Rawalpindi, the 1919 agreement in which a war-weary Britain gave up control of Afghan foreign policy. But the confusion is understandable. According to the Geneva-based International Center for Humanitarian Reporting, celebrations became a moot point after the Taliban took over Afghanistan in 1996. In a journalists' guide written two years later, the center wrote, "Festivities in Afghanistan have taken somewhat of a downer since the Taliban poured cold water on music, kite flying and anything allegedly un-Islamic." But the Taliban, who sheltered Osama bin Laden, is gone, routed by U.S.-led forces retaliating for the September attacks against America. And despite their poverty, Afghans are trying to enjoy life again even if some are not quite clear on what they're celebrating. So early Monday morning, thousands of men, women and children began streaming toward the stadium. They came in old yellow taxis and newer Toyota Land Cruisers. Some rode bikes but most were on foot. It was a splendid day, Kabul's usual haze and air pollution temporarily blown away by a dust storm that roared through town Sunday. Under a blue sky, the stadium looked festive with brightly colored flags flying in a light breeze. But security was extraordinarily heavy. There were bomb-sniffing dogs and military jeeps with 50mm guns mounted on top. Hundreds of Afghan soldiers and Kabul police, many with rifles slung across their backs, warily eyed each incoming spectator. All bags were searched; cameras came in for particular scrutiny.
Just two days before Sept. 11, Afghans' national hero, the Northern Alliance commander Ahmed Massoud, was killed when two Arabs posing as journalists detonated a bomb disguised as a camera. Afghans have been suspicious of cameras since. "Take a picture," one guard at the stadium ordered a U.S. journalist, then quickly added, "point it at the sky, not me." By 10 a.m., the bleachers were nearly full, and the crowd roared as Afghanistan's interim president, Hamid Karzai, appeared in the VIP viewing stand. Karzai looked his usual stylish self, dressed in the traditional long white shirt and black robe. He was followed a few seconds later by Afghanistan's last king, 87-year-old Mohammed Zahir Shah, who walked with a cane but was nattily attired in shirt, tie and bomber jacket. Both men waved at the crowd. At 10:10 a.m., the festivities began. An army helicopter circling high overhead showered the stadium with what looked like green confetti; as it got closer to earth it turned out to be souvenir pieces of paper with the words "Freedom Forever" written on them. The band struck up the national anthem and a soldier bearing the green, black and red Afghan flag parachuted onto the field. Next came a contingent of Afghan army officers marching to their seats. They were a bit out of step and their rifles were old and scarred, but they looked fine in their olive uniforms with red and gold epaulets. "The new generation should remember that the freedom it has today was won by our soldiers fighting against the British 83 years ago," Karzai said as he greeted the crowd in his strong, mellifluous voice. "What you see here is the sacrifice of our people. . . . To all the people of Afghanistan I say congratulations, and I pray to Allah that there will be peace in Afghanistan forever." And then over the PA system came the voice of a female announcer, unthinkable during the time of the Taliban, introducing the first of dozens of units of marchers. There were wrestlers and tae kwon do students, tennis players and bare-chested bodybuilders, gymnasts and Olympic cyclists. Several units paused in front of the reviewing stand to perform for Karzai and other VIPs. A group of young kickboxers shattered clay pots with their bare feet, sending shards flying into the stands and the faces of several spectators, and older Afghan men in traditional garb fired off ancient muskets. It was an ear-splitting reminder of how many millions of weapons found their way into Afghanistan during 10 years of Soviet occupation and another decade of civil war. The crowd cheered lustily whenever anyone trooped by with a poster of Massoud, the Afghan hero. But it saved its most enthusiastic response for the scores of female marchers, many of them teachers and their students. It was the first time women had been allowed at an Independence Day celebration since the Taliban seized power six years ago and barred women from participation in almost all avenues of public life. Some of the younger girls were dressed in their vibrant national costume of green trousers and red velvet dresses; all women wore head scarves and modest, dark-colored clothing. But not one had on a burqa, the shapeless, face-hiding sacks that women had to wear during the years of the Taliban. As spectators pressed forward to see, crowd control at times edged toward violence. Several soldiers near the reviewing stand pulled off their belts and whacked at those who strayed too close to the marchers. But in general, a fine time seemed to be had by all. The celebration was just the right length -- it ended around 11:15 a.m. when the temperature starts to get unbearably hot. Word spread that there might be fireworks Monday night. What time would they start? At 8 p.m.? 9 p.m.? It was no big surprise that no one seemed to know. -- Susan Taylor Martin can be contacted at susan@sptimes.com
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