LIFE UNDER THE TALIBAN Introduction by David Turnley In 1996, I went to Afghanistan to undertake a photo essay about life under the Taliban. There were no commercial flights to Kabul. The airport had been closed for months. In Peshawar, Pakistan, I boarded one of the small planes that the International Red Cross uses to transport medical supplies and personnel into Afghanistan. Arriving at a makeshift landing strip, a jeep was waiting to drive us through the mountains to Kabul, about two hours away. Strangely enough, I arrived in Kabul on Halloween night. I found shelter in a sports club founded by now-absent Germans. Several other journalists and photojournalists were staying there, too. As we all now know, decades of shelling have left the city in shambles. I found Kabul a truly surreal place. Women, covered by burkhas, peered out from behind a kind of gridded net. Patrols armed with rubber hoses rounded up men on the street for Friday prayer. Weekly public executions of adulterers took place in a city square. The Taliban prohibited the use of television, radios, or cameras. When walking through the streets, I found that even among Taliban soldiers, my being American was a source of fascination, and I was thus able to move around freely and, with caution, photograph (taking pictures of women was an extremely delicate matter). For the most part, the Afghanis I encountered showed a genuine sense of hospitality toward me. |
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Video Interview Camera: Dirck Halstead |
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| "It was fascinating on all levels..." |
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| "People were unwilling to speak their minds..." |
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| "There seemed to be thousands of orphans..." |
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| "Cut off from the rest of the world..." |
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