An Outsider's Journey Into Untamed Afghanistan

Sept. 10, 2004 — -- Most people would consider it insane to make a weeklong road journey into southern Afghanistan, but when camera woman Sophie Barry and I heard about the opportunity, we jumped at it.

Traveling to places like southern Paktika, nestled along Afghanistan's southeastern border with Pakistan, is like traveling back in time. There are no paved roads — only lumbar-crushing desert tracks. There's no electricity or running water, and the buildings are mere mud huts. We didn't see women once over the course of the entire journey.

Virgin Territory

These people had no TV, no telephones, no way to contact — or really know about — the outside world. The only modern conveniences, it seemed, were their weapons: The AK-47 was the accessory of choice for every turbaned man, and the Toyota Hilux the standard vehicle.

It would be dangerous, dusty and certainly uncomfortable for two women to venture to this part of the world. But this was an experiment with democracy we wanted to see firsthand. How would people so cut off from the modern world respond when invited to join the electoral process?

Before this mission, there had been virtually no effort to reach out to Taliban-held areas of southern Paktika. Many villagers here had never seen coalition forces at all.

"That has translated into a situation where slowly but surely local Talibans who had always been there have become increasingly bold over the months," said Sebastien Trives, a Frenchman who runs the U.N. mission, "to the point now where they're roaming freely in groups, usually groups of 10 to 15 Talibans on motorcycles, fully armed, well-equipped — well-equipped with financial resources, as well. So that is the situation that we're trying to end. And it's very much an uphill struggle."

Worth the Risk?

Afghanistan is set to hold presidential elections Oct. 9, and as the country lurches — sometimes violently — toward that date, it is essential that the United Nations and the government engage as many people as they can in the process.

But is it always worth the risk? And the expense?

This project represented one side of the argument: You take a big, well-armed group of soldiers to protect a small group of government officials and diplomats, and you travel, with olive branch in hand, into the enemy's lair.

It's costly, complicated and risky: We traveled with more than 300 U.S. and Afghan soldiers, with Cobra helicopters and A10 fighter jets screaming overhead. This was a massive investment for a sparsely populated area. Was it worth it?

Critics say the authorities should focus the money and the protection on the already friendly areas. As peace and prosperity grow, more areas will join. But it had not been working that way in Afghanistan. Rather, instability and insecurity was growing. U.S. troops hunting the Taliban across the south were showing little result.

Officials decided to take another tact: If you can't beat them, try making friends.

Danger Ahead? No, a Dance Performance

As we set off the first day from the relative safety of the governor's compound in Sharan, I wondered what we would encounter. We had been briefed by the troops as to what to do if we hit a land mine, if the convoy was ambushed. It seemed creepy, driving along the empty roads. Who knew what was up ahead?

In fact, it was a lively dance performance. We rolled into Khanikhel, the first district on our tour, to the beat of enormous tribal drums. The tribesmen danced wildly in a circle. They stared as Sophie and I began filming, but when we showed them the images, on the tiny screen on the back of the DV camera, smiles broke out on their faces. They had never seen themselves on TV before.

We were invited to an enormous feast, where U.S. soldiers struggled to smile as they picked at piles of gamey, greasy lamb. The U.N. team, led by Trives, spent hours convincing the tribesmen engaging with the government was a good idea.

Late that night, we went to sleep under the stars, inside an ancient-looking compound. When we awoke in the morning, it turned out our campsite sat atop a weapons cache. Good thing the Taliban hadn't fired on us in the night.

Over the coming days, our reception was largely the same in tiny backwards village after tiny backwards village. The process was agonizingly slow — meetings after meetings after meetings. Once the tribesmen agreed to support the newly appointed governor, Mohammed Gulab Mangal, the U.S. soldiers would fan out to launch aid projects around the village — schools, wells, even pharmacies were planned out.

"What tribe are these guys, Jarote or Wazir," asked U.S. Capt. Kelley Litzner to his translator, referring to the names of two major tribes in the south.

"He must have been here awhile to know all the tribes," I said to another officer.

"About three months, I think," came the reply.

I had seen U.S. troops in action around Afghanistan and was usually dismayed by their high level of ignorance about local customs and culture. These guys seemed to have the system down.

Bombs, Sand, Hostility

But it wasn't always a walk in the park. The Taliban planted improvised bombs at various points along the journey. However, our biggest enemy seemed to be sand: Trucks got bogged down in sand traps, sand storms blew fine particles into everything — eyes, ears, noses, food, computers and especially cameras.

As the convoy traveled farther south, to the border area with Pakistan, some of those hostile Taliban sympathizers began to make their presence known. In Tirwa, a wind-swept outpost less than one mile from the Pakistan border, the reception was noticeably colder.

The blast of an improvised bomb greeted the convoy as it rolled into town. There were no feasts or dancing, no signs of traditional Afghan hospitality. The hostile faces of the crowd were matched by the treacherous terrain. Mountains that ring the dusty hamlet were positioned perfectly for firing rockets at the campsite.

The U.S. troops consolidated us. We were surrounded by mountains on every side, some in range to hit us with rockets.

On the second day the delegation spent in Tirwa came word that local police protecting the convoy had been ambushed less than three miles away. U.S. troops rushed off to their rescue, arriving to find that the attackers had melted back into the mountains.

Taliban soldiers were intercepted talking about the mission's plans on their radio. It seemed that someone inside the camp was sending radio signals to the guerrillas in the mountains. Later, a suspected Taliban fighter observing the delegation from the hills was captured by U.S. soldiers.

It was scary. After the Taliban soldier was captured, we climbed on the roof of the compound where we stayed. It looked like someone had turned over a rock: Hundreds of turbaned heads were fleeing in every direction. We wondered what was in store for us that evening, if Tirwa was going to be our Alamo.

In the end, nothing happened. We left early the next day, and not a moment too soon.

Under Attack

On the last day of our journey, we headed to Gomal, the final district on the itinerary. We had to pass through a treacherous mountain corridor used regularly by al Qaeda terrorists.

It was the perfect place for an ambush and at a crucial moment in the journey, the air support that had been shadowing the convoy throughout the trip was nowhere in sight.

Sure enough, the telltale thud of a rocket-propelled grenade exploded near the governor's vehicle. Sophie was with him, and I was terrified something had hit their vehicle.

I was about a mile behind with Capt. Litzner. He couldn't raise anyone on the radios. There was mass confusion, and then the RPGs started exploding over our convoy. By the time air support arrived, a total of 11 RPGs had been fired at the convoy. Incredibly, no one was hurt.

It was an unnerving reminder that enemy forces are determined to disrupt upcoming elections.

Critics say the threat of further attacks makes missions like this one through southern Paktika too dangerous to pursue, that possible loss of life is not worth engaging a few thousand villagers.

In a region where women are rarely let out in public, many doubt the deeply religious tribal leaders will allow them to vote. But members of the mission believe the journey marked a crucial step toward stability and maybe even democracy, in an area that often seems lost in time.

"All the enemy will tell the people is that the governor is there for the wrong reasons, he's not going to help you," said Lt. Col. Walter Piatt. "But I think all we sent was a positive message that we are there to help."

"We have to be creative," said Trives. "Proactive and intelligent, I think, and that's what success costs."

In the end, it was a stunning success. Every district the mission visited decided to join the elections, even hostile Tirwa.

Across troubled Paktika province, more than 220,000 people have registered to vote, almost half of them women.