It was early morning in Bati Kot district, 200km east of Kabul. A crowd had gathered in front of the governor’s office. Young men sat on the ground, a lone woman in a blue burqa begged for alms as she soothed a baby, and an elderly man nervously clung on to what appeared to be documents. They were all waiting for the governor—for money, material support, food, signature and seal on documents, and so on.
A convoy of military vehicles brought the governor. Suleiman Sha Khpalwak was young and elegantly dressed. He wore a white perahan tunban, the loose-fitting Afghani attire, with a black wascat (traditional vest) on top. Khpalwak belonged to a respected family in Bati Kot. His father used to work for the National Directorate of Security, Afghanistan’s premier intelligence agency.
Khpalwak saw the people who had been waiting. He held the woman’s hands, and listened intently to the old man’s words. “Give the food aid to those who are eligible,” he told the office staff.
Surrounded by armed guards, he entered his office and asked for tea. He then turned towards us, and asked for patience. “There are too many people in need,” he said. “I can’t go with you without listening to them first.”
He returned half an hour later, and said it was still too early to take us to the checkpoints, where his men were keeping watch. The marauding Taliban was just a few kilometres away; the district could be their next stop.
And so, as we waited, Khpalwak began to tell the story of Bati Kot.
The infection
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة August 29, 2021 من THE WEEK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
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هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة August 29, 2021 من THE WEEK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
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