Village visit

Naheed Mustafa

Letting Afghans take over

Last Updated: Friday, August 14, 2009 | 1:10 PM ET

Naheed Mustafa, special to CBC News

The village of Bellar Say sits high up in the emerald-green mountains of Faryab province in northwest Afghanistan.

The village is just a clutch of mud buildings and the biggest concern up here is not war but water. The people of this area are farmers and herders and the five-year drought has hit them hard.

They make do by sharing what little they have and by food staples from the World Food Program — Afghanistan is among its largest clients.

It takes about an hour in an SUV to reach Bellar Say from the closest town, Maymana, the provincial capital. The road is relatively new, narrow and made of gravel.

The children of Bellar Say. A new gravel road means the hospital is only three hours away. But is that enough for their future? (Naheed Mustafa/CBC)

It winds its way up and around the mountains and down into the valleys, passing through a river that's become barely a trickle in some places.

The people here are pleased with the road. Now they can visit relatives in the nearby villages in groups, using the few local cars and vans that some of the more enterprising among them run as taxis.

They can now do business further from home. And the road means the nearest hospital is only three hours away instead of just a distant dream.

The road to Bellar Say is a potent symbol in this part of the country.

These villagers are among the most deprived in all of Afghanistan, which is saying something, even if they are relatively secure from the violence in the South.

But after seven years and billions of dollars in international aid, are modest gains like a gravel road really the kind of progress that Afghanistan needs?

What's the alternative?

The road was built by the Afghan government under the National Solidarity Program, which was started back in 2003 during the transitional government period.

The program enables local communities to identify their own needs and figure out a plan of action to address them.

It is one of the few programs that people point to as being run by Afghans for Afghans. Its funds come from donor countries, including Canada and will total more than $900 million by its projected end in 2010.

Electricity here is also a recent arrival. Even today, only about 10 per cent of Afghans have it and only for a couple of hours a day at the most.

Elders at Bellar Say, in Faryab province in northern Afghanistan. No fighting here, but not much electricity either. (Naheed Mustafa/CBC)

When I visited Bellar Say this past March, I was invited to a meal with the local village council. The room was dark and cold and I could barely see the faces of my hosts.

So one of the old men called out for light and suddenly the single, naked bulb swinging above lit up.

In Bellar Say, the village elders refer to the National Solidarity Program and President Hamid Karzai interchangeably.

They like the country's current leader because he helped them build a road and he helped bring them electricity. As well, they say, it's not like there is an obvious alternative.

It's a refrain I heard again and again from rural people in northern Afghanistan: The government's good enough, we have what we need and if we don't, it's simply God's will. Besides, if not Karzai then who?

Free speech

Afghans measure progress in different ways. For the villagers, the simple measure is daily life: is it easier or harder than it used to be?

But in the towns and cities, the yardsticks are more complex.

Yacoob Ibrahimi is a reporter in Kabul who has been charting his country's progress, using free speech as a measure.

He says that, back in 2001, it was like a "revolution" for free speech and journalists here could work reasonably safely.

But things started to change just after the first parliamentary elections in 2005 and have since become much worse. He first felt the sting of that change when working in Kunduz, which is also in the country's north.

"I (wrote) a story in late 2006 about men exchanging a fighting dog for an 11-year-old girl," Ibrahimi says. "It was a negotiation between two local warlords.

The bird market in Kabul, Afghanistan. Progress is measured differently in the big cities. (Naheed Mustafa/CBC)

"After that I received a lot of phone calls and threats and they directly threatened me. 'If you don't stop, it will be very expensive for you. If you don't stop, you will face assassination.'"

As he sees it, the main problem is those who made their way into office in that first direct election are themselves mostly warlords or local power brokers who have much to fear from a truly free press.

He says if reporters here could write freely about Afghanistan's leaders and tell the world the extent of their dealings, those same politicians would "face international tribunals instead of parliamentary positions."

A turning point?

Ibrahimi has worked all over this country and, while he started with a good deal of hope, he's now convinced that if the election this month doesn't bring real change, Afghanistan is doomed.

For him, this election isn't about simply replacing one president with another, it's a real turning point, a chance for Afghans to make a choice about where this country is headed.

Given the circumstances — and the increase in the Taliban insurgency — this seems like an almost quixotic idea. But the notion that it's time to give Afghans an opportunity to make more important decisions on their own seems to be gaining currency on a variety of fronts.

For example, Gen. Stanley McChrystal, the current head of U.S. and NATO forces in Afghanistan, has talked about the need to "Afghanize" the war effort. It's a sentiment echoed by the new secretary general of NATO, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, who says Afghans must begin to take a lead role in maintaining their own security.

But the "how" part of Afghanization is not at all clear, even it seems to McChrystal, who is currently in the midst of a strategic review. He is looking at all kinds of new "metrics" to figure out how and when U.S. troops can pull back and let Afghans take over.

These recommendations were due out in mid-August but are now delayed until September, likely to see how this election itself turns out.

'Let us make mistakes'

What impact these elections will really have on Afghan autonomy is very hard to get a handle on. But there is little question that the desire to "Afghanize" more decision making here is on the rise.

Canadian soldiers and police trainers help train a bunch of Afghan police recruits in Kandahar. (Susan Ormiston/CBC)

That would be Javaid Zeerak's way of measuring progress.

He's young, American-educated and works in Kabul for the Afghan Ministry of Rural Rehabilitation and Development, the same ministry that oversees the National Solidarity Program.

He says Afghanistan's status as the Western world's pet project must change, that it's time for Afghans to do the real work.

"Let Afghans make some mistakes," he urges. "Eventually they will come to a point where they can take charge of their destiny because the state in this country will be the elected representatives of its people and will have to work on a long-term basis even when the international community is not there."

Taking charge of their own destiny seems to be a recurring theme in this election period. Afghans talk about destiny all the time.

But there's other talk, too, using words such as transparency and benchmarks. And according to those who use these words, it's clear that Afghanistan is not moving forward.

In many parts of the country, the best the government can do is point to a gravel road and occasional electricity as progress.

The Afghans I met were angry and frustrated and it's plain they want change. The insurgency seems to be strengthening and becoming more complex, corruption is widespread, and services are scarce and unreliable.

Everyone I spoke with has an idea of what might work in Afghanistan and what the ultimate solution ought to be.

But there's no end in sight to the current dilemma and no immediate way forward that all will agree on.

All that is clear is that some new direction is needed and that Afghans want to be part of charting it. Whether this election will lead to that new way is impossible to know.