Kandahari are survivors. During the last three decades, they have weathered storms of war, instability and ignorance, yet their greatest challenge could be now.
I first got to know the resilient people when sent there on a UN project in 2002. Kandahar had an air of promise about it. The Taliban had lost, the markets revived, schools reopened. Once again kids flew their bright kites.
Kandahari I met were excited, elated even. Their thoughts were of the future, focused on the changes would come.
They’d be disappointed. The international community, including Canada, ignored the restive South, and instead got caught in the meetings, parties and gossip of Kabul.
Time dragged on, the mood grew dark. Kandahar City continued to rot in its garbage and experience a hopeless electrical supply, while villagers suffered from the usual lack of clean water, medical care, and an unreliable police force.
Enter the Taliban. Rested, the insurgents drifted into the villages with a soft sell. With a tone of moderation, they reminded villagers that during their rule, the countryside was safe.
Villagers started to listen. Many lived in abject poverty, while those who grew poppies knew the Taliban would protect them. Some of the more conservative village elders and clerics began to support the insurgents.
By 2005, the Taliban were hammering coalition forces in Kandahar. Maps that once showed a province cleared of insurgents were being continually redrawn as the Taliban took over new territory. The next year, the newly placed Canadian troops would find the insurgents incredibly aggressive – even threatening to take over the province.
As the conflict grew, the Kandahari were pulled by both sides. During the day, western soldiers pressured villagers to point out IEDs and deny sanctuary to the insurgents. At night, these same villagers were pressed by the Taliban to provide food, shelter, money and recruits.
Most villagers have no great love for the insurgents, yet they see little benefit to supporting a far-off government in Kabul. Cooperating with the government and western soldiers could easily get them killed. Supporting the Taliban could see their village turned into a battleground.
This pressure is most acute now as NATO mounts its offensive to reclaim the province. They are finding short-term success; the Taliban are running, but many feel they are just hiding until the foreigners tire. Meanwhile the insurgents mount an extremely active campaign killing police, village elders, teachers and anyone else they dislike.
The average Kandahari are caught in the middle. A couple of weeks ago, my friend Khalid was offered nine times his usual salary to work with an American charity. It was not enough. “What’s the point of earning this money, if you are going to get killed,” he said. “I’ve friends that were killed. It’s not worth it.”
Most Kandahari believe the big NATO offensive will hurt the Taliban for now. But what of the future?
“You, the Americans, won’t stay forever,” a female teacher told me. “The Taliban will never leave because they are part of us.”
Yet there is hope that serious development could bring permanent change for the better. Some projects have improved lives by providing jobs, education, and medical care and perhaps most importantly, increased stability in participating villages. For instance, rural Kandahari have seen their lives and communities improve through smart development, such as the Canadian-led initiatives to improve Deh-e-Bagh village. On a larger scale, Canada’s risky project to repair the Dahla Dam could transform the lives of tens of thousands of farmers once the water flows.
Last year, my team completed a market revitalization project in Zaker Kalai village funded by Canada. A few days ago, we found that they had expanded and improved the market, increased the production of naan bread at the village bakery and built a community operated clinic that serves women and men.
Americans and other donors are now pouring huge resources for development into the neglected province, seeking to replicate and expand ideas that work, giving the Kandahari something to believe in and fight for.
Yet for now, their lives are caught in a holding pattern, as they uneasily mull their options.
Few believe the insurgents will permanently leave the province, but what role will they play in the future? Once NATO leaves, will they again take over Kandahar and their lives? Will they be beaten back, to enable some type of peace deal? Could there be a future worth living in Kandahar, or will they just try to survive another storm? And what of the children? These are the maddening questions that trouble their lives.
Whatever happens, I know Kandahari will endure, as they always have.
Drew Gilmour is with Development Works, a Canadian social enterprise agency active in Kandahar. Photos are courtesy of Development Works.















