Afghan meeting as diverse, complex as country itself
By David Fox
Dateline: PESHAWAR, Pakistan, October 24 (Reuters)
The problems faced by
those
trying to create a new government in Afghanistan are the same as the
challenges that on Wednesday confronted the organisers of a peace
conference
on the country -- too many men and not enough seats for them all.
Over 1,000 Afghan men crowded into Nishtar Hall in the Pakistani
border
city of Peshawar on Wednesday for a conference on peace and national
unity
that organisers hope could lay the groundwork for an acceptable
Afghanistan
government should the U.S.-led raids topple the ruling Taliban.
With space for only 600, the theatre quickly filled up.
The aisles were cluttered with wizened old men sitting on the stairs
holding court with friends and colleagues. The stage -- ostensibly
reserved
for VIPs -- was soon taken over by latecomers bearing chairs from a
nearby
cafeteria above their heads.
It was an incongruous setting for a meeting that would not have been
out
of place in the middle of Afghanistan over 1,000 years ago.
Luxuriantly bearded men with elaborate silk turbans sashayed up to
the
entrance to be frisked by efficient Pakistani security officials.
Short, dark-skinned Uzbeks, eyes narrowed as if against the harsh
sun
of
the Afghan plains, scurried through, doffing their woolen caps as they
passed.
Tall, blue eyed Pathans walked imperiously with their silver- topped
canes beating a tattoo ahead of them.
The arrival of each entourage added to the air of a mediaval market
place, the only concession to modernity being the mobile telephones many
clutched to their belts like their ancestors would have done with a
curved
dagger all those years ago.
The only time there was quiet was during the opening prayer when
they
sat, stone-faced, like garden gnomes on display in the window of a
hardware
shop.
But once the formalities were over, it became a free for all. The
louder
your voice, the more likely you'd be listened to. The longer your beard,
the
more the air of gravitas.
"There is an order to this," said one observer. "If you imagine that
everyone must pay respect to everyone else, and everyone else must pay
respect to you, then you get the order."
Perhaps, but it takes some divining.
The first speaker up was Sayed Ahmad Gailani, the organiser of the
conference and considered almost a saint by those who follow the
mystical
Sufi branch of Islam.
Grey-haired and trim bearded, Gailani told the audience how he had
recently met Afghanistan's exiled King, Zaheer Shah, and how they had
agreed
for the monarch to head a reconciliation council to step into the breech
when the Taliban fall.
Dressed in long dark robes trimmed with brilliant gold thread, he
looked
every inch the Sheikh as he read from a prepared speech that drew
mumbles
of
approval from the crowd.
Afghanistan has a tradition of Loya Jirgas, grand meetings of tribal
and
clan elders from around the country that are convened whenever crisis
threatens the country or when important affairs of state are to be
discussed.
There was certainly something of Loya Jirga feel to Wednesday's
conference.
Concern is mounting around the world as to what happens in
Afghanistan
should -- or, as some believe, when -- the Taliban fall.
While the Northern Alliance has certainly won military credibility
by
never giving up its armed struggle against the Taliban, it is composed
mainly of Afghan ethnic minorities who would struggle to win the loyalty
of
the Pathan majority.
Although not touted as such, Wednesday's conference is seen by some
as
being the birth of a Southern Alliance that could have more political
credibility and be more truly representative of the whole of
Afghanistan.
Certainly, if the audience was anything to go by, the diversity was
there.
One old man with a richly-hennaed beard stood suddenly as the sound
of
Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" started broadcasting -- apparently from his
head.
He retrieved a mobile phone from the folds of his turban, much to the
amusement of his friends nearby.
Another man found himself in complete bewilderment when confronted
by
a
Western woman photographer dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He touched
her
arm as she moved on, and then stared at his fingers as if not believing
what
he had just seen.
There was as much testosterone and facial hair on display as at
convention of Ernest Hemmingway look-alikes. Each friendly hug to a
long-lost friend was more like a wrestling match, with each participant
feeling the weight and strength of their opponent.
Alliances and enmities are swiftly forged in Afghanistan, where the
harsh landscape and living conditions mean convenience is often more
crucial
to survival than permanence.
But what united them on Wednesday, was lunch.
As the first session of the meeting broke up, there was an
undignified
dash for the restaurant where vast vats of bubbling stew and curry had
been
sending tantalising aromas through the theatre's ventilation system.
"This is not as good as at home, but it is good," said one man,
dexterously mopping up gravy with a slab of unleavened bread. "If
everyone
can eat like this, there is no need to fight anymore."
((David Fox, Islamabad newsroom ))
REUTERS
|