Hazara Nation

TheN As religious chanting filled the air and cars carrying huge green flags trawled through the muddy streets, Qayum took a moment to think about the future.

“I hear from the people that the Taliban are close to Kabul and they will soon be here,” he said. “If they come and they are very strict like before, then we will fight them.”

The 20-year-old man – who gave only one name – together with the rest of Afghanistan’s minority Shiite community were preparing to commemorate Ashura yesterday with a freedom that may yet again be under threat.

Portraits showing Imam Hussein Ali and banners praising him have dominated the Kabul landscape this past week. At makeshift stalls, volunteers dressed in black have given out tea, hot milk and dates to the public.

Not so long ago such scenes were unthinkable. Under the Sunni-fundamentalist Taliban government, iconic imagery was outlawed and, in a number of provinces, Shiites were slaughtered.

On the surface then, the change has been remarkable, but over it all looms the shadow of a growing insurgency. One recent report by an international think tank claimed the Taliban now have a permanent presence in 72 per cent of Afghanistan, up from 54 per cent in 2007.

Last year was the bloodiest since the US-led invasion, with 151 US soldiers among the dead. According to the Associated Press, at least 850 Afghan police and 1,160 civilians were also killed. Similar or higher levels of violence are expected during the next 12 months.

Mohammed Baqir is from Behsud, an area of Maidan Wardak province where the Shia Hazara community has been involved in fierce land disputes with Pashtun nomads, who some claim are members of the Taliban. For him, even that unrest is a clear sign of the rebels’ spreading influence.

“If we have anything in our hands, we will fight them in Kabul. If the Taliban get here, first of all they will attack us and kill our women and children,” he said.

Ashura comes at the end of a 10-day mourning period that Shiites around the world observe. Accompanied by public displays of self-flagellation, it is held to remember the martyrdom of the Prophet Mohammed’s grandson, Imam Hussein.

Mr Baqir, 50, was sitting in front of a cobbler’s in the west of Kabul city while elderly men made their way along the road to a sprawling graveyard on a snow-covered hillside.

“During the Taliban, we were not allowed to hang these posters or put up these flags. The people had to celebrate quietly and the women were not allowed to go to the mosques. Now all the Shias can celebrate in the street, but then it was impossible,” he said.

The discrimination is not only confined to one period in Afghanistan’s history. Hazaras in particular have traditionally been regarded as best suited for the more menial jobs this impoverished society has to offer, working as cleaners and servants.

Now they have representatives in parliament and if a presidential election takes place this year, they will inevitably field a candidate who will receive a significant proportion of the national vote.

Not everyone, though, is happy with the amount of progress that has been made under the government of Hamid Karzai, the president.

Sher Mohammed took a break from handing out tea to list his complaints.

“Life has changed by about 50 per cent. If you go farther into this area you will see there is no electricity for the Shia people. And lots of organisations have promised to give us wood to build our houses, but they haven’t done that yet,” he said.

These concerns stretch across any ethnic and religious lines that remain, with high unemployment and a lack of basic infrastructure adding to the fears all Afghans have about the future. In a country where everyday survival is a struggle, optimism does not last long.

“It’s not important for us who is in the government or how many of its members are Shia,” Mr Mohammed said. “We just need peace and security. If we are alive and in good health, that is enough for us.”