'Executions are our only entertainment' By Christina Lamb, Nic Robertson and Julian West in Pakistan and Philip Sherwell in Afghanistan (Filed: 07/10/2001)

THE Taliban are building hundreds of gun-positions around their southern stronghold of Kandahar in preparation for American military strikes.

An Afghan doctor who spent two days in Kandahar for The Telegraph - foreign journalists are banned from the Taliban-held parts of the country - witnessed the intense activity and military build-up.

Anti-aircraft guns and rocket-launchers have been installed behind sandbags along the road from the border and new security measures prevent people from leaving the city, the second largest in Afghanistan.

The move comes amid growing nervousness in Kandahar where a car bomb exploded at the Bara Bazaar on Thursday, killing five people and injuring 25 and leading to widespread panic that the American attacks had begun.

As the American build-up continued with the arrival of more troops yesterday in Turkmenistan, the Taliban seem to be concentrating their defences around Kandahar. Western intelligence officers believe that most of the Taliban leadership has left Kabul.

Taliban officials have demanded money for the war effort from Kandahari businessmen, and young men were rounded up and taken away from the mosques after Friday prayers in which the mullahs gave anti-Western sermons, rallying people to fight "the Great Satan".

Extra checkpoints have been placed on all roads outside the city, preventing men of fighting age from leaving.

They are conscripting all the men, Ahmatullah, a 27-year-old oil trader who fled last week with his wife and two baby daughters said: "They are conscripting all the men, everyone is just waiting for war."

After a meeting of the ruling shura on Friday, Mullah Omar, the Taliban leader, addressed the nation on Radio Kabul.

He called on Afghans to "remove the signs of timidity and get ready for jihad against non-believers" and demanded that they "convert the streets of Afghanistan into a graveyard for American troops".

A Taliban official said 6,000 Arab fighters had arrived from Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, the United Arab Emirates, Algeria and Oman and been deployed in the cities of Khost and Herat.

He also claimed that Pakistan's tribal chiefs are mobilising a 50,000-strong pro-Taliban force in border areas.

Pakistani military forces are also digging in at positions along the Afghan border near Quetta, apparently fearing reprisals from the Taliban for their support of the American attack.

Three thousand extra troops have been moved to the border. Crossing the Pakistan border to Kandahar is like travelling into the heart of darkness.

Burnt-out Soviet tanks from the last war litter the sides of the road across dusty plains where hundreds of black-turbanned Taliban soldiers are busy digging gun positions.

On the city's outskirts, the orchards of apple, peach and pomegranates are withered and deserted after three years of drought. The only things growing are poppies for heroin production.

Inside Kandahar, entered through a Taliban checkpoint, it first appears that there are no women, until a few appear, scuttling among the mud-walled houses, their faces and bodies hidden under their blue burkhas.

There are no signs of children. The Taliban closed all but the religious schools, and in the past three weeks all those who can, have moved their wives and children away.

Anyone who does not answer calls to prayer is rounded up by the Bin Marouf, the enforcers of the Taliban's strict interpretation of Islam. They use sticks and leather belts to drive men into the mosques.

In the 300-year-old market, many stalls are bare and people speak in murmurs, fearful of who may be listening.

"It's a nightmare running a market under the Taliban," complained Wali Jan, the leader of the Noorzai tribe and owner of the market, which has 1,200 stalls.

"They keep banning things. Televisions, videos, paintings, even clocks with pictures. We can no longer sell music except the Taliban Top Ten, which is truly terrible.

He added: "I started importing soap from Malaysia in green and yellow packets and didn't notice a small black silhouette of a lady. The Taliban came and burnt all the stock."

Many of those who fled initially have returned, unable to get into Pakistan and facing starvation in the countryside.

The university, once a renowned centre of learning, has closed, while the main hospital has only one doctor and nurse left.

Even bin Laden's followers have left, after years of terrorising the locals. Anti-Taliban mujahideen claim to have many supporters in Kandahar but it is impossible to gauge the true feelings of the city's residents.

"I have friends who are Taliban customs officials who would leave if they could," said Ahmatullah, "but at the moment no one dare speak."

In a small sign of rebellion, some young people have started underground clubs showing American films.

Ahmatullah added: "People are starting to take risks because it's got to the stage where everything is banned. Our only entertainment is public executions.

When we were children we spent weekends picnicking at al-Gandhar, among the orchards and streams, listening to music under the stars, eating barbecued lamb and pomegranates, the juice dripping down our faces.

Now if you try to go outside the city the Taliban ask where are you going and why. "Sleeping has become our hobby as it's the only thing not banned."

Wali Jan, who as an important tribal leader has met Mullah Omar several times, said: "I asked him what people are supposed to do for entertainment. 'Look at flowers,' he said."

In rain-starved Kandahar, however, even those have died. There is little more joy in Kabul, once a cosmopolitan city where women wore mini-skirts and make-up, and French was the court language.

During the Soviet occupation the city remained largely untouched, but when the mujahideen took over in the 1990s, heavy fighting between factions flattened much of it, and the capital is now bracing itself for the next attack.

A drab place with stinking open sewers, the wind leaves a thick layer of dust on everything. Kabul's exodus began soon after America announced its "war on terrorism". When the expected American bombings failed to materialise, however, many trickled back.

Shops and chai khanas, the local tea houses, have re-opened and the main bazaar by the muddy Kabul river is functioning.

Much of the time people sit at home, listening to the BBC World Service and Voice of America, the only sources of independent news.

Last week worsening conditions in the city drove thousands more to leave: food and petrol prices have rocketed and there is no kerosene for lamps.

Although there is electricity in wealthier parts of the city, the poorer mud-walled areas are plunged into darkness at night.

"We have to eat by moonlight," said a teacher who lives in Kharte Se, a western suburb of Kabul that was devastated by fighting nine years ago.

"Like most government servants, I haven't been paid for six months. There is no money to buy anything to eat." No one has seen the "6,000 Taliban soldiers" that the Taliban radio station reported had been sent to protect Kabul.

As in Kandahar, bin Laden's Arabs and their families, who were once a feared presence, have also disappeared. Their two-storey houses, behind high-gated walls in the affluent suburb of Wazir Akbar Khan, are locked and empty.

A teacher said: "Only poor people are left in the city. There is no one who could lead an uprising and people are too tired and frightened to fight."

Nic Robertson, a reporter for CNN, was the last western journalist working in Taliban-held Afghanistan before being asked to leave Kabul two weeks ago.

-- Anonymous, October 07, 2001