U.N. workers fear lawless Jalalabad

In this conservative gateway to eastern Afghanistan, where men are keeping their beards and women are still enveloped in burqas, many people already miss the law and order that the Taliban brought.

"We need an international government immediately," pleaded Waris Omari, security chief at the World Food Program compound. "We didn't want Taliban, but we don't want this either. There is no safety for anyone."

The WFP's expatriate staff evacuated Afghanistan with other U.N. workers after the Sept. 11 terror attacks in the United States. None of the foreigners has yet returned to Jalalabad because of the uncertain atmosphere.

The rival factions that took over this crucial commercial center between the Khyber Pass and Kabul worked out a power-sharing plan on Saturday to avert a threatened armed free-for-all. But just barely.

Some at the council meeting, known as a shura, said that one faction leader, Hazrat Ali, was so angry at being named police chief instead of district governor that he flung his radio-telephone against a wall.

Haji Abdul Qadir, who was named governor, emerged from the shura in an ebullient mood, wearing an elegant beige silk turban. "I've been waiting for an important occasion to put this on and this is it," he said.

But, he told reporters, there are still 1,000 to 1,500 Arabs who support Osama bin Laden are still at large in the hills around here.

The next day he was so overwhelmed with crises that when the director of an Afghan voluntary agency told him that soldiers were looting his compound, Qadir turned away with an abrupt: "I'll call you later."

As the power dramas played out in the splendid old governor's palace, a fearful mood pervaded Jalalabad streets, lined with mud-walled shops and homes.

Abdul Azim, a 31-year-old electronics engineer, scrapes together enough to feed his wife and three kids with a corner sundries shop. He also moonlights by fixing small appliances in a city with no electricity.

"I worry for my children," he said. "Everyone thinks about their children, how they'll grow up. These warlords don't want intellectuals, scientists. They want simple people who follow their rules."

Azim said the only answer for Afghanistan was a broad-based government that took power from the hands of armed militias.

"These warlords can't govern the country," he concluded. "Our previous experience will just be repeated again and again."

The eastern militias took Jalalabad easily after U.S. warplanes blasted the ancient city of 300,000.

Three craters cut the airport runway, and a cruise missile had obliterated a transport helicopter. A mud-walled al-Qaida terrorist training camp at Duranta, outside town, was leveled with precision – only the mosque was unscathed – although it had been evacuated before the attack.

Now, Jalalabad waits, with gunmen in evidence in every direction.

On Saturday night, 20 ragtag fighters loyal to one of a half dozen local commanders lounged on guard duty at a traffic circle under a huge lighted globe showing continents few could even imagine.

Noor Gul, 60, in a grimy robe and sandals, clutched an AK-47 with a stock shined to a high sheen with constant handling. He first took it up to fight the Russians in 1979 and has no plans to put it away now.

He was happy that his side was on top, but he had nothing against the previous regime.

"The Taliban's OK," he said. "When they were in power, I only missed playing music."

He would not consider allowing his wife to leave the house without wearing the all-enveloping burqa. His two daughters do not go to school. He believes it would be an insult to Allah to pray without a long beard covering his face.

"I will put down my gun when God decides," he said.

Gulam Mohammed, 24, studied literature at university before renewed warfare against the Taliban put him back in the ranks.

"I don't like to carry this, but I have no choice," he said. "I want to build a strong Afghanistan." But, like the others, he wanted no break from his country's old traditions.

"Of course, my wife wears a burqa," he said, surprised at being asked. The others shouted their accord.

Gul Zaman, 25, was the only one who spoke out against the Taliban. "They destroyed our country, creating great problems for us," he said.

At that, his comrades laughed, and one suggested Zaman was only saying that to ingratiate himself with whoever Afghanistan's next rulers might be.

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