Bloody Justice in Kabul

A Taliban youth carries criminals severed hands through the streets of Kabul.

As the hooded man continued to cut through the wrist, I heard the most chilling sound. After a moment I realized it was the sound of 35,000 tongues "tsking" the criminal.

By Citizen Correspondent Mark Mason

Date Posted: 11/14/05

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When Afghanistan's communist government fell apart in 1996, Islamic insurgents began fighting over the pieces. The fundamentalist Taliban eventually won control of most of the country and issued decrees that changed daily life dramatically for Afghanis. Women were ordered to leave their jobs, schools, hospitals, and businesses. Public praying five times a day became mandatory. Afghani men were forbidden to shave. The Ministry of Vice and Virtue instituted surprise beard checks and on-the-spot beatings for the overly groomed. At the same time, Taliban's Islamic courts and religious police enforced a merciless interpretation of just punishment: public execution by stoning for adultery or murder, and amputation of a hand or a foot for theft. Orato.com correspondent Mark Mason witnessed one of these public amputations at a stadium in Kabul, where thousands gathered to watch the bloody punishment infringed to criminals.

In 1998, I flew to Afghanistan on photographic assignment for several humanitarian aid organizations. After a month of hard work I decided to take in one of the few "cultural events" still allowed by the Taliban government.

On Fridays after the noon prayers, authorities in the capital, Kabul, stage the public stoning of adulterers and hand-chopping of thieves. These punishments take place at the city's soccer stadium, recently restored with United Nations funds.

An hour before show time a crowd had already queued up at the entrance. There were fathers bringing their sons to view their first public hand chopping, religious leaders arriving to see the word of the Koran faithfully carried out and hundreds of vendors who had a grand opportunity to hawk their goods amid the burgeoning crowd.

I tried sitting inconspicuously on a wall across from the stadium entrance. Shouts of "Hello, Mister!" and "Baksheesh!" (Afghan slang for begging money) rang out as groping hands probed my pockets. Soon I was surrounded. The crowd grew larger. Then I drew the attention of a Taliban guard who had been keeping the spectators from entering the stadium before the event.

He was typical of many of the Taliban soldiers I had seen. Young men about 18-years old and wild looking, with a long, flowing black turban and fiery, charcoal-lined eyes.
With an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and a small tree branch for swatting general lawbreakers in his hand, this "student of God" approached the melee. Swinging the switch with wild abandon, my savior drove the unruly bunch, holding their behinds, into the crowd. He then approached me.