Afghanistan

It had been less than two years since the Taliban reclaimed power in Afghanistan, and almost nothing about visiting the country was straightforward. After learning at the last minute that the Afghan consulate in Pakistan would be closed for Eid, I had to obtain my visa through an Indian fixer during a layover in Dubai. When I finally made it to Pakistan, my flights to Afghanistan were cancelled twice, forcing me to travel overland through the mountains. After arriving at the border, I was detained by Pakistan’s intelligence service, who were suspicious of why an American was trying to enter Taliban-controlled Afghanistan. As I was being interrogated, I watched the man beside me being whipped by guards. It was definitely one of the more stressful moments of my life.

After finally being allowed to cross, I met my local guide and driver, both coincidentally named Rohullah, and together we headed towards Bamiyan. The valley is famous for the Buddhas of Bamiyan, two enormous statues carved into the cliffs nearly 1,500 years ago that were destroyed by the Taliban in 2001 after they declared them idols. Ironically, during my visit, the Taliban were selling tickets to visitors wanting to see the empty niches where the statues once stood. Nearby, we visited Band-e Amir National Park, one of the most breathtaking places I’ve ever seen. Its deep blue lakes, surrounded by towering limestone cliffs, looked almost too vivid to be real. Wearing traditional Afghan clothing, I wandered along the lakeshore among local families enjoying a day out. It was such a peaceful side of Afghanistan that I never knew existed.

As we continued across the country, encounters with the Taliban became part of daily life. We passed through countless checkpoints, and in Ghazni Province we were required to register at a local Taliban office. Instead of simply checking our documents, the officials invited me for tea, an invitation that wasn’t really optional. It was one of many moments that made the journey feel both surreal and unsettling.

I finished my trip in Kabul, wandering through the markets and trying the local food. One of the highlights was having my portrait taken by Haji Mirzaman, a legendary photographer who has spent more than 60 years using a traditional wooden box camera to photograph generations of Afghans. I loved how his portraits helped humanize ordinary people. The Afghans I met weren’t the fanatics I’d spent years seeing in the headlines. They were ordinary people simply trying to build normal lives while living under the extraordinary oppression of the Taliban. Before visiting Afghanistan, I thought I understood the country because I’d spent years watching it on the news. After leaving, I realized I’d only understood the headlines. Beneath the violence and instability is a country of unmatched beauty and incredibly humble people.