Word: chaman
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...brother was screaming all the time," Abdul Halim recalls. But no doctors were there, either. Nor were there any other painkillers or anesthetics. With so many Afghans fleeing the cities, another six days passed before Abdul Halim found a car that would take him past Kandahar to the Chaman border, a distance of over 150 miles. Imagine riding six days over dirt roads with a bullet near your spine and another in your leg on the worst roads in the hemisphere...
...said, "we do see snippets of intelligence information suggesting part of the Taliban is starting to decide that they'd prefer not to be part of the Taliban," there were also signs that some are committed to fight to their death. Young militants streamed across the Pakistani border near Chaman hoping to join the fight. At the strategic northern town of Mazar-i-Sharif, Taliban fighters waged pitched battles against the local opposition forces of the Northern Alliance. "The morale of the Taliban is fine," an Afghan aid worker from Kabul told TIME. "In face of rockets and bombing...
...CONFLICT Desolation Row The flow of refugees streaming out of Afghanistan's major cities to escape two weeks of relentless U.S. aerial bombardment rose to a new peak last week. The town of Chaman, on the border with Pakistan and only 130 km from the Taliban stronghold of Kandahar, was besieged by more than 3,500 on Friday alone...
...border town of Chaman, I went to talk to a merchant who owned an import-export business. It was a dusty shop front with a very large carpet and no furniture other than a few bolsters. It didn't look like much, but appearances in this part of the world can be deceptive. Ostentation attracts envy - and trouble. It turns out this merchant, Haji Amanullah, and his brothers are very rich and very famous around these parts. They live in a 130-room palace outside Chaman and have offices in Tokyo, Dubai, Quetta and Karachi. He's going to Paris...
...sunset as we left Chaman. As the road wound up into the mountains, we came across the horde of illegal refugees who'd scrambled across the border earlier. They were in a long caravan of tractors, taxis, pickups and wildly-painted buses with men clinging to their sides and roofs. The caravan was stopped at the first police checkpoint. We jumped out and moved through the halted vehicles, attracting a crowd as we walked. A fellow dragged me over to see a white bearded man crumpled into a pick-up truck. He'd been wounded in the air strike...