A once-perilous road stirs back to life in Afghanan

Afghanan has been mostly at peace since the Taliban took over seven months ago. But a crippling economic and humanitarian crisis underlies almost every facet of life.
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We traveled the 300-mile road from Kabul to Kandahar, the country’s two largest cities, to see how things have changed.
For years, this trip was perilous. Gunfire, roadside bombs, crime and extortion were rampant. Countless people have been killed. But not anymore.
The trip begins with a Taliban checkpoint just outside Kabul, where the road splits in neighboring Wardak province.

Fighters seized the outpost right before Kabul fell in a gunbattle. Now they check ID cards and regrations.
Remnants of abandoned outposts sit among orchards, streams and potato fields. One former military base signals that the entrance to Ghazni city is near.
Young men laugh and play volleyball near the highway. Months ago, this would have been almost unheard-of. There was so much violence here.

As we arrive in Ghazni’s capital, the old city is a din of people buying supplies for winter. With U.S. sanctions, banks practically frozen and border closures, prices for items like cooking oil have skyrocketed. Many just don’t have the cash to buy enough food for their family.
With Ghazni behind and Kandahar approaching, the road soon turns back to its gnarled self. At a roadside stop in Zabul province, passengers wait for their bus to be repaired. They’re headed to Pakan, one said. His aunt has a stomach problem. “The doctors say they can’t get care here,” another chimes in. As they load onto the bus, a few grab tea boiled on makeshift stoves. They are but a small portion of the thousands leaving Afghanan.

The hollowed shells of destroyed vehicles and bullet-ridden homes along the road are a constant reminder of the war. Pedestrians and motors pass without much of a glance.
After the former government fell, old symbols of that era were scraped off and removed from cars’ windshields and dashboards, now often replaced Taliban flags and copies of the Quran to appease the new hard-line rulers.
Just yards from the highway in Zabul, one of the most violent provinces during the war, we witness a new phenomenon: grape farmers safely digging their fields and sitting for tea.
“Before we weren’t able to work so close to the road,” Nur Ahmad, 18, said.

The road isn’t all craters and destroyed bridges. There are stretches of paved serenity as Kandahar approaches.
During the war, peace marchers walked alongside it. The Taliban placed bombs beneath it. But even battered and destroyed in some places, the road perseveres, much like the Afghans who travel it.