The hard road to peace

Afghanistan is still suffering from the consequences of decades of civil war. An education offensive is to help bring peace to the country - and what it needs most is books.
Under a deep-blue sky and a sun already strong at daybreak stretches a sea of beige-coloured mud homes. Huddled close' together, they cover the rolling hills' of the city. Gleaming on the horizon are high, snow-covered moun- tains. The scene is breathtaking. But its picturesque features are deceiving. Life in Kabul, the largely destroyed, but steadily recovering capital of Afghanistan, is any- thing but tranquil. The dusty, narrow streets have neither power lines nor a wa- ter supply, not to mention a sewer system.
Up to ten households share a latrine. In many of the small, boxy dwellings, sheet plastic is used in place of window glass.
As we set off early in the day to travel across town, we can already hear the sounds of the morning rush-hour coming from the main roads - a total chaos of white-and-yellow taxis, diesel buses and an increasing number of passenger cars.
Appearing oversized in comparison are partially annored vehicles rigged with ra- dio systems, most of them belonging to various relief organisations. At one inter- section, the cars get into such a jam that Eit's impossible to go on. A visibly tense traffic officer tries in vain to untangle the knot. An enraged driver jumps out of his car to settle the conflict the old-fashioned way.
It takes us an endless amount of time to get through the densely populated metropolis to the university. Ruins and burned-out cars, relicts of years of fierce fighting, line the road. We hardly reach the campus before the car comes to yet another halt, this time for a security check. Bomb threats, shootings and violence in general are still part of everyday life in Kabul. Guards search our vehicle for explosive charges. Finally, we rumble on. The road through the university grounds is strewn with potholes. War and civil war have left their traces everywhere in Kabul, even at the university. Some of the 14 faculties only survived the rule of the Taliban in a kind of hibernation, with just one professor and a handful of students. Since the Taliban were ousted from power two years ago, more and more instructors have been returning from exile, like the charismatic Mr. Behboud, head of the German Department of Kabul University. He lived for many years in Denmark and Pakistan to escape the upheaval in his homeland. Alter coming back, he found his alma mater in a desolate state. Today, however, most of the buildings have been repaired and connected to the power grid, thanks to international aid. But the lines prove to be unreliable and prone to damage, meaning that the diesel generators must be switched on time and again to keep classes going.
The professors and students have become accustomed to power failures, no heat on cold days and toilets that don't flush. Much more difficult for them to bear is the lack of books. Hidden in dusty cellars, only few of the university's now mostly outdated books survived the civil wars, bombing raids and plundering. Many of them fell victim to the Taliban's ban of printed images.
A set of new textbooks donated from Germany is handed out to the students of the German Department at the beginning of class, and collected again at the end. A possession of this kind is too valuable to let students use for their homework, the risk too great that a book might not find its way back to the university.
'Education kills faith," the mullahs preached. No wonder that an estimated 65 to 85 percent of all Afghans can't read or write. With the addition of poverty and the turmoil of war, entire generations of children have grown up without schooling. Under the Taliban, girls were not even permitted to go to class to begin with. If ~ children were lucky, they learned a little English in secret home-schools.
'The road to peace goes through the schoolyard." This conviction has become increasingly widespread since the religious regime was driven from the country. And words lead to actions. Together with UNICEF, the Afghan Transitional Authority formed in December 2001 has launched a 'Back to School" campaign. Demolished, schools have been rebuilt, temporary classrooms set up in tents. But these centers of learning likewise lack books and classroom materials. International organisations donate the bare necessities, which must be transpo~ed long distances by truck from Pakistan. Afghan books hardly exist at all, because most production operations are still down. Of the country's roughly sixty printers, only a few have managed to get up and run-fling again. They mainly produce school workbooks, to whatever extent their situation permits.
People looking for something to read in Kabul go to the Kabul Bookstore, an assemblage of tin booths on the side of the road, where they find a rather limited selection. A small publisher also sells books for two or three dollars a piece from an old bus. He has about 250 different titles on offer. However, passers-by are much more interested in the newspapers and magazines spread out on the street. In addition to several international papers, they can get the Kabul Times in English, several daily and weekly papers in native languages and even the Malalai 's Women's Magazine, with its fashion tips, colourful images and western format. Understandably, the need for entertainment is great, because anything relating to popular culture was absolutely forbidden under the Taliban. Harsh censors monitored observance of the numerous laws. The reappearance of independent media is largely attributable to the support of the French non-governmental organisation AINA. It helps not only with printing and distribution, but also holds workshops for newspaper, radio and television. AINA even trains camera-women and female newscasters. The results of these efforts for the media can be heard far and wide. Unimaginable just a short time ago, radio programs now blare out on the streets. German ISAF soldiers broadcast the "Stimme der Freiheit" (Voice of Freedom); there are listener-requested concerts and news segments in the native languages of Dan and Pashto. Radio Ar-man, the first private commercial radio station in Afghanistan, broadcasts a program consisting mostly of pop music, entertainment, leisure time tips and talk shows. Director Saad Mohseni returned after many years of exile in Australia. He is convinced that '98 percent" of the media in Kabul will go bankrupt within a year, if international aid is withdrawn.
This prediction makes activities like those of Heidelberger Druckmaschinen AG seem all the more important. In early January, the company opened its own training center in Kabul. The primary objective is to train young printers and prepress professionals. Included in the facilities is a workshop with welding, lathe and work benches. Basic courses generally last six months and are designed for up to ~ 16 participants. Heidelberg is the first manufacturer in the print media industry to offer products and solutions through its own local organisation in Afghanistan. The country desperately needs not only trained professionals, but also consumables and machines. Over the years, the changing rulers of the country sought to enrich themselves, going so far as to sell off entire printing facilities to neighbouring Pakistan.- Courtesy Print Process