At the point when you show up at Kabul International Airport, the primary thing you notice is the ladies, dressed in earthy colored scarves and dark shrouds, stepping travel papers.

A runway, which one year prior was the location of a terrified tide of individuals frantic to get away, is presently a lot calmer and more clean. Columns of white Taliban banners shudder in a mid year’s breeze – bulletins of the old popular countenances have been covered up.

What lies past this entryway to a country which was flipped around by a quick Taliban takeover?

Kabul, where ladies are told to give their responsibilities to men
The messages are surprising, no doubt.

“They believe I should give my responsibility to my sibling,” thinks of one lady on an informing stage.

“We acquired our situations with our experience and training… assuming we acknowledge this it implies we have sold out ourselves,” proclaims another.

I’m plunking down with a couple of previous senior government employees from the money service who share their messages.

They’re important for a gathering of in excess of 60 ladies, numerous from the Afghanistan Revenue Directorate, who joined together in the wake of being requested to return home last August.

They say Taliban authorities then, at that point, told them: Send CVs of your male family members who can go after your positions.

“This is my work,” demands one lady who, similar to all ladies in this gathering, restlessly requests her personality to be covered up. “I worked with such a lot of trouble for over 17 years to land this position and finish my graduate degree. Presently we are back to nothing.”

On a call from outside Afghanistan, we’re joined by Amina Ahmady, previous chief general of the Directorate.

She’s figured out how to leave, yet that is not an exit plan all things considered.

“We are losing our character,” she regrets. “The main spot we can keep it is in our own country.”

Their gathering’s amazing title – “Ladies Leaders of Afghanistan” – invigorates them; what they need is their positions.

They’re the ones who held onto new spaces for training and open positions during twenty years of worldwide commitment which finished with Taliban rule.

Taliban authorities say ladies are as yet working. The people who do are essentially clinical staff, instructors and security laborers including at the air terminal – spaces where ladies successive.

The Taliban likewise underline that ladies, who once held about a fourth of the public authority’s positions, are as yet being paid – though a little part of their compensation.

A previous government worker lets me know how she was halted in the city by a Talib watch who censured her Islamic head cover, or hijab, in spite of the fact that she was completely covered.

“You have more significant issues to settle than hijab,” she shot back – one more snapshot of ladies’ assurance to battle for their freedoms, inside Islam.

Fears of starvation weigh on rustic Ghor
The scene appears to be ideal. Stacks of brilliant wheat sparkle in a late spring’s sun in the far off focal good countries of Afghanistan. You can hear a delicate lowing of cows.

Eighteen-year-old Noor Mohammad and 25-year-old Ahmad continue to swing their sickles to get a leftover fix free from grain.

“There’s considerably less wheat this year in view of dry spell,” Noor comments, sweat and soil marking his young face. “Be that as it may, it’s the main work I could find.”

A collected field extends into the distance behind us. It’s been 10 days of backbreaking work by two men in the prime of their life for what might be compared to $2 (£1.65) a day.

“I was concentrating on electrical designing however needed to exit to help my family,” he makes sense of. His lament is unmistakable.

Ahmad’s story is similarly as agonizing. “I offered my motorbike to go to Iran however I was unable to look for a job,” he makes sense of.

Occasional work in adjoining Iran used to be a response for those in one of Afghanistan’s most unfortunate area. In any case, work has evaporated in Iran as well.

“We invite our Taliban siblings,” Noor says. “However, we really want an administration which offers us chances.”

Prior that day, we lounged around a sparkly pine table with Ghor’s common bureau of turbaned men situated close by Taliban Governor Ahmad Shah Din Dost.

A previous shadow delegate lead representative during the conflict, he roughly shares every one of his troubles.

“This large number of issues make me miserable,” he says, posting neediness, terrible streets, absence of admittance to clinics and schools not working as expected.

The finish of the conflict implies more guide organizations are currently working here, remembering for locale too far out previously. Recently, starvation conditions were identified in two of Ghor’s most far off areas.

In any case, the conflict isn’t over for Governor Din Dost. He says he was detained and tormented by US powers. “Try not to give us more agony,” he states. “We don’t require help from the West.”

“For what reason is the West continuously meddling?” he requests. “We don’t address how you treat your ladies or men.”

In the days that follow, we visit a school and a lack of healthy sustenance center, joined by colleagues.

“Afghanistan needs consideration,” says the Taliban’s young college taught Health Director Abdul Satar Mafaq who appears to sound a more even minded note. “We need to save individuals’ lives and it doesn’t have to include governmental issues.”

I recall everything Noor Mohammad said to me in the wheat field.

“Destitution and starvation is likewise a battle and it’s greater than the gunfights.”

Star understudy shut out of class in Herat
Eighteen-year-old Sohaila is effervescing with energy.

I follow her down an obscured flight of stairs into the storm cellar floor of the ladies just market in Herat, the old western city long known for its more open culture, its science and imagination.

It’s the primary day this marketplace is open – the Taliban covered it last year, Covid-19 the prior year.

We peer through the glass facade of her family’s dress shop which isn’t prepared at this point. A line of sewing machines sits in the corner, red heart inflatables swing from the roof.

“A decade prior, my sister began this shop when she was 18 years of age,” Sohaila tells me, sharing a case history of her mom and grandma’s sewing of brilliantly designed conventional Kuchi dresses.

Her sister had likewise opened a web club and a café as well.

There’s a calm murmur of action in this ladies’ just space. Some are loading their racks, others meddling as they wait over gems and weaved clothing.

The premises are dreary, yet in this misery, there’s a shaft of light for ladies who’ve invested really quite much energy simply sitting at home.

Sohaila has one more story to share.

“The Taliban have shut the secondary schools,” she comments, matter-of-truth, about something that has tremendous ramifications for youthful aggressive young people like her.

Most optional schools are closed, on orders of the Taliban’s top traditionalist pastors, despite the fact that numerous Afghans, including Taliban individuals, have called for them to re-open.

“I’m in grade 12 – on the off chance that I don’t graduate I can’t go to college.”

I find out if she can be the Sohaila she needs to be in Afghanistan. “Obviously”, she proclaims unhesitatingly. “It’s my nation and I would rather not go to another country.”

Be that as it may, a year without school probably been hard. “It’s not simply me, it’s every one of the young ladies of Afghanistan” she comments apathetically.