Kampirak, Afghanistan—Hot wind swishes through the colorful flags that the women of Kampirak raised to mark the spots where anti-Taliban raiders murdered their men ten years ago. Dust eddies in the canals that irrigated the dead men’s orchards and wheat fields before running dry this spring. In the middle of the village, the oldest women of Kampirak chew their lips parched by the long, thirsty hours of Ramadan and evoke the name of god.
They also evoke the Taliban. “Under the Taliban life was good. But the Taliban don’t care about us,” says Zar Bibi, who hennas her gray hair the flame orange of a poppy.