Silence envelops eastern Afghanistan's biggest city as zealots wage war on music

A CAMPAIGN of bombings aimed at people selling music and films is threatening to close every music shop in eastern Afghanistan…

A CAMPAIGN of bombings aimed at people selling music and films is threatening to close every music shop in eastern Afghanistan’s biggest city.

Owners of music shops in Jalalabad have been hit by 21 bombs in the past year, forcing dozens to close or change their trade in a city renowned for its poetry and song.

Shop owners said they had received no threats before the attacks. The campaign had been denied by the Taliban, who outlawed music during their five-year regime.

However, the shop owners said they suspected religious extremists had gained influence as security in the province of Nangahar continued to worsen.

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Khalil Rehman, a 32-year-old father of three, was sitting on a mat in the back of his shop drinking tea with friends two months ago when an unseen attacker threw a bomb inside.

Five other shops had been hit on the same street in the past year, he said.

“God saved me,” he said pointing out scars on his shins and nose caused by shrapnel. “No one threatened me, no one warned me; the explosion was my warning,” he explained, surrounded by the threadbare remains of his stock and keeping one eye on passersby.

Takings were since down three-quarters he estimated. But the shop was his only source of income and he could not close.

Amirzada Music Centre, his shop, was once flanked by similar traders on Mandawi Gandom street, selling Pashtun songs and the latest Indian or Pakistani movies from Peshawar.

One by one they have closed their steel roller-shutters or switched to selling less controversial merchandise.

While none of the traders spoken to by The Irish Timessaid they had been directly threatened, they blamed a creeping fear and more conservative Islam for silencing Jalalabad.

The Taliban regime which ruled Afghanistan between 1996 and 2001 outlawed music, film and non-religious singing as it imposed its own austere interpretation of Islam.

Windswept spools of audio tape ripped from forbidden music cassettes and hung on checkpoints was one of the abiding images of the time.

Zabiullah Mujahid, a spokesman for the Taliban, has denied waging war on music shops and the campaign seems limited to Jalalabad rather than being nationwide.

Neighbouring cities in Kunar and Laghman province are unaffected.

As security deteriorated, stricter interpretations of Islam were again finding favour locally, said one music seller who declined to be named.

“As the violence gets closer, the mullahs are the first to be approached by the insurgents. They tell them, ‘if you are a true Muslim you will preach against these things’. It feels like selling music is forbidden . . . like selling wine,” he added.

The bombs have mostly been small and placed next to shop shutters in the morning and at night when premises are empty.

The one fatality so far was an eight-year-old boy caught in an explosion as he walked past.

Abdul Ghani Lewani, the 33-year-old head of shopkeepers in the street, said a year ago there had been about 60 music shops in Jalalabad. The city is famed for Pashtun singers and its most famous current exports are Latif Nangahari, Baryalai Samedi and Din Mohammad Ghamkhar.

After the bombing campaign, though, only a dozen remain, Mr Lewani said. A lack of police made the problem worse and many saw the hand of Pakistan, an omnipotent bogeyman for many Afghans, in the attacks.

Pashai Music Centre sold cassettes and CDs until two months ago. The sign has now been taken from the awning and is hanging at the back of the whitewashed shop. It is split from an early morning blast which destroyed much of the stock.

The shop has changed its name to Watan Mobile Sales and rows of cassettes have been replaced by a sparse selection of mobile phone accessories.

“We have no idea who did it and we didn’t have any threats,” said Arifullah Sadaat (23) who ran the shop with his 13-year-old brother Shawkat. “We decided we had to change, but . . . we can’t pay the rent with what we sell now.”

As the shops close, silence is falling over the city, said Mr Rehman. “My house is close by here and two years ago, each night the sound of music was coming from a party or a wedding. Day by day that is finishing.”