Licensed to Kill by Robert Young Pelton

airplanes don’t work well [for surveillance] that high up, and you will know when people are coming. Bin Laden knows the tribal areas very well, and the tribes know him very well.” His answer makes sense but doesn’t quite ring true somehow. Newspapers in Pakistan have been reporting that bin Laden has visited the tribal areas between Gardez and Khost. I would guess that Haji probably has a pretty good idea of bin Laden’s location, but knows that it would be dangerous for an Afghan to possess such information. A close friend of his was sent to Guantanamo Bay for knowing the same people whom Haji knows.
    When asked about Mullah Omar, he responds promptly, “Mullah Omar was in Miram Shah during Ramadan and has now moved to Quetta for the winter.” This time his tone is matter-of-fact. He won’t say how he knows this, but his guess coincides with both Pakistani president Pervez Musharraf’s and Afghan president Hamid Karzai’s statements about Omar and other senior Taliban being spotted at prayers in Quetta.
    Despite having worked with the Taliban, Haji has mixed feelings about their reign in Afghanistan. “I met many times with Mullah Omar and all the other Taliban commanders. They were not educated men. They were not even good Muslims. The Taliban took all the prostitutes to Kandahar, and the Arabs were all screwing around. In time, they considered themselves separate from the people. A foot soldier was more trustworthy than a tribal elder.” Now, he explains, “there are two categories of Taliban: the jihadis, who want martyrdom, and the people who fight for money.
    â€œThe Taliban are not Pashtun. We have dancing. We sing. We make decisions in jirgas [a democratic-style group of representatives].” The Taliban, Haji tells me, has ignored its Pashtun culture by becoming entranced by Wahhabism, Saudi-backed religious extremism. “Afghans do not like Wahhabis. The Taliban relied on other people and lost touch with the Afghan people. That is why, in the end, the Taliban could never be governors, only occupiers.”
    Haji has an equally bleak forecast for the Americans: “I can guarantee you the Americans will not succeed. They rely on people they pay money to. Now they are surrounded by people who want money. They have turned away from the tribal elders and made bad friends.”
    He does not show a preference for either contingency, responding in disgust, “I try not to involve myself with these things.” Though he may hold unspoken preferences, clearly neither has earned his full support, perhaps because both seem to view his role as a tribal elder as irrelevant under the new system.
    I grow to like Haji, and he treats me like a son. He insists that I sit on his right-hand side and urges me to eat the best part of the sheep, not clearing the vinyl mat until I have eaten to his satisfaction. He makes sure I sit on the warmest part of the floor. He pesters me to grow my beard out and tugs at it every day as if that will speed the process. It was Haji’s generosity that had made me want to invite the Contractor to join me for a visit at the compound, though the Contractor’s awkwardness ends up trying Haji’s hospitality.
    At dinner the night we arrive, Haji wants to hear all about my trip. He pushes food directly in front of the Contractor: choice cuts of greasy mutton with fresh bread and a dish—specially prepared by Haji’s wife for the guests—of what appears to be curdled milk with oil poured into it. The new guest keeps his arms folded and mumbles, “Gotta get to ten percent body fat.” Haji makes several attempts before giving up, staring hard at the Contractor, then looking at me with hurt confusion. “Just pretend to eat something and compliment the food,” I tell the Contractor. The Contractor frequently stands up in the middle of the hours-long meal, making excuses about having to shoot some video. When