News (Media Awareness Project) - Afghanistan: Afghan Farmers Replant Lucrative Opium Poppies |
Title: | Afghanistan: Afghan Farmers Replant Lucrative Opium Poppies |
Published On: | 2001-12-01 |
Source: | St. Paul Pioneer Press (MN) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-25 03:01:33 |
AFGHAN FARMERS REPLANT LUCRATIVE OPIUM POPPIES
KARIZ, Afghanistan -- No one could be more delighted about the departure of
the Taliban regime than the opium poppy growers here in eastern Afghanistan.
In July 2000, the Taliban's leader, Mullah Mohammed Omar, issued an edict
banning poppy cultivation across Afghanistan, then the world's largest
producer of the flower pod used to make heroin.
For years, the Taliban had used taxes on drugs to finance its military.
That changed, however, with Omar's eight-line message. According to a
recent report by the U.N. Drug Control Program, the decree brought raw
opium production in Afghanistan to a virtual halt, dropping from 3,276 tons
to 185 tons in one year.
But now that the Taliban have retreated to the mountains, there is an
eagerness among farmers here in the irrigated lowlands south of Jalalabad,
the capital of Nangarhar province.
Last week, farmer Ahmed Shah and his neighbors were busy fertilizing and
tilling their small plots of land, preparing to plant poppy seeds that will
be harvested next April, processed into heroin in neighboring Pakistan and
delivered to overseas markets.
"I can make 10 times more with poppy than I can with wheat," Shah said as
two teen-age boys turned the soil nearby.
The farmers of eastern Afghanistan are fully aware of the epidemic they
feed with their flowers. They see the hollow-eyed addicts in the bazaars of
Peshawar when they travel to Pakistan.
"We know we are creating addicts," Shah said. "The only reason we are doing
this is because we are poor. If I could find another job, I would stop
growing poppies."
Samsul Haq, deputy director of the Nangarhar Drug Control and Coordination
Office, estimates that before the Taliban edict, 85 percent of the
Jalalabad agricultural economy was driven by opium production.
"This is a great opportunity for poppy growers," Haq said. "The Taliban are
gone. There is confusion about what kind of new order is coming in. The
farmers are free to plant poppies."
Haq said that unless poppy production is checked by massive foreign aid to
provide the farmers with an alternative, Afghanistan is almost certain to
return to its dubious distinction as the world's top supplier by next summer.
The farmers in Kariz, a mud-walled village of 600 families where everyone
grows poppies, see opium as the fastest, surest way out of the wrenching
poverty brought on by more than two decades of war and turmoil.
On one side of the farmland is an irrigation canal built under a 1950s
Soviet foreign aid program. In the distance are two twisted and broken
high-tension towers that date to a time when this area had electricity.
Everywhere are signs of war: carcasses of downed Soviet aircraft and
armored personnel carriers; a military base pocked with huge craters from
more recent U.S. bombing attacks; desiccated groves of olive and orange
trees abandoned more than a decade ago during the mujahedeen fight with the
Soviet-backed government.
Haji Saifuddin, a 60-year-old farmer, has been growing poppies for more
than 20 years on several plots he owns near Kariz. He alternates poppy
planting with cotton, maize and wheat. As he inspected his poppy field
Wednesday, he carried stalks of maize, used here as animal fodder, behind
his back.
"When the Russians returned to their homeland," Saifuddin said, referring
to the 1989 Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan, "I was a refugee in
Pakistan. I started growing poppies when I got back." He said it costs him
about $100 for fertilizer and seed for each "jerib" (about half an acre) of
poppies he cultivates. Saifuddin said his return on each jerib is about
$5,000, a small fortune here.
The Kariz villagers, Persian-speaking members of the Afghan "Arab" tribe
that claims to be descended from Arab traders who traveled and settled here
centuries ago, live modestly in compounds with courtyards planted with
mulberry and date trees.
But a few miles away along another farm road are massive homes that jut up
above high, gated walls with sentry towers on each corner. Haq said these
mansions are occupied by opium traders, Afghanistan's drug barons. Some
were built in the style of modern, Western architecture. One was made from
the traditional adobe but many times grander, appearing on the horizon like
a giant sand castle complete with turrets.
The Taliban ban on poppy cultivation -- instituted four years after the
repressive regime came to power -- had an instant, devastating effect on
the local farmers. Nangarhar province is the second-biggest producer of
opium poppies in Afghanistan, topped only by Helmand province west of the
Taliban spiritual center, Kandahar.
"I took an advance on opium before the ban," Saifuddin said. "I was forced
to sell 12 jeribs of land to pay it back." Another farmer, Abdul Shakoor,
70, said he lost the equivalent of $6,500 because of the ban.
Because of the decree, the Taliban lost much of their support among the
poppy growers. The villagers said there were only two active Taliban
members left in the village.
The farmers are more hopeful about the new political order being created
here. The post-Taliban governor of Nangarhar province, Haji Abdul Qadir,
also served as governor from 1992 to 1996, in what is known as the warlord
period.
Qadir, an educated mujahedeen commander, started out ambitiously with a
staggered program to cut poppy production.
Under promises from Western governments that his province would be given
technical and financial assistance in exchange for opium controls, he cut
poppy production by 25 percent in his first year as governor. But when the
promised foreign aid did not materialize, Qadir became enraged, lecturing a
visiting delegation of international drug experts.
"Next year," Qadir told the drug experts, "our farmers will not only
cultivate poppies in their fields but on the roofs of their homes and in
their flowerpots."
This kind of talk was music to the ears of the farmers of Kariz village.
Earlier this week, several of the local elders, including Saifuddin,
trooped into the governor's mansion in Jalalabad to declare their support
for Qadir.
But uncertainty about the stability of the new order also has them worried.
If the current Nangarhar government -- composed of a triumvirate of three
former mujahedeen commanders, including Qadir -- fails, that might open the
door to rule by a collection of local commanders and warlords.
"Most of the farmers are happy because they now grow poppies," Haq said,
"but they are also fearful that these commanders will steal their income
from opium."
KARIZ, Afghanistan -- No one could be more delighted about the departure of
the Taliban regime than the opium poppy growers here in eastern Afghanistan.
In July 2000, the Taliban's leader, Mullah Mohammed Omar, issued an edict
banning poppy cultivation across Afghanistan, then the world's largest
producer of the flower pod used to make heroin.
For years, the Taliban had used taxes on drugs to finance its military.
That changed, however, with Omar's eight-line message. According to a
recent report by the U.N. Drug Control Program, the decree brought raw
opium production in Afghanistan to a virtual halt, dropping from 3,276 tons
to 185 tons in one year.
But now that the Taliban have retreated to the mountains, there is an
eagerness among farmers here in the irrigated lowlands south of Jalalabad,
the capital of Nangarhar province.
Last week, farmer Ahmed Shah and his neighbors were busy fertilizing and
tilling their small plots of land, preparing to plant poppy seeds that will
be harvested next April, processed into heroin in neighboring Pakistan and
delivered to overseas markets.
"I can make 10 times more with poppy than I can with wheat," Shah said as
two teen-age boys turned the soil nearby.
The farmers of eastern Afghanistan are fully aware of the epidemic they
feed with their flowers. They see the hollow-eyed addicts in the bazaars of
Peshawar when they travel to Pakistan.
"We know we are creating addicts," Shah said. "The only reason we are doing
this is because we are poor. If I could find another job, I would stop
growing poppies."
Samsul Haq, deputy director of the Nangarhar Drug Control and Coordination
Office, estimates that before the Taliban edict, 85 percent of the
Jalalabad agricultural economy was driven by opium production.
"This is a great opportunity for poppy growers," Haq said. "The Taliban are
gone. There is confusion about what kind of new order is coming in. The
farmers are free to plant poppies."
Haq said that unless poppy production is checked by massive foreign aid to
provide the farmers with an alternative, Afghanistan is almost certain to
return to its dubious distinction as the world's top supplier by next summer.
The farmers in Kariz, a mud-walled village of 600 families where everyone
grows poppies, see opium as the fastest, surest way out of the wrenching
poverty brought on by more than two decades of war and turmoil.
On one side of the farmland is an irrigation canal built under a 1950s
Soviet foreign aid program. In the distance are two twisted and broken
high-tension towers that date to a time when this area had electricity.
Everywhere are signs of war: carcasses of downed Soviet aircraft and
armored personnel carriers; a military base pocked with huge craters from
more recent U.S. bombing attacks; desiccated groves of olive and orange
trees abandoned more than a decade ago during the mujahedeen fight with the
Soviet-backed government.
Haji Saifuddin, a 60-year-old farmer, has been growing poppies for more
than 20 years on several plots he owns near Kariz. He alternates poppy
planting with cotton, maize and wheat. As he inspected his poppy field
Wednesday, he carried stalks of maize, used here as animal fodder, behind
his back.
"When the Russians returned to their homeland," Saifuddin said, referring
to the 1989 Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan, "I was a refugee in
Pakistan. I started growing poppies when I got back." He said it costs him
about $100 for fertilizer and seed for each "jerib" (about half an acre) of
poppies he cultivates. Saifuddin said his return on each jerib is about
$5,000, a small fortune here.
The Kariz villagers, Persian-speaking members of the Afghan "Arab" tribe
that claims to be descended from Arab traders who traveled and settled here
centuries ago, live modestly in compounds with courtyards planted with
mulberry and date trees.
But a few miles away along another farm road are massive homes that jut up
above high, gated walls with sentry towers on each corner. Haq said these
mansions are occupied by opium traders, Afghanistan's drug barons. Some
were built in the style of modern, Western architecture. One was made from
the traditional adobe but many times grander, appearing on the horizon like
a giant sand castle complete with turrets.
The Taliban ban on poppy cultivation -- instituted four years after the
repressive regime came to power -- had an instant, devastating effect on
the local farmers. Nangarhar province is the second-biggest producer of
opium poppies in Afghanistan, topped only by Helmand province west of the
Taliban spiritual center, Kandahar.
"I took an advance on opium before the ban," Saifuddin said. "I was forced
to sell 12 jeribs of land to pay it back." Another farmer, Abdul Shakoor,
70, said he lost the equivalent of $6,500 because of the ban.
Because of the decree, the Taliban lost much of their support among the
poppy growers. The villagers said there were only two active Taliban
members left in the village.
The farmers are more hopeful about the new political order being created
here. The post-Taliban governor of Nangarhar province, Haji Abdul Qadir,
also served as governor from 1992 to 1996, in what is known as the warlord
period.
Qadir, an educated mujahedeen commander, started out ambitiously with a
staggered program to cut poppy production.
Under promises from Western governments that his province would be given
technical and financial assistance in exchange for opium controls, he cut
poppy production by 25 percent in his first year as governor. But when the
promised foreign aid did not materialize, Qadir became enraged, lecturing a
visiting delegation of international drug experts.
"Next year," Qadir told the drug experts, "our farmers will not only
cultivate poppies in their fields but on the roofs of their homes and in
their flowerpots."
This kind of talk was music to the ears of the farmers of Kariz village.
Earlier this week, several of the local elders, including Saifuddin,
trooped into the governor's mansion in Jalalabad to declare their support
for Qadir.
But uncertainty about the stability of the new order also has them worried.
If the current Nangarhar government -- composed of a triumvirate of three
former mujahedeen commanders, including Qadir -- fails, that might open the
door to rule by a collection of local commanders and warlords.
"Most of the farmers are happy because they now grow poppies," Haq said,
"but they are also fearful that these commanders will steal their income
from opium."
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