Yaroslav Trofimov reports:

Clad in body armor and helmets, Uzbekistan’s border guards took positions in the middle of the bridge spanning the wide Amu Darya river on Monday morning, examining the papers of a handful of Afghans coming their way. Beyond them, the Taliban’s new Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan began.

A small minivan, carrying me and three Afghan men heading home, pulled up by the customs office on the Afghan side of the river. A white Taliban flag flew above the compound. The Uzbek driver shook his head, puzzled about why anyone would go back to Afghanistan, and took off after collecting his $5 payments.

It has been only three weeks since an Italian military plane flew me out of Kabul, the morning after the government of President Ashraf Ghani collapsed and the Taliban took over the country. The Islamist movement, eager to secure international recognition and a resumption of aid, has since said it welcomes foreign reporters. With no passenger flights into the country, the only way in currently is overland, usually via Uzbekistan or Pakistan.

At the Hairatan border, the Taliban hadn’t yet gotten around to removing the signboards of the fallen Afghan republic, or even replacing the entry stamps. But a large, bearded Taliban official, with flowing long hair, occupied the immigration office on Monday. He didn’t read English, and so, after thumbing my passport, seemed concerned and asked “Name?” Unconvinced by the answer, he flicked through the pages.

His eyes shone with delight as he found a United Arab Emirates residence visa, with the name spelled in the Arabic script, largely the same as the one used in Afghanistan’s two languages. He copied it into the handwritten ledger, stamped the passport, and waved his hand in a welcome to the Islamic Emirate. There was no cumbersome biometric collection that the Afghan republic’s border control used to perform.

Outside, on the road to northern Afghanistan’s biggest city of Mazar-e-Sharif, some things seemed unchanged. The driver played Bollywood hits, unbothered by the Taliban’s new prohibitions on music. Inside Mazar-e-Sharif, there was still a giant mosaic portrait of Ahmad Shah Massoud, the leader of the anti-Taliban Northern Alliance who was assassinated by al Qaeda in 2001—and whose son’s forces attempting resistance were routed in the Panjshir Valley overnight.

At the checkpoints, Taliban fighters—many of them in their late teens, and all of them seemingly giddy with their unexpectedly swift victory—were soft-spoken and polite, asking forgiveness for having to look into the trunk. Only one of them asked to open the suitcase, more out of curiosity about what items a foreign suitcase may contain than security considerations. [Continue reading…]