Original subtitles

Hello and welcome to Global Eye from the BBC World Service.

Each week, we bring our most compelling journalism,

from ground-breaking and exclusive investigations

to remarkable human stories from around the world.

I'm Mahjooba Nowrouzi, BBC senior journalist,

and this week we are in Afghanistan.

Coming up on the programme,

BBC Eye goes inside Afghanistan's Taliban government,

with rare access to senior officials.

And we will bring you the inspiring story

of the Afghan women's football team

back on the international stage after a historic Fifa rule change.

My dream now is to have a free country,

and be able to travel back home.

I was born in Afghanistan,

and I have been covering this country for many years.

But since 2021, my work has been shaped by constant barriers.

As a female journalist,

officials from the Taliban government

often refuse to speak directly to me or share the same camera frame.

I face restricted access to locations,

rigid dress codes, the need for a male companion,

and the requirement for work permits.

Even speaking with people on the street

can bring unwanted questioning from security

or intelligence personnel.

These challenges are routine now,

yet they have strengthened my resolve

to give voice to the realities of life in Afghanistan.

My recent reporting has focused on Afghan women's resilience

under growing restrictions.

Their stories have reinforced the importance

of bearing witness to both the challenges people face

and the resolve they show in overcoming it.

Later in the programme,

I will bring you the extraordinary story

of Afghan women's football team in exile.

But first, few journalists have been granted the kind of access

that my colleague, Kawoon Khamoosh,

has secured inside Afghanistan's Taliban leadership.

He followed senior figures

as they navigated the shift from insurgency to government,

offering a rare insight into the men now shaping the country's future.

This is his film.

After 20 years of conflict,

the Taliban emerge as Afghanistan's new rulers.

This was a huge moment for Zabihullah Mujahid.

As the Taliban's chief spokesman,

he had been a target for Afghanistan and US forces.

For over two decades, he operated in the shadows.

Now that the Americans are gone,

he can show his face in public for the first time.

Now his base is this press centre

the Americans built for the previous government.

Like much of Afghanistan, the media has undergone drastic changes

in the last five years.

Almost every journalist I've met told me

that they were summoned or questioned

by the intelligence.

Why that's happening?

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

One of the media channels that has seen a dramatic shift

is Tolo TV -

one of the biggest and most influential in the country.

It was once filled with music...

...entertainment...

...and news programmes that criticised the Taliban.

Now it is subjected to editorial restrictions by the Taliban.

Recently, the Taliban arrested two presenters of Tolo TV

and held them for two weeks.

Today, Zabihullah Mujahid is here to meet with them.

This isn't Zabihullah Mujahid's first run-in with Tolo TV.

SIRENS BLARE

Ten years ago, the Taliban sent a suicide bomber

to target Tolo TV staff.

7 people were killed and 25 wounded.

As the Taliban's spokesman, he defended the attack.

Survivors of the attack on Tolo TV

are too afraid to appear in the media.

But one man who suffered life-changing injuries

in the Tolo bombing told me that he will never forgive or forget.

SIREN WAILS

The Taliban suicide attacks killed thousands in Afghanistan,

including many civilians.

Two years ago, we went to see

the man responsible for some of those bombings.

Habibullah Badr is in charge of this prison.

He was on death row here, waiting to be executed,

when the Taliban took power.

He turned from being a death row prisoner...

...to a prison boss.

Habibullah Badr is eager to talk about

how the previous government treated Taliban prisoners.

But he doesn't seem interested

to talk about what led to his imprisonment.

This city was a traditional stronghold against the Taliban.

Now that the Taliban are in power,

they are trying to show that they are not just insurgents.

Abdullah Sarhadi is the local governor.

He's a former prisoner in Guantanamo Bay

and is highly respected and revered by the Taliban.

We are given unprecedented access to film his daily meetings

with local people, who come to him with their problems.

PHONE RINGS

Recently, the Taliban banned smartphones

for government employees.

It has slowed down the governor's work.

Although he is allowing us in, he doesn't want everything recorded.

He wraps up most of his meetings quickly,

sometimes between two sips of tea.

But one case dominates the governor's day.

It's a divorce issue involving an 18-year-old woman.

To protect her identity, we have had someone else voice her words.

In Sharia, if a woman initiates divorce,

she may have to repay the dowry her husband gave her.

I am astonished by what I just witnessed.

This brave woman knows her rights

and it's making it difficult for the governor.

This is the Taliban's power base, Kandahar,

where the supreme leader, Hibatullah Akhundzada, is based.

And that's why it is seen as the de facto capital.

It's where I meet Zabihullah Mujahid again,

the Taliban's chief spokesman.

He is a hotline to the Taliban's leader

and now spends much of his time here in Kandahar.

During the war,

this entire area used to be on the front line.

He seems to miss the years in hiding and using a fake name.

But now settled in power, he makes a huge decision -

to reveal his true identity for the first time.

Many senior Taliban figures, who spent years in the shadows,

now display the same confidence.

While these senior leaders operate freely,

those who oppose them have gone into hiding,

especially women, who have been erased from public life.

SHOUTING

GUNFIRE

When they do fight back...

...they face harsh crackdowns.

Back in Sheberghan City, the governor has now heard all sides

involved in the 18-year-old woman's divorce case,

including her husband, who wants five times the dowry.

It is $30,000.

Upon returning to power five years ago,

the Taliban said they have changed.

But it's a country run by men, for men.

And you promised that you will respect human rights.

You will allow women to participate in all aspects of life,

work and study. Why did you fail to keep your promise?

It is two years since I last met Habibullah Badr,

the prison boss and former suicide bombing planner.

Today he is receiving an award

at a tribal gathering for his services to the country.

An awkward moment for the crowd here.

They didn't expect him to raise such a sensitive topic.

We take a drive through Kabul in an armoured car,

the type of vehicle used by previous government officials

to protect them from the kind of bombings he used to plan.

I remind him of the list of Taliban suicide attacks

where civilians were killed, but he changes the topic.

Back in his luxurious home,

now that he is no longer in charge of prisons,

he is willing to discuss his past.

The Taliban's position is one of isolation.

More than two thirds of people are unemployed.

And the US has frozen billions of dollars of the country's assets.

Afghanistan has a history of political upheavals.

It's not clear how long the Taliban can last.

But the biggest threat to their survival

is from within the Taliban themselves.

The erosion of women's rights under the Taliban government

means, today, Afghan women face

some of the world's most severe restrictions.

They are barred from secondary school and university.

They must cover their faces and bodies in public.

They are forbidden from making direct eye contact

with men who are not close relatives.

And they are prohibited from playing sport or competing in events.

But against all odds,

Afghanistan's women's football team in exile

has found a way back onto the international stage.

Earlier this year, FIFA gave permission

for them to represent Afghanistan in official competitions,

without requiring the approval of the Taliban government.

For the BBC Global Women,

I have been following their remarkable journey.

The players have flown from all over the world to meet in New Zealand.

It's the first time they have all been together

in over seven months,

and it is their chance to begin competing

for a spot on the national squad.

Do you like it? Yeah. It's nice. It's really nice

to have our three colours on our chest.

Perfect. OK. Can I get you to...?

Najma, who has travelled from Doncaster in England,

where she now lives, is trying on the new kit for the first time.

It's something very rare and special not being able to...

You're playing for your country but you are not in your country.

It's been five years. We are getting older and older

and we haven't got a new generation.

Good.

I was bullied throughout high school

and football gave me the confidence to be who I am today

and to be able to speak loud.

So I don't know where I would be!

Two, three, go.

Mursal, who has been living in Melbourne,

has accessorised her kit with her nails.

Nice!

I wanted to use this platform

to advocate for the women of Afghanistan

who haven't been allowed to study for the past five years.

Obviously the book and the flags and the date, August 15th,

the date that Afghanistan fell.

My dream now to have a free country and be able to travel back home.

The team start their training camp

to prepare for their first match since the rule change,

against the Cook Islands at the end of the week.

Three, two, one! Afghanistan!

Whenever I find myself in a dark situation,

I think about it and I'm like,

"Girl, right now, you're the light for women back home.

"So don't give up. Keep burning."

UNTRANSLATED SPEECH

Mursal fled from Afghanistan to Australia in 2021,

and has been there ever since.

She hasn't seen her family in person since she left the country.

In August 2021, the airport was not like an airport.

The first gate - when I went with my mum,

they put a gun towards me. It was like, "Where is your man?"

I was panicking and my mother said that,

"Oh, our men made it inside the airport.

"We were left outside and we got separated."

So she handled the situation.

And that's when I had my best friend, Rasia,

who is also part of the team, and she was 17 at the time -

that's when I broke down.

Literally, like, I put my head on her shoulders -

I remember - and I started crying. I was like, "This is the end."

I think for me, every time, it's very hard

to talk about, like, Afghan women and girls

because I feel very privileged and...

Do you feel guilty?

I feel guilty.

It's like you're not doing enough.

You need to work harder, twice as others, to...

...to be proud, I think.

Sometimes my parents are saying like,

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself."

But I'm like, "I should put the pressure."

OK, ladies, it's officially game day.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

UNTRANSLATED SPEECH

Enjoy. Oh, yeah. That's the point. Keep the ball as long as you want.

Three. Two. One, Afghanistan!

WHISTLE BLOWS

We want to win the game. Just visualising the positivity!

Despite playing their hardest, the team lose the game.

With the result that we got,

obviously we're very disappointed with the result, that 3-0.

Girls, I'm so proud of our young players who played today.

Very great game. Don't cry. Don't put your heads down.

It's more than football for us.

You have loads of things on your shoulders,

so be mindful of that and you're giving your best, OK?

I'm proud of...

Being able to represent your country is the greatest honour,

but if I don't make it to the squad,

of course I will be disappointed and sad.

And it's natural, I think.

But I would be proud of the team and proud of myself

that I was part of the journey

and we made the history by being the first football team

to get our recognition without the approval of the Taliban.

We don't know when we're going to see each other again,

but it's just always amazing to have this second family.

One. Two. Three. Afghanistan!

Thanks for joining me in Afghanistan.

We will be back in two weeks. Goodbye.