Afghanistan Women's International Team

Kelly Lindsey: Afghanistan women's coach says it is 'life or death' for players

By Mani Djazmi

BBC Sport

Kelly Lindsay (left of back row) has coached Afghanistan women's team since 2016

Spat at, stoned in the street, and having to avoid bombings on the way to training. All because you want to play football.

That is the reality for some of Afghanistan women's international team.

Their coach - retired former USA international Kelly Lindsey - has never set foot in the country because of security concerns.

Some of her players have not even played 11-a-side football before they join up with the national squad, which was formed in 2010.

Yet, in Lindsey's two years in charge, they have climbed from 128th in the Fifa rankings to 106th.

Progress - in spite of the "unique" nature of a job which means all matches and training camps are held overseas for safety reasons.

'It's life and death for those girls'

Lindsey's squad is a mixture of players from the worldwide Afghan diaspora and those who still live in Afghanistan.

Those in Australia, Europe and North America have female role models in the shape of their mothers, many of whom emigrated with their children when their husbands were killed in conflict.

The players who have remained face threats of violence and - just as bad in the eyes of the Afghan culture - risk damaging their family's dignity and reputation.

"It's not easy to get to training," Lindsey, 38, tells the BBC's World Football programme. "They get spat on, they get stoned, there are bombings that happen on the way.

"It's important for the girls outside to understand that this is real. It's not stories. These girls go through it every day."

A recent BBC study found Taliban fighters are openly active in 70% of Afghanistan, directly affecting the lives of 15 million people - half the population. That threatens the freedom women have enjoyed since the regime was overthrown in 2001.

"If a woman is playing football, her father, her brother, her coaches, her mother are being judged by the community around them," says Lindsey.

"Khalida Popal, our programme director... her brother was nearly stabbed to death for allowing his sister to play.

"It's amazing to me that after what they go through every day, they want to play football.

"To put yourself out there for everyone to judge in front of the Taliban - it's life and death for those girls.

"I've thought many times: 'Would I die to play football?' I give them credit every day that they show up to training and that football matters in a life that's so chaotic at times."

Lindsey's long-term aim is for the team to qualify for the World Cup

'They hadn't even played on a full-size pitch'

Lindsey's job is not an easy one.

With training camps held outside Afghanistan, she effectively coaches remotely - by phone and email.

Some of her players had never even stepped on a full-size pitch before joining the squad for this month's friendlies against Jordan, which they lost 5-0 and 6-0.

"We have created a leadership council," Lindsey says.

"We meet every two weeks on the phone to discuss training, nutrition, what's going on with the team, what are they succeeding at and struggling with on and off the field.

"We send out videos, workout packets, and tactical Powerpoints for them to study so that when they come to camp they know what we're trying to do as a team."

When they do meet, Lindsey must go right back to basics.

"Every time they come into camp it's a different group of girls," she says.

"We're not always getting the same group, so we're always teaching the 11-a-side game - the positions, roles, responsibilities - which I think most national coaches take for granted.

"I give our players from outside Afghanistan credit for respecting what we're trying to do and not getting frustrated with us having to re-teach the game."

'The day we qualify, the world will know women's football has changed'

Afghanistan are yet to qualify for their first major tournament, but the team is still in its relative infancy.

And their "mission" - as Lindsey describes it - is bigger than winning football matches.

"All of the girls play with this passion and energy, for the pride of their nation. Although most national teams play with that, these girls recognise the challenges that they face, the unity they need to have and hopefully the future that they bring for young women around the world."

Lindsey says the ultimate ambition is to qualify for the World Cup - but Afghanistan remain outside Fifa's top 100 nations and have few trailblazers to inspire them.

Hosts Jordan will be the only Islamic country in April's Women's Asian Cup, which doubles as a qualifying tournament for the 2019 World Cup.

And while Afghanistan's training camps remain part national team get-together and part taster sessions, their development will, at best, creep along.

Lindsey won't see her players again until June, when they go on a tour of Japan, but she has big ambitions.

"We are building this team to compete, to qualify for the World Cup," she says. "When that will happen, I can't answer.

"We have a lot of work to do - but the only way we're ever going to get there is to play our best and see where we stand.

"The day that we do qualify, the world will know that women's football has changed."

ISIS doesn't have a soul

ISIS.  When will you see that your soul has been consumed?  What are your motives?  Are you fighting a holy war?  Are you bringing justice and freedom?  Are you bringing hope and inspiration?
Or are you a bunch of evil brainwashed idiots who have sold your soul to the devil - killing the innocent?  Killing the children?  Killing the people you should be helping?  Yes.  That is you.  I pity you.  You want recognition.  I do not recognize you.  I pity your pathetic existence. 

4 killed in ISIS attack on Save the Children in Afghanistan

Jalalabad, Afghanistan (CNN)ISIS militants attacked the offices of British aid agency Save the Children in the eastern Afghan city of Jalalabad on Wednesday, killing at least four people and injuring dozens in a 10-hour battle, according to local authorities.

All five attackers were killed.

Save the Children said it has temporarily suspended all Afghan operations after three staff members were killed. Forty-six other employees, who were hiding in a safe room, were rescued.

"We remain fully committed to helping the most deprived children of Afghanistan," Save the Children said in a statement. The global charity, which runs aid programs in 16 of Afghanistan's 34 provinces, reaches almost 1.4 million children in the country.

ISIS claimed responsibility for the attack, which started at 9 a.m. when a suicide bomber detonated a vehicle laden with explosives outside the office gate, according to the media office for Nangarhar province.

Four other assailants stormed the building and were later killed by security forces, said Attaullah Khogyani, a spokesman for the Nangarhar governor.

ISIS' affiliate in Afghanistan claimed responsibility in a statement released by Amaq news agency, the media wing of the terror group.

Images taken as the siege unfolded showed a massive military presence outside the building. Afghanistan's TOLO news channel published footage showing dozens of what it said were Afghan special forces at the scene.

Gunshots were heard ringing out as people appeared to flee.

The wounded were taken to the hospital, Khogyani said.

"Afghanistan is one of the most difficult places in the world to be a child and for humanitarian workers to operate in," said Evan Schuurman, Save the Children's Asia regional media manager, adding that the organization was devastated.

Nicholas Kay, the UK ambassador to Afghanistan, called the attack an outrage and crime against humanity.

"I hope for a quick and safe end to this horrific incident," he said on Twitter.

Ahmad Shah, 29, lives in front of the Save the Children's branch in Jalalabad.

Shah was at home with some guests when they heard a loud boom. All of their windows were damaged, along with the doors. A dozen of them remained huddled inside afterward.

"We don't feel secure as operations are still going on," Shah said.

Shokrullah, who only gave his first name, has a brother who works at Save the Children. He said his brother told him he made it to the safe room with some colleagues.

An uptick in violence has led many organizations to pull out or scale back their footprint in Afghanistan.

The International Committee of the Red Cross announced in October it would reduce its presence in Afghanistan after its staff were targeted multiple times, with at least six Red Cross aid workers killed in February.

The security situation has worsened in the capital of Kabul, where assailants stormed the Intercontinental Hotel on Saturday.

At least 22 people -- 14 of whom were foreigners -- were killed during an hours-long standoff at the hotel, which sits on the edge of town behind checkpoints on a hill.

Afghanistan's Interior Ministry said 153 people were rescued from the hotel.

A reporter for the TOLO news channel, who survived by hiding on a balcony, described horrific scenes of attackers searching for victims room by room and desperate guests jumping from balconies.

The Taliban claimed responsibility for the hotel attack, but some Afghan officials blamed the Haqqani network, which is aligned with the Taliban but based mainly in Pakistan.

Is it time to leave Afghanistan?

'Kabul is a war zone'

Famous actor says it's time to leave

By Nick Paton Walsh, CNN

Updated 9:32 PM ET, Thu February 1, 2018

Kabul, Afghanistan (CNN)Action movie star Massoud Hashimi has a painful cough, but it's not caused by the dirty Kabul air. Hashimi has a Kalashnikov round lodged in his ribcage that he needs swiftly removed.

The operation to remove the bullet from Hashimi's chest is scheduled to take place overseas. The 35-year-old actor has made numerous trips outside of the country, only this time he wishes he didn't have to come back.

For years, Hashimi has been a voice in Afghanistan -- in between the studio lights and theatrical fireworks -- urging its youth to stay in their homeland.

But no longer.

A deadly encounter in the Intercontinental Hotel -- one of several recent attacks to transform the capital into what many say feels like a new frontline in the war -- has changed his message to Afghans to something starker: Get out while you can.

"Kabul is not safe for anybody ... There is no hope. I am not feeling secure even inside my house," he says pointing around his apartment.

"Now Kabul has changed into a war zone, not a civil society for people to live in. Every night I wake up in the middle of the night."

Hashimi was discussing film projects in the hotel's luxurious salon when the violence he was used to seeing in staged productions became very real.

"I saw a German woman, very calmly listening to the music," he recalls. "They first shot that lady. It's really hard to see someone killing people in front of your eyes. It's unbelievable, unimaginable."

The gunmen calmly moved through the salon, shooting dead in front of him two of his friends. A bullet struck him in the chest.

When the lights went out, Hashimi used his knowledge of the hotel's layout to guide others into a dark room away from the fighting. Once there, the group threw their cellphones away, so their vibrations, ringtones and lights wouldn't give them up, and waited for help. For three hours.

"We all kept silent in a corner. I was bleeding, horribly bleeding. It's very hard, you see your death is coming to you."

The Afghan special forces then arrived. The commandos, recognizing Hashimi, held their fire as he and 14 others emerged from their hiding place.

Hashimi shifts awkwardly in his seat: "One bullet here," he says, pointing at his ribcage. "But a long time ago, another bullet was in my leg. So, it's two gifts that Afghanistan gave me".

Now he wants out. Surgery to remove the bullet in the Turkish capital of Istanbul first, and then perhaps America. Stark words from a man who once implored other Afghans -- even on US radio in Washington D.C. -- to stay, build and fight.

"Most people welcomed me that I was encouraging people to stay in Afghanistan," he says.

"But I'm not saying that again because I feel guilty if I do it publicly. I am a famous person, so if I say something people may just accept it."

Outside, the still Kabul air belies what should be the bustle and chaos of rush hour.

The decision by many to stay off the streets of Kabul follows a bloody 9-day period in which the Taliban attacked the hotel, ISIS hit a children's charity in the east of the country, the Taliban used an ambulance as a suicide car bomb to kill over a hundred, and ISIS attacked a secure military academy.

To some, the week of violence was a watershed moment. For US President Donald Trump, it was a reason to set aside, temporarily at least, a key tenet of the US military strategy: The idea of talks with the Taliban. The Afghan government has agreed, saying the attacks had crossed "red lines."

Political negotiations have remained a far-fetched prospect throughout the insurgency, but the open dismissal of them now has led many in Kabul to conclude that the situation is likely to worsen.

We are still in a bleak midwinter, with the violence of the summer months far off. Yet already the city is at times panicked, at times deserted, struggling to adapt to its new, frontline status.

Checkpoints and barriers provide a veneer of security. One near Abdul Haq Square appears most interested in checking cars with government plates. It's unclear if intra-government rivalries are at play, or if there is a genuine fear insurgents are disguising themselves as police.

At the checkpoint, soldiers demand documents. The arrival of one SUV sees soldiers rip out some police-style emergency siren lights from the car's front grill, crushing them underfoot.

Another SUV with black government plates is detained until it proves its association with a regional governor. But this is the nature of trust here in Kabul: there is little.

You can see why outside the Jamariyat Hospital, where days earlier one of the most vicious bombs the city has seen was detonated.

The bomb was in an ambulance. The vehicle passed the first checkpoint, and then loitered in the hospital car park for 20 minutes, hoping to avoid suspicion before then trying to pass another checkpoint into the more secure areas.

Now the patients at the hospital cannot be brought in by car: ambulances are banned unless the drivers are personally known to the staff.

Kabul's sick are hand-carried by relatives into a building whose windows were blown out by the blast.

A city that was once a safe sanctuary struggling, day by day, with less and less.