BY
JAMES VERINI
The
first sign of officialdom you see when you drive from the Kabul airport parking
lot is a government billboard looming above a traffic jam. It's the size of a
highway billboard in the United States, but closer to the ground, so that you
can make out every nuance of the faces on it. Those faces belong to, on the right
of the coat of arms of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, President Hamid
Karzai, and on the left, slain Northern Alliance leader Ahmad Shah Massoud,
dead some 11 years. With Karzai, you note those tired eyes and that child's
chin, unaided by a trimmed gray beard. Massoud comes off vastly more dashing.
He appears to be in conference with the heavens: The eyes smolder from within,
the strong chin and bushy goatee angle out like a divining rod. A pakol, the
traditional hat of the Hindu Kush, sits like a column capital on his head.
The billboard calls to mind a prizefight boxing
poster, and the champ is obvious. It also happens to capture the attitude of
many Afghans and foreigners working here. In the years since Massoud was
assassinated by al Qaeda, just two days before 9/11, and Karzai installed as
Afghanistan's interim president the following summer, their reputations have
moved in inverse proportion. Karzai's popularity has steadily contracted, while
Massoud's legend in Afghanistan has grown. As though he had just been killed
last week, Afghans still talk about what a great president the guerrilla leader
would have made. The implicit slight on Karzai, once dismissed as merely
ineffectual and now as ineffectual, corrupt, and deluded, is obvious. Abroad,
after years of worshipful portrayals of him by foreign reporters and historians, Massoud
has become the Che Guevara of Central Asia. A young Norwegian woman staying in
the same guesthouse as me here went weak in the knees when she learned the
house's driver fought under Massoud. "I want to meet him," she
breathed, referring to the driver, but really meaning the Lion of Panjshir.