5 years after the U.S. left, Afghan allies reflect on life under Taliban rule

Geoff Bennett:

We begin a series of stories on Afghanistan tonight that will look at the state of that nation after the American war there ended and 25 years after September 11.

This evening, we have an intimate look at the lives of three people and their families and how they are faring five years after the Taliban wrenched control of the country from the U.S.-supported government.

Special correspondent Leila Molana-Allen and videographer Eric O'Connor, who was in Kabul when it fell, recently returned from Afghanistan and filed this report.

And to note, we have changed the names of all the interviewees in this story for their protection.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Proud, confident, commanding. As the Taliban celebrated five years of rule over Afghanistan, its fighters, mounted on flag-decked military vehicles, paraded through in Kabul a show of force.

August of 2021 saw a more ragged battle parade, as Taliban fighters, fresh from taking the country at lightning speed, rode in triumph to the capital. Just a few weeks before, Afghan National Army soldier Rasool had been fighting these militants hand to hand, stationed in Helmand on the so-called red line, which saw ceaseless fighting and was constantly under Taliban ambush.

He remembers his team rushing to the scene of one too late.

"Rasool," Afghan National Army Veteran (through interpreter): When we arrived, one of our friends had been shot several times in his hands and legs. We took him to the clinic ourselves, but, there, right in front of our eyes, he died. I was deeply heartbroken.

Leila Molana-Allen:

So when they were suddenly told to lay down their weapons and return home, he couldn't believe his ears.

"Rasool" (through interpreter):

We never thought they'd come, change the regime and defeat us. We never even considered not fighting and surrendering to them.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Since his return home, Rasool has lived a half-life in the shadows, avoiding the authorities. ANA soldiers were promised amnesty, but every few days he hears of an old army friend who's been mysteriously killed or disappeared.

In those dark moments, he can't help but ask, what was it all for?

"Rasool" (through interpreter):

They fought for 20 years, and many people lost their lives. If they wanted to surrender and hand over the government, they should have done that from the start to avoid all this.

Leila Molana-Allen:

As Rasool and his comrades surrendered their weapons, panic packed the streets of Kabul.

Tens of thousands of Afghans surrounded the airport, trying to flee in the face of a victorious Taliban, families faint and desperate in the baking August heat, shielding small children at their backs, thrusting foreign passports, visa paperwork, and pleading cardboard signs into the air, willing to try anything to make it through gate after heavily guarded gate to safety to a way out.

Zahra had worked for the U.S. government for years. Within hours, Taliban fighters arrived at her home. Her family hid with a neighbor, awaiting evacuation instructions from her employer. Next morning, she was called to the airport. But when she arrived, she was told her small children couldn't come in. She was there to assist U.S. officials, not to be evacuated.

Forced to send her 5- and 9-year-olds back, she snuck in with her still breast-feeding baby just 3 months old under her headscarf.

"Zahra," Former U.S. Government Employee: I said: "I have to work. This is the only way I can save you all. Otherwise, they will not accept to take us."

And both my kids were hanging on my legs. They were not allowing me to leave. And that's -- still to this day, I feel that numbness in my legs.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Zahra worked 12-hour shifts for five days with little water, shade, food, or rest. Eventually, her baby fell sick with a fever and severe dehydration. Officials told her there were no medics available to treat him. She'd have to board an evacuation flight immediately. "Not without my children," she replied.

"Zahra":

I saw there was a huge line. But my babies are not there. I refused to sit on the plane. And I got screamed, I got yelled by the soldiers, by the military. And I tried to run. He came after me. He pushed me.

I was on the ground with my baby. And then he kicked me. That was the moment I thought, like, they're lying, and my kids are not here.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Five years later, Zahra's little girl and boy are still trapped in Afghanistan. Mina, now 14, is a teenage girl growing up without her mother under a government that bans women from almost everything she imagined her life would be.

That's where your mom is.

"Mina," Daughter of Zahra (through interpreter): I'm afraid of the Taliban. When I see them taking Afghan women, I'm afraid that they will take us too. I feel scared at night when I sleep. And I'm very stressed during the day. I feel so sad and depressed.

Leila Molana-Allen:

She's developed a severe anxiety disorder, struggles to eat, and has constant nightmares.

"Mina" (through interpreter):

I need I need to go to my mother. I miss her, and whenever I think about her, I start crying.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Yes, exactly. I live in the USA.

Mina still dreams of the life in the U.S. that was promised to her.

"Mina" (through interpreter):

I want to go there and build my life. Here, schools are banned, and I can't go anywhere.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Her sick elderly grandmother does what she can, but is struggling. She barely takes the kids outside now.

Meanwhile, in California, Zahra has been fighting on every front. Shortly after they arrived, her baby son developed brain cancer. For seven months, she sat with him in hospital through surgery after surgery, all alone.

"Nasrin," Mother of Zahra (through interpreter): I worry so much. She's alone. My only wish is to see her and hug her. If I did not see her for just one night, I would miss her. But now it's been five years.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Six times, the family has been told their paperwork was processed and they could board a plane to the U.S. Six times, Zahra waited as they were turned back.

"Zahra":

The only thing I know is, I'm waiting for my kids. And that hope is keep me alive. I tried to end my life two times, actually, but realized that they don't have anyone else except me. They need me.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Regret, she says, is the only thing more painful than her broken dreams.

"Zahra":

I worked for this government. I put my life in risk, my family's life in risk. I listened to them. I trusted them. I wish I did not.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Five years later, the Taliban has a firm grip on the capital and most of the country. But new security threats have emerged. The regional branch of ISIS continues to launch terror attacks across Afghanistan. Afghan resistance groups have also hit government-linked targets.

And now members of the disbanded Afghan National Army have announced a fresh offensive against the Taliban. Those who were once the city's attackers are now its defenders. Kabul hasn't been so safe in years. But the increased Taliban patrols and checkpoints have made life for those in hiding from their new leaders riskier than ever.

"Mohammed," Former USAID Worker (through interpreter): These photos are from the night the Taliban released my son.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Mohammed knows what the Taliban is capable of. His family has endured their retribution for working with the U.S. before.

USA?

"Mohammed":

USAID, yes.

Leila Molana-Allen:

In 2015, Mohammed was working for USAID, promoting women's rights in rural areas. Local Taliban fighters saw it as a direct challenge to their values. His 13-year-old son was kidnapped outside their home and tortured for a month. They left the family in no doubt why they'd done it.

"Mohammed" (through interpreter):

They had tortured him severely. It looked as if his entire body had been beaten. They told him, "Because your father works with the Americans, we will kill you." They would send us videos showing them beating him while he was screaming in pain.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Eventually, after Mohammed sold everything the family owned to raise a $50,000 ransom, his son was dumped on the street. He wouldn't regain his sight or hearing for months.

"Mohammed" (through interpreter):

At night he would cry and scream, and he thought he was still with them. Even now, 10 years later, we sometimes see him crying in his sleep at night. He still hasn't fully recovered.

Leila Molana-Allen:

Two men were imprisoned for kidnapping and torturing his son. But when the Taliban took power, they were released. One of them is now a policeman manning a checkpoint in Mohammed's hometown.

"Mohammed" (through interpreter):

One time, I received a call from an unknown number. He asked: "Where are you?" I asked: "Who are you?" He said: "You will recognize me."

We have been living with this stress and fear every day.

Leila Molana-Allen:

At the end of 2024, the family was told their visas had been approved. But then came President Trump's executive order freezing the refugee program. Since then, they have been living in hiding, moving every few months.

"Mohammed" (through interpreter):

The only feeling I have now is hopelessness. Sometimes, I ask myself, why did we work with the Americans for so many years? Why did we stand beside them?

Leila Molana-Allen:

Abandoned by those who promised safety in return for service, those who gave their lives to the old Afghanistan have little left to live for here, a historic peace deal, claims of a safer country for all, unless you're being hunted by the very people in power.

For the "PBS News Hour," I'm Leila Molana-Allen in Kabul, Afghanistan.