Swimmers make a splash in Kabul

Neither 19-year-old Ali nor 21-year-old Mohammad can swim, but that didn't stop them from making a splash at the opening of Kabul's only public pool last week. "We never had a chance to learn how," they told IRIN. "We're just going to have to make up for lost time." Their enthusiasm, shared by the dozens of young men and boys who joined them, is a breath of fresh air in the war-shattered country. For those who can muster up the US $3 cost of admission - a staggering sum for most - the pool provides a welcome relief as temperatures in the capital rise. But for the vast majority of residents, recreational sport of any type in this funless city of two million is a luxury. Located on the grounds of the Intercontinental Hotel, the pool, like the once grand hotel, has definitely seen better days. After years of neglect, its 20 metre bottom is cracked and peeling - much like the hotel's facade. And given the rusty-green shade of the water, cleaning the pool is still obviously not high on the agenda. Attendants are far too busy monitoring the porous chain-link fence that encircles it for the younger boys who slip through unnoticed. Also, much to their chagrin, some 50 onlookers stand on the hillside taking in the spectacle. "Those boys are so naughty - and so fast," 69-year-old attendant, Sultan, told IRIN. "They'll be sorry if I catch them," he said, stroking his beard firmly. But Sultan's task is a fruitless one. It is quite obvious that there are more swimmers than tickets sold. Even the older, paying boys can be seen showing their "new" friends how to get through. They laugh in unison as Sultan attempts to catch them. During the rule of the Taliban, swimming, like most sport, was either discouraged, frowned upon or outright forbidden under their strict interpretation of Islam. Only last year did the Taliban allow swimming at the pool for the first time - provided appropriate knee length shorts were worn at all times. Women of course were barred entry. But that was last year and a different system. While there are still no girls in sight, one wonders if in this once liberal Muslim city - this too could change. Many of the patrons last week wore western-style swimming trunks or had created their own ad hoc versions from the shirts they were wearing. "You would be surprised what kind of bathing suits I've seen here," Sultan laughed. Prior to the civil war that ripped this nation of 20 million people apart, there were about 10 public pools in the city. Most have either been destroyed, damaged, or are simply inoperable. Others remain closed for the sheer lack of water to fill them. At the nearby Bagh-i-Bala gardens, the former summer palace of Amir Abdur Rahman, workers toil to clean and repaint what was obviously one of the most beautiful pools in the capital. High on a hill beneath the multi-domed building, it's hard to imagine a more serene location. "We want to open it up again in two weeks," the guard told IRIN. "Hopefully the people will return." Meanwhile, back at the hotel pool, the atmosphere is relaxed as an older white-haired Afghan visiting from the United States attempts to show two men in their 20s how to float and tread water. "It's sad. These boys have missed out on so much," he told IRIN. He smiles as he tries to conceal his recognition of a bullet scar on the back of one. Such is the reality of Afghanistan today. Like Mohammad, who cries "Look, I'm a fish, just watch me go," to his friends, the country has to heal its wounds and also has a long way to go.