Life

In the south-eastern city of Khost, the everyday business of the Taliban administration carries on across the street from the fortified, government-run city court and police station.

The head ofthe Haqqani network's civilian administration and his assistant hold their council in the grand mosque, which is also known as the Haqqani mosque because it was built with Taliban and Arab money.When I met them, the two men – a frail-looking 60-year-old and his younger sidekick – gave the impression of being haggard peasants seeking work in the city rather than members of one of theorganisations most feared by Britain and America.

Worshippers at the mosque greeted the Haqqani representatives with a mix of reverence and anxiety, some walking in a long circle to avoid them while otherscame forward and shook hands, pledging contributions for the movement. The mosque leader begged them to be his guests for the night.

"The resistance is stronger and bolder today," the old man said."A few years ago the Taliban could move only at night.

"Now that our land has been liberated – thanks be to God – we walk around in the middle of the day and we fight in front of the people. Wecontrol our lands and our villages while [the Americans] can only come in by air."

The administrator was laden with messages to deliver. Among his many roles as a senior member of the civilianadministration, the most important is as a conduit to the higher Taliban authority of Sirajuddin Haqqani and his base in the border region between Khost and Pakistan.

The old man carries edicts from theleadership in one direction and petitions and complaints in the other.

When the Taliban ruled in Kabul in the 1990s they closed schools, stopped women working and exposed themselves to ridicule bybanning trivial pursuits such as kite flying.

Yes, the Taliban had made mistakes in the past, he admitted, and they were still making them. "Our men still do things that annoy the people, and that...