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Life in Kabul goes on, despite the rubble and the noise of construction crews busily putting the city back together. Buses, cars, trucks and bright yellow taxicabs all blow their horns and dodge horse carts in bumper-to-bumper traffic. With traffic signals inoperable, uniformed, whistle-blowing policemen struggle to order the chaotic glut of vehicles.

Huge, brightly painted trucks, largely from Pakistan, bring in goods to fill small shops across the city. Beggars are everywhere. Women in dusty burqas-often war widows-carry sickly looking children, and men on crutches and artificial limbs rush to open car windows with outstretched hands. From street to street, the scene changes. Well-dressed women, wearing light shawls, faces uncovered, scurry in and out of government buildings and shops. In outlying communities and even in the most devastated areas, the noise of school children coming from bullet-pocked buildings signals that some schools are back in session. Young girls clad in neat, black school uniforms laugh along the streets as schools let out for the day.

Rubble piles along the street mark both bomb craters and building sites. Workmen, carpenters and masons hurry to renovate buildings, especially in the parts of town where electrical service is still available. Rents are higher in such neighborhoods. Newspaper photos of bombed out buildings fail to capture the business that goes on amidst the rubble. Leather and craft shops, furriers, tailors, printing presses, computer shops-everywhere looks like business as usual. Boys sell English language newspapers on every street corner. Fresh fruits and vegetables-pomegranates, bananas, melons, radishes, tomatoes and luscious table grapes-are sold from shops and carts.

Kabul is full of contrast. Between sleek Mercedes and Toyota Land Cruisers, a donkey cart or a handcart laden with firewood wends its way through the diesel exhaust fumes. The famous Chicken Street is clogged with tourists and military men (from half a dozen security forces in the area) who buy Afghan carpeting, pottery and clothing. A military man argues with a shopkeeper, wanting his $15 back for the rabbit fur coat he had bought for his wife. The shopkeeper had told him the day before that it was a mink coat. Shopkeepers standing at their doors rush out to jerk into life small generators perched on the curb, to light up the merchandise within when a cluster of buyers appear. Electricity still hasn’t been restored in some parts of town. Some communities will wait for 18 more months to have electricity again.

Despite the progress, much more needs to be done. The war against terrorism may be nearly over, but the task of rebuilding a nation is just beginning.

Wightman Weese, a former editor with Scripture Press and Tyndale House Publishers, and his wife Priscilla live in Wheaton, Ill.

Photos by Wightman Weese