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Afghans invite US tourists to visit four years on from fall of Kabul
Afghans invite US tourists to visit four years on from fall of Kabul

Telegraph

time08-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Telegraph

Afghans invite US tourists to visit four years on from fall of Kabul

Americans have been invited to visit Afghanistan as tourists in a promotional video shared on Taliban-linked social media accounts. In the clip, Afghans joked about the country's reputation for terrorism and encouraged US citizens to consider it as a holiday destination. It begins with five armed Afghan men standing behind three kneeling and hooded figures in a manner reminiscent of Islamic State hostage videos. 'We have one message for America,' an Afghan says to the camera. He then pulls the hood from one of the kneeling men, revealing a smiling Caucasian man who gives a thumbs-up and says: 'Welcome to Afghanistan!' The video then shows a man doing pull-ups from the barrel of a destroyed tank, and another swimming in a lake while carrying an assault rifle. In another segment, an M4 rifle is shown, stamped 'Property of US government'. 'Oh, it's not even on safety,' says someone off camera, triggering laughter from others. Western visitors are seen dining at a restaurant and wearing traditional Afghan clothes, before exploring the countryside and being warmly greeted by locals. The video was not officially released by the Taliban, however the group has made efforts to lure visitors and has hosted Western influencers to promote a positive image of the country. Whitney Wright, an American porn star, travelled to the country in March and documented her trip on Instagram. She was seen visiting tourist sights, wearing traditional dress and posing with a rifle. Some Afghan women criticised her visit, describing it as 'fundamentally hypocritical' of the Taliban, which has banned women from education, most jobs and many public places under its strict interpretation of Islamic law. Other influencer visitors included Marian Abdi, a US travel video blogger, who was criticised for allegedly glamorising the Taliban regime. Miles Routledge, a Briton who describes himself as 'the last Great British explorer who goes to the most extreme places on earth', has made multiple trips to the country and was detained by the Taliban for several months in 2023. Despite the Taliban's attempt to depict Afghanistan as a safe and welcoming country, the US government continues to advise against all travel to the country, citing a high risk of terrorism, crime, civil unrest and kidnapping. In 2021, the US embassy in Kabul suspended operations, limiting the ability of the US government to provide routine or emergency consular services. The current US travel advisory for Afghanistan remains at Level Four: Do Not Travel.

Ancient Himalayan village relocates as climate shifts reshape daily life
Ancient Himalayan village relocates as climate shifts reshape daily life

Arab News

time01-07-2025

  • Climate
  • Arab News

Ancient Himalayan village relocates as climate shifts reshape daily life

SAMJUNG: The Himalayan village of Samjung did not die in a day. Perched in a wind-carved valley in Nepal's Upper Mustang, more than 13,000 feet (3,962 meters) above sea level, the Buddhist village lived by slow, deliberate rhythms — herding yaks and sheep and harvesting barley under sheer ochre cliffs honeycombed with 'sky caves' — 2,000-year-old chambers used for ancestral burials, meditation and shelter. Then the water dried up. Snow-capped mountains turned brown and barren as, year after year, snowfall declined. Springs and canals vanished and when it did rain, the water came all at once, flooding fields and melting away the mud homes. Families left one by one, leaving the skeletal remains of a community transformed by climate change: crumbling mud homes, cracked terraces and unkempt shrines. A changing climate The Hindu Kush and Himalayan mountain regions — stretching from Afghanistan to Myanmar — hold more ice than anywhere else outside the Arctic and Antarctic. Their glaciers feed major rivers that support 240 million people in the mountains — and 1.65 billion more downstream. Such high-altitude areas are warming faster than lowlands. Glaciers are retreating and permafrost areas are thawing as snowfall becomes scarcer and more erratic, according to the Katmandu-based International Center for Integrated Mountain Development or ICMOD. Kunga Gurung is among many in the high Himalayas already living through the irreversible effects of climate change. 'We moved because there was no water. We need water to drink and to farm. But there is none there. Three streams, and all three dried up,' said Gurung, 54. Climate change is quietly reshaping where people can live and work by disrupting farming, water access, and weather patterns, said Neil Adger, a professor of human geography at the University of Exeter. In places like Mustang, that's making life harder, even if people don't always say climate change is why they moved. 'On the everyday basis, the changing weather patterns ... it's actually affecting the ability of people to live in particular places,' Adger said. Communities forced to move Around the globe, extreme weather due to climate change is forcing communities to move, whether it's powerful tropical storms in The Philippines and Honduras, drought in Somalia or forest fires in California. In the world's highest mountains, Samjung isn't the only community to have to start over, said Amina Maharjan, a migration specialist at ICMOD. Some villages move only short distances, but inevitably the key driver is lack of water. 'The water scarcity is getting chronic,' she said. Retreating glaciers — rivers of ice shrinking back as the world warms — are the most tangible and direct evidence of climate change. Up to 80 percent of the glacier volume in the Hindu Kush and Himalayas could vanish in this century if greenhouse gas emissions aren't drastically cut, a 2023 report warned. It hasn't snowed in Upper Mustang for nearly three years, a dire blow for those living and farming in high-altitude villages. Snowfall traditionally sets the seasonal calendar, determining when crops of barley, buckwheat, and potatoes are planted and affecting the health of grazing livestock. 'It is critically important,' Maharjan said. For Samjung, the drought and mounting losses began around the turn of the century. Traditional mud homes built for a dry, cold mountain climate fell apart as monsoon rains grew more intense — a shift scientists link to climate change. The region's steep slopes and narrow valleys funnel water into flash floods that destroyed homes and farmland, triggering a wave of migration that began a decade ago. Finding a place for a new village Moving a village — even one with fewer than 100 residents like Samjung — was no simple endeavor. They needed reliable access to water and nearby communities for support during disasters. Relocating closer to winding mountain roads would allow villagers to market their crops and benefit from growing tourism. Eventually, the king of Mustang, who still owns large tracts of land in the area nearly two decades after Nepal abolished its monarchy, provided suitable land for a new village. Pemba Gurung, 18, and her sister Toshi Lama Gurung, 22, don't remember much about the move from their old village. But they remember how hard it was to start over. Families spent years gathering materials to build new mud homes with bright tin roofs on the banks of the glacial Kali Gandaki river, nearly 15 kilometers (9 miles) away. They constructed shelters for livestock and canals to bring water to their homes. Only then could they move. Some villagers still herd sheep and yak, but life is a bit different in New Samjung, which is close to Lo Manthang, a medieval walled city cut off from the world until 1992, when foreigners were first allowed to visit. It's a hub for pilgrims and tourists who want to trek in the high mountains and explore its ancient Buddhist culture, so some villagers work in tourism. The sisters Pemba and Toshi are grateful not to have to spend hours fetching water every day. But they miss their old home. 'It is the place of our origin. We wish to go back. But I don't think it will ever be possible,' said Toshi.

An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over
An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over

Yahoo

time01-07-2025

  • Climate
  • Yahoo

An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over

SAMJUNG, Nepal (AP) — The Himalayan village of Samjung did not die in a day. Perched in a wind-carved valley in Nepal's Upper Mustang, more than 13,000 feet (3,962 meters) above sea level, the Buddhist village lived by slow, deliberate rhythms — herding yaks and sheep and harvesting barley under sheer ochre cliffs honeycombed with 'sky caves' — 2,000-year-old chambers used for ancestral burials, meditation and shelter. Then the water dried up. Snow-capped mountains turned brown and barren as, year after year, snowfall declined. Springs and canals vanished and when it did rain, the water came all at once, flooding fields and melting away the mud homes. Families left one by one, leaving the skeletal remains of a community transformed by climate change: crumbling mud homes, cracked terraces and unkempt shrines. A changing climate The Hindu Kush and Himalayan mountain regions — stretching from Afghanistan to Myanmar — hold more ice than anywhere else outside the Arctic and Antarctic. Their glaciers feed major rivers that support 240 million people in the mountains — and 1.65 billion more downstream. Such high-altitude areas are warming faster than lowlands. Glaciers are retreating and permafrost areas are thawing as snowfall becomes scarcer and more erratic, according to the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development or ICMOD. Kunga Gurung is among many in the high Himalayas already living through the irreversible effects of climate change. 'We moved because there was no water. We need water to drink and to farm. But there is none there. Three streams, and all three dried up,' said Gurung, 54. Climate change is quietly reshaping where people can live and work by disrupting farming, water access, and weather patterns, said Neil Adger, a professor of human geography at the University of Exeter. In places like Mustang, that's making life harder, even if people don't always say climate change is why they moved. 'On the everyday basis, the changing weather patterns ... it's actually affecting the ability of people to live in particular places,' Adger said. Communities forced to move Around the globe, extreme weather due to climate change is forcing communities to move, whether it's powerful tropical storms in The Philippines and Honduras, drought in Somalia or forest fires in California. In the world's highest mountains, Samjung isn't the only community to have to start over, said Amina Maharjan, a migration specialist at ICMOD. Some villages move only short distances, but inevitably the key driver is lack of water. "The water scarcity is getting chronic,' she said. Retreating glaciers — rivers of ice shrinking back as the world warms — are the most tangible and direct evidence of climate change. Up to 80% of the glacier volume in the Hindu Kush and Himalayas could vanish in this century if greenhouse gas emissions aren't drastically cut, a 2023 report warned. It hasn't snowed in Upper Mustang for nearly three years, a dire blow for those living and farming in high-altitude villages. Snowfall traditionally sets the seasonal calendar, determining when crops of barley, buckwheat, and potatoes are planted and affecting the health of grazing livestock. 'It is critically important," Maharjan said. For Samjung, the drought and mounting losses began around the turn of the century. Traditional mud homes built for a dry, cold mountain climate fell apart as monsoon rains grew more intense — a shift scientists link to climate change. The region's steep slopes and narrow valleys funnel water into flash floods that destroyed homes and farmland, triggering a wave of migration that began a decade ago. Finding a place for a new village Moving a village — even one with fewer than 100 residents like Samjung — was no simple endeavor. They needed reliable access to water and nearby communities for support during disasters. Relocating closer to winding mountain roads would allow villagers to market their crops and benefit from growing tourism. Eventually, the king of Mustang, who still owns large tracts of land in the area nearly two decades after Nepal abolished its monarchy, provided suitable land for a new village. Pemba Gurung, 18, and her sister Toshi Lama Gurung, 22, don't remember much about the move from their old village. But they remember how hard it was to start over. Families spent years gathering materials to build new mud homes with bright tin roofs on the banks of the glacial Kali Gandaki river, nearly 15 kilometers (9 miles) away. They constructed shelters for livestock and canals to bring water to their homes. Only then could they move. Some villagers still herd sheep and yak, but life is a bit different in New Samjung, which is close to Lo Manthang, a medieval walled city cut off from the world until 1992, when foreigners were first allowed to visit. It's a hub for pilgrims and tourists who want to trek in the high mountains and explore its ancient Buddhist culture, so some villagers work in tourism. The sisters Pemba and Toshi are grateful not to have to spend hours fetching water every day. But they miss their old home. 'It is the place of our origin. We wish to go back. But I don't think it will ever be possible,' said Toshi. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at

An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over
An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over

The Independent

time01-07-2025

  • Climate
  • The Independent

An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over

The Himalayan village of Samjung did not die in a day. Perched in a wind-carved valley in Nepal's Upper Mustang, more than 13,000 feet (3,962 meters) above sea level, the Buddhist village lived by slow, deliberate rhythms — herding yaks and sheep and harvesting barley under sheer ochre cliffs honeycombed with 'sky caves' — 2,000-year-old chambers used for ancestral burials, meditation and shelter. Then the water dried up. Snow-capped mountains turned brown and barren as, year after year, snowfall declined. Springs and canals vanished and when it did rain, the water came all at once, flooding fields and melting away the mud homes. Families left one by one, leaving the skeletal remains of a community transformed by climate change: crumbling mud homes, cracked terraces and unkempt shrines. A changing climate The Hindu Kush and Himalayan mountain regions — stretching from Afghanistan to Myanmar — hold more ice than anywhere else outside the Arctic and Antarctic. Their glaciers feed major rivers that support 240 million people in the mountains — and 1.65 billion more downstream. Such high-altitude areas are warming faster than lowlands. Glaciers are retreating and permafrost areas are thawing as snowfall becomes scarcer and more erratic, according to the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development or ICMOD. Kunga Gurung is among many in the high Himalayas already living through the irreversible effects of climate change. 'We moved because there was no water. We need water to drink and to farm. But there is none there. Three streams, and all three dried up,' said Gurung, 54. Climate change is quietly reshaping where people can live and work by disrupting farming, water access, and weather patterns, said Neil Adger, a professor of human geography at the University of Exeter. In places like Mustang, that's making life harder, even if people don't always say climate change is why they moved. 'On the everyday basis, the changing weather patterns ... it's actually affecting the ability of people to live in particular places,' Adger said. Communities forced to move Around the globe, extreme weather due to climate change is forcing communities to move, whether it's powerful tropical storms in The Philippines and Honduras, drought in Somalia or forest fires in California. In the world's highest mountains, Samjung isn't the only community to have to start over, said Amina Maharjan, a migration specialist at ICMOD. Some villages move only short distances, but inevitably the key driver is lack of water. "The water scarcity is getting chronic,' she said. Retreating glaciers — rivers of ice shrinking back as the world warms — are the most tangible and direct evidence of climate change. Up to 80% of the glacier volume in the Hindu Kush and Himalayas could vanish in this century if greenhouse gas emissions aren't drastically cut, a 2023 report warned. It hasn't snowed in Upper Mustang for nearly three years, a dire blow for those living and farming in high-altitude villages. Snowfall traditionally sets the seasonal calendar, determining when crops of barley, buckwheat, and potatoes are planted and affecting the health of grazing livestock. 'It is critically important," Maharjan said. For Samjung, the drought and mounting losses began around the turn of the century. Traditional mud homes built for a dry, cold mountain climate fell apart as monsoon rains grew more intense — a shift scientists link to climate change. The region's steep slopes and narrow valleys funnel water into flash floods that destroyed homes and farmland, triggering a wave of migration that began a decade ago. Finding a place for a new village Moving a village — even one with fewer than 100 residents like Samjung — was no simple endeavor. They needed reliable access to water and nearby communities for support during disasters. Relocating closer to winding mountain roads would allow villagers to market their crops and benefit from growing tourism. Eventually, the king of Mustang, who still owns large tracts of land in the area nearly two decades after Nepal abolished its monarchy, provided suitable land for a new village. Pemba Gurung, 18, and her sister Toshi Lama Gurung, 22, don't remember much about the move from their old village. But they remember how hard it was to start over. Families spent years gathering materials to build new mud homes with bright tin roofs on the banks of the glacial Kali Gandaki river, nearly 15 kilometers (9 miles) away. They constructed shelters for livestock and canals to bring water to their homes. Only then could they move. Some villagers still herd sheep and yak, but life is a bit different in New Samjung, which is close to Lo Manthang, a medieval walled city cut off from the world until 1992, when foreigners were first allowed to visit. It's a hub for pilgrims and tourists who want to trek in the high mountains and explore its ancient Buddhist culture, so some villagers work in tourism. The sisters Pemba and Toshi are grateful not to have to spend hours fetching water every day. But they miss their old home. 'It is the place of our origin. We wish to go back. But I don't think it will ever be possible,' said Toshi. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at

An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over
An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over

Associated Press

time01-07-2025

  • Climate
  • Associated Press

An ancient village in the Himalayas ran out of water. Then, it moved and started over

SAMJUNG, Nepal (AP) — The Himalayan village of Samjung did not die in a day. Perched in a wind-carved valley in Nepal's Upper Mustang, more than 13,000 feet (3,962 meters) above sea level, the Buddhist village lived by slow, deliberate rhythms — herding yaks and sheep and harvesting barley under sheer ochre cliffs honeycombed with 'sky caves' — 2,000-year-old chambers used for ancestral burials, meditation and shelter. Then the water dried up. Snow-capped mountains turned brown and barren as, year after year, snowfall declined. Springs and canals vanished and when it did rain, the water came all at once, flooding fields and melting away the mud homes. Families left one by one, leaving the skeletal remains of a community transformed by climate change: crumbling mud homes, cracked terraces and unkempt shrines. A changing climate The Hindu Kush and Himalayan mountain regions — stretching from Afghanistan to Myanmar — hold more ice than anywhere else outside the Arctic and Antarctic. Their glaciers feed major rivers that support 240 million people in the mountains — and 1.65 billion more downstream. Such high-altitude areas are warming faster than lowlands. Glaciers are retreating and permafrost areas are thawing as snowfall becomes scarcer and more erratic, according to the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development or ICMOD. Kunga Gurung is among many in the high Himalayas already living through the irreversible effects of climate change. 'We moved because there was no water. We need water to drink and to farm. But there is none there. Three streams, and all three dried up,' said Gurung, 54. Climate change is quietly reshaping where people can live and work by disrupting farming, water access, and weather patterns, said Neil Adger, a professor of human geography at the University of Exeter. In places like Mustang, that's making life harder, even if people don't always say climate change is why they moved. 'On the everyday basis, the changing weather patterns ... it's actually affecting the ability of people to live in particular places,' Adger said. Communities forced to move Around the globe, extreme weather due to climate change is forcing communities to move, whether it's powerful tropical storms in The Philippines and Honduras , drought in Somalia or forest fires in California . In the world's highest mountains, Samjung isn't the only community to have to start over, said Amina Maharjan, a migration specialist at ICMOD. Some villages move only short distances, but inevitably the key driver is lack of water. 'The water scarcity is getting chronic,' she said. Retreating glaciers — rivers of ice shrinking back as the world warms — are the most tangible and direct evidence of climate change. Up to 80% of the glacier volume in the Hindu Kush and Himalayas could vanish in this century if greenhouse gas emissions aren't drastically cut, a 2023 report warned. It hasn't snowed in Upper Mustang for nearly three years, a dire blow for those living and farming in high-altitude villages. Snowfall traditionally sets the seasonal calendar, determining when crops of barley, buckwheat, and potatoes are planted and affecting the health of grazing livestock. 'It is critically important,' Maharjan said. For Samjung, the drought and mounting losses began around the turn of the century. Traditional mud homes built for a dry, cold mountain climate fell apart as monsoon rains grew more intense — a shift scientists link to climate change. The region's steep slopes and narrow valleys funnel water into flash floods that destroyed homes and farmland, triggering a wave of migration that began a decade ago. Finding a place for a new village Moving a village — even one with fewer than 100 residents like Samjung — was no simple endeavor. They needed reliable access to water and nearby communities for support during disasters. Relocating closer to winding mountain roads would allow villagers to market their crops and benefit from growing tourism. Eventually, the king of Mustang, who still owns large tracts of land in the area nearly two decades after Nepal abolished its monarchy, provided suitable land for a new village. Pemba Gurung, 18, and her sister Toshi Lama Gurung, 22, don't remember much about the move from their old village. But they remember how hard it was to start over. Families spent years gathering materials to build new mud homes with bright tin roofs on the banks of the glacial Kali Gandaki river, nearly 15 kilometers (9 miles) away. They constructed shelters for livestock and canals to bring water to their homes. Only then could they move. Some villagers still herd sheep and yak, but life is a bit different in New Samjung, which is close to Lo Manthang, a medieval walled city cut off from the world until 1992, when foreigners were first allowed to visit. It's a hub for pilgrims and tourists who want to trek in the high mountains and explore its ancient Buddhist culture, so some villagers work in tourism. The sisters Pemba and Toshi are grateful not to have to spend hours fetching water every day. But they miss their old home. 'It is the place of our origin. We wish to go back. But I don't think it will ever be possible,' said Toshi. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at

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