By Zeyar Alokozai
KUNDUZ, June 30, 2025 – Assigned by Omid Radio, I set out to cover the Wakhan National T20 Cup 2025, hosted from June 28 to July 7 at Kunduz Cricket Ground. Organized by the Afghanistan Cricket Board (ACB), the tournament is more than a series of matches—it is a lens into the soul of a nation where cricket is not just a game, but a symbol of unity, resilience, and hope.
The Road to Kunduz from Balkh
I had clearance from the ACB and filled out the official stadium access form sent by the Kunduz Department of Information and Culture. After my morning prayer, I left home at 7:00 AM, stopping briefly to prepare myself and gather my gear.
By 9:30 AM, I was on a public transport vehicle bound for Kunduz. Just outside Mazar-i-Sharif, a message came through: there would be a press conference at the cricket ground, but the time was unspecified, and the signal dropped soon after.
Then came the first delay: a flat tire in Khulm district, and no air in the emergency tank. Bystanders tried to help, but the compressor wouldn’t start. A fellow passenger left for another car—I followed, desperate not to miss the event.
Moments later, another car’s tire blew. We lent them our spare and pushed on, the minutes bleeding into anxiety. I reached Kunduz by afternoon, checked into a hotel, and was finally told: the press conference would be held at 4:45 PM. I exhaled.
First Impressions
That evening, I stepped into the Kunduz Cricket Ground for the first time. Team captains gathered. Cameras clicked. Voices rose. The press conference began.
When my turn came, I asked about youth development in cricket. Speaking directly to national players—role models to millions—was humbling. Their responses were hopeful, grounded in vision.
Back at the hotel, I drafted and filed my report by 8:30 PM.
Inside the Game
The next morning, I arrived at the stadium at 9:00 AM. Fans were already gathering, faces lit with excitement. The ACB spokesman, Sayed Naseem Sadat, granted me an exclusive interview. He spoke candidly about the growth of cricket in Afghanistan and its future in the north.
After the match, I interviewed Nangyal Kharoti, captain of the winning side. He called the tournament a cornerstone for domestic cricket.
In the stands, I met a man who’d shut his shop to watch Shehzad Mohammadi play, and another who demanded more investment in Kunduz cricket. Their passion was fierce, their voices real.
Later, I interviewed Arab Momand, a debutant who had taken four wickets. He was beaming. “We need more tournaments like this,” he said.
The highlight of my day came when I sat down with Najibullah Zadran, one of Afghanistan’s cricket icons. He spoke not just of his personal journey, but of his belief in cricket as a tool for national unity.
I also spoke with Zubair Akbari, a promising young player, about his aspirations and journey.
Deadlines and Darkness
At 1:30 PM, drained from the heat, I stepped out for lunch, returning to the hotel just in time to receive another request from the central office: submit a new report by 3:40 PM.
I rushed. Edited clips. Recorded narration. Then—the power cut. A delay I couldn’t afford. But the electricity returned just in time. By 4:00 PM, my report was complete and dispatched.
The Roar of a Nation
Back at the stadium by 4:30 PM, the atmosphere had turned electric. Spectators waved signs and chanted slogans. A cricket ground in Kunduz had become the beating heart of Afghanistan.
As the match ended, I tried to interview the players. Exhausted by the heat, they declined. I was turning to leave when I spotted the President of the Afghanistan Cricket Board.
I requested an interview—he agreed.
Our conversation centered on the future of cricket in Afghanistan’s northern provinces. His words echoed a message of commitment and belief: cricket is not just thriving in Kabul or Kandahar—but in Kunduz, Badakhshan, Takhar, and beyond.
Reflections
This assignment was never just about scores or statistics. It was a journey through obstacles and breakthroughs, dust roads and roaring stadiums, small gestures and grand visions.
What I witnessed in Kunduz wasn’t just cricket. It was a nation reaffirming its identity, one boundary, one cheer, and one dream at a time.
As I returned to my room that evening, the final line of my notebook read:
“Cricket is Afghanistan’s second heartbeat—unshakable, unifying, and endlessly hopeful.”
Translated and edited by Saeedullah Safi
