Capturing Kandahar: A Photographer's Journey Through Afghanistan's Ancient City

Kandahar demands preparation beyond the ordinary travel checklist. Before my departure from Quebec, I spent months securing the proper permissions, arranging local guides, and connecting with fixers who understand both the cultural landscape and the practical concerns of a Western photographer.

Security considerations shaped every aspect of my planning. I opted to travel with minimal yet versatile equipment—my travel backpack carried only essential gear while maintaining a low profile. Rather than bringing my full documentary setup, I relied primarily on a mirrorless system with two versatile lenses.

Cultural sensitivity proved equally important as technical preparation. I invested in a pocket translator that handled Pashto and Dari translations remarkably well, though nothing replaced the value of learning basic greetings and photography-related phrases. Understanding local customs regarding photography—particularly of people, religious sites, and government buildings—prevented uncomfortable situations and opened doors that might otherwise have remained closed.

Kandahar's spiritual center, the Shrine of the Cloak of the Prophet Muhammad, became the cornerstone of my visual narrative. This sacred site houses what believers consider a relic of immense significance—a cloak said to have belonged to the Prophet himself. Unlike many religious sites I've documented worldwide, photography inside requires exceptional permission and cultural sensitivity.

I spent three days building rapport with the shrine's caretakers before even mentioning my camera. This patience proved invaluable when I was eventually permitted to photograph during specific hours, under careful guidance. The resulting images captured a devotional atmosphere unlike anything I've witnessed—the play of light through latticed windows, the reverent gestures of pilgrims, the timeless quality of faith made visible.

For the technical aspects, I relied heavily on my light meter to nail exposures in the challenging lighting conditions inside the shrine. The ability to precisely measure available light without intrusive test shots maintained the respectful atmosphere while ensuring technical quality.

If Kandahar's shrines represent its spiritual heart, then its sprawling bazaar embodies its vibrant soul. This labyrinthine marketplace has remained largely unchanged for centuries, offering a visual feast that tests both technical skill and storytelling ability.

The challenges here are numerous—fluctuating light as you move between covered sections and open courtyards, the ethical considerations of photographing vendors and shoppers, and the sheer sensory overload that can overwhelm compositional discipline. I found my lens hood essential for managing flare when shooting toward light sources in the partially covered sections.

Rather than attempting to capture everything, I focused on specific visual narratives: the hands of an elderly carpet weaver demonstrating techniques passed through generations; the geometric precision of spice mounds arranged in kaleidoscopic patterns; the interplay of shadow and light across stalls selling Kandahar's famous pomegranates. These intimate vignettes revealed more about daily life than wider shots ever could.

For audio recording to accompany my images, the discreet recorder proved invaluable, capturing the sonic texture of the bazaar without drawing attention or making subjects self-conscious.

The 19th century Kandahar Citadel (Qala-e-Jadid) stands as a weathered sentinel overlooking the city, its massive walls bearing witness to centuries of conquest, resistance, and resilience. Photographing this architectural monument required navigating both practical challenges and complex historical narratives.

Access to certain areas remains restricted, making advance research and local connections essential. My guide arranged permission for early morning access when the quality of light transformed the weathered mud-brick into a canvas of texture and shadow. For these architectural shots, my graduated ND filters proved essential for balancing exposure between bright skies and shadowed walls.

Rather than focusing solely on the structure's imposing scale, I sought out the human elements that brought its history to life—restoration workers mixing traditional mud plaster using ancient techniques, children playing in the shadow of walls that once repelled invading armies, and the juxtaposition of satellite dishes mounted on centuries-old battlements.

The citadel offers unparalleled elevated views across Kandahar, particularly at sunrise when the city is bathed in golden light and the distant mountains create a dramatic backdrop. For these panoramic shots, I relied on my travel gimbal to create smooth panning video sequences that captured the scale and setting of this ancient city.

Beyond architecture and landscapes, Kandahar's true essence emerges through its people. Creating environmental portraits here required a delicate balance of technical skill, cultural sensitivity, and genuine human connection.

I approached portrait photography as a collaborative process rather than an extraction of images. This meant spending time in conversation (through my interpreter), explaining my project, and often showing subjects previous work on my tablet. The portable photo printer became an unexpected bridge-builder, allowing me to immediately share printed portraits with subjects—a tangible thank-you that transformed many initial hesitations into enthusiastic participation.

Rather than imposing Western portrait conventions, I studied traditional Afghan portraiture and incorporated elements of this aesthetic tradition—particularly the dignified formality and direct gaze found in historical photographs. This approach resonated with older subjects who recognized and appreciated the cultural reference.

My most meaningful images emerged not from planned sessions but from genuine moments of connection: a carpenter inviting me to photograph his workshop after we discussed the similarities between film directing and woodworking; a group of young men proudly showing me their restored vintage motorcycle; an elderly pomegranate farmer demonstrating how he selects the perfect fruit through subtle color variations invisible to my untrained eye.