Broken magic of Afghanistan

It's been nearly two years since I went to Afghanistan. What really sticks in the mind is what a magical place it is - or rather was.

There's a place just north of Kabul, on the other side of the Shomali Plains, called Reggie Rouan - the Returning Sands.

We were told by locals that ten years ago if you filled a bottle with the red sands, took it home and put it under your pillow, in the morning the bottle would be empty as the Returning Sands would have done just that in the night - returned to Reggie Rouan.

I started to fill mine. 'No, no, no,' I was told, 'For the past ten years the sands have stopped returning as a consequence of the devastating bloodshed of our people.'

So instead I took a photograph of 17 children at the foot of the sands: barefoot, hungry, eyes dim and faces crusty with malnutrition. After I'd taken it, one ragged boy shouted something which made all the other children laugh: 'What good is it my photograph going to Inglestan? It should be me.'

For most people, living in Afghanistan is hell on earth. It was uncomfortable being there as many of them (two years ago anyway) seemed to blame the British presence for making a bad situation worse.

Last week saw the 100th British serviceman killed in Afghanistan. An indescribable tragedy. But nothing compared to the Afghan toll. If you were looking at it human for human, you'd think we were winning.

Call me naïve but withdrawal seems the only way. So I can't help feeling thrilled by Barack Obama's victory as Democratic candidate in America. Barack for President: it seems unlikely us Brits will stay out there without the Yanks. ·