A week before the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan in February 1989, I traveled there to report on the final days of the decade-long Red Army occupation.

Trekking north of Jalalabad near the mountainous frontier regions with Pakistan, I encountered a group of Arab Wahhabi on the outskirts of an abandoned state-owned orange grove. These Muslim fundamentalists who had come to help the mujahideen - or holy warriors as Afghan guerrillas were known - to fight the anti-Soviet jihad (holy war). They were manning hillside trenches overlooking the Kabul-to-Pakistan highway. Overall, an estimated several thousand fundamentalists had arrived from Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Algeria, Sudan, and other Middle East countries during the latter years of the Soviet-Afghan war.

The leader of this group - a young, arrogant Saudi - stepped forward demanding in fluent English to know who I was and what I was doing in Afghanistan. Wearing a military fatigue jacket and billowing trousers, he was flanked by 20 fellow Arabs from various countries armed with AK-74 assault rifles and rocket-propelled grenade launchers.

It's crucial to retain face in Afghanistan. So for the benefit of my Afghan companions, I deliberately turned to my interpreter and spoke in English. Amused, my interpreter repeated my words - in English: "I am a guest in this country just as you are." It was important to show that, as a foreigner, this Arab had no business demanding to know who I was.

To this he retorted: "This is our jihad, not yours. Afghanistan does not want you. If I see you again, I'll kill you."

Throughout my years of reporting in Afghanistan, I'd been welcomed with extraordinary hospitality. Whether in comfort or under fire, I had shared tea, food, and water with numerous Afghan hosts, and even slept in mosques - strictly forbidden today under the Islamic extremism of Taliban rule - as guests of villagers struggling to survive in war-torn Afghanistan. For me, it was hard to imagine Afghans being any other way. So I was taken aback - as were the Afghan guerrillas accompanying me - with the behavior of this tall, bearded Arab.

As I later learned, he was a wealthy Saudi, a certain Osama bin Laden - the alleged terrorist behind the bombings of US embassies this month in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam.

I had little idea at the time that this man was a leading figure among the Arabs who had come to fight the jihad in Afghanistan. But I was aware that he and his men were in the process of constructing several mountain redoubts in Nangrahar, Kunar, and Khost provinces along the Pakistan border. They were also intent on imposing their own extremist form of Islam on the country. Both he and other Arabi, as these fundamentalists are called there, were using their abundant funds to buy the support of growing numbers of Afghan guerrilla commanders. It's a tactic Taliban forces used to help gain control over 80 percent of the country.

To some relief workers and journalists, Arabi-backed fighters were often referred to as the Gucci mujahideen because of their elaborate weapons, vehicles, and Banana-Republic-style photo vests.

In addition, the Arabi were involved in a number of incidents directed against Western journalists and relief workers, such as beatings, kidnappings, and attacks on passing vehicles.

Sneering disdain for non-believers

Ignoring Mr. Laden's sneering disdain for kafirs (non-believers) as he called me to my face, I pointed out that most Afghans seemed to welcome Western journalists and relief workers. This included French women doctors, many of whom had risked their lives to help Afghan victims of war. I couldn't help adding that we had also been working in Afghanistan long before the Arab brigades arrived.

"We'll leave if our Afghan friends no longer consider us their guests, just as I'm sure you'll leave if they no longer consider you their guests," I said.

A week later, I was back with a television crew. I hadn't been keen on returning to the Arab front line, but my mujahed hosts had insisted that this was their country and they'd take us wherever they liked.

"These Arabi do not tell us what to do," maintained one local commander.

On our arrival, Laden, wearing traditional Afghan shalwar-kameez - loose shirt and baggy cotton trousers - and a white headscarf, emerged from the trenches. He shouted at the cameraman to stop recording and demanded to know why I'd returned. His men raised their weapons, one of them cocking his kalashnikov in the cameraman's back. The Afghan mujahideen immediately raised theirs to protect us.

"If you touch our friends, we'll kill you all," said one of the Afghans with us.

With government mortars falling nearby and the situation between the two groups rapidly deteriorating, the Afghan commander intervened. "This is not good for Islam," he said and begged his troops to take us to safety.

Later we were told that because of our insulting treatment and other incidents - including an Arab attack on an International Red Cross vehicle - local Afghan commanders had executed several Arabi from Laden's and other groups.

While Laden is believed to have made his first trip to the region in 1979, most Arabi joined the Afghan jihad from the mid-1980s onward. They operated with their own commanders but made little difference in the war against the Soviets. For many Wahhabi (a fundamentalist Islamic sect that also includes the Saudi Royal family), particularly young Arabs anxious to prove their religious mettle in battle, Afghanistan was the only place for them to indulge in a true jihad. Subsequently, quite a few Arabs - referred to as Afghanis in their home countries - have used their mujahed experience in Bosnia, Algeria, and other wars involving Muslims.

The Afghans accepted the Arabi not because of their fighting ability but because of their lavish funding for pay-offs and weapons. During the war against the communist Kabul regime, many Afghans expressed horror at the ruthless nature of the Arabi who tended to kill their victims, notably prisoners, by slashing their throats. Also, I witnessed numerous captured female women and children from communist villages being transported by Arabs across the Pakistani border. According to Afghan sources and human rights groups, they were shipped to the Middle East as slaves. This human trafficking was well known to the Pakistani government and US intelligence.

US condoned Arab involvement

Despite Arab atrocities and their imposition in Afghan society, the US and Pakistan condoned, if not supported, Arab involvement in the war to oust the Soviets.

During the early 1990s, the post-communist leadership in Kabul expelled most Arabi as disruptive, unwanted guests. But that did not stop their influence in Afghan affairs. Hundreds of millions of Arab dollars had been spent in the 1980s on Koranic schools, clinics, and orphanages in Pakistan-based refugee camps. Many young Afghans schooled in the Arab-backed Koranic institutions of Pakistan now constitute the Taliban of today.

The extremism espoused by Arabi such as Laden represents a form of Islam totally alien to Afghan tradition, culture, and religion. Music and dance, for example, have always been part of Afghan life yet are now banned by the Taliban. So is kite-flying, television, shaving, public clothes-washing, and female education. In the remaining non-Taliban areas such dictates are considered absurd.

While Laden probably has no decision-making role in Taliban policies, he's assuredly a significant funding source. But as the British, Russians, and Pakistanis have found, you can only rent an Afghan; you can't buy him. The Taliban will probably provide Laden with safe haven only as long as it is in their interest. It might be an attractive option if the Taliban regime could get international recognition in trade for handing him over or curbing his activities. However, the Taliban may not even be in a position to oust Laden from distant tribal areas where he has bases. He's made deals with local leaders, many of whom, happy with the lucrative poppy, opium, and heroin trade, won't accept outside interference.

While US attacks against Laden's bases may send a loud message to the world, they're unlikely to achieve their stated aim of destroying him. A more effective tactic might be to put a high price on his head, one that is sure to tempt many an Afghan warlord or commander. But this should be combined with a more active role in pressuring outside players to leave Afghanistan alone. Afghans deserve the right to deal with their own problems.

The international community should only be involved in providing the country with a form of assistance that benefits the people rather than the constant power-mongering that has plagued the various leaderships since war began in 1978.

• Edward Girardet is a former special correspondent for the Monitor.