There are many ways to destroy a city

At the Taverna du Liban, the popular Kabul restaurant that was attacked last week, the liquor was served discreetly in teapots. That is what I read in reports and tributes on the Internet, but in my own memories I recall clearly the mint lemon juice, served in tall glasses. I remember big slabs of chocolate cake appearing unbidden, and my protest that we hadn't ordered cake receiving a response with a smile that it was complimentary, a courtesy to guests. I remember there already being more food than we had ordered at our table, and eventually more dessert than we could eat. And I remember most clearly my reason for picking the Taverna on one particular occasion. After much deliberation I had invited my party of guests there – young Afghans working their first jobs, most of them young women – because it was one of the few places I was sure they would be treated courteously, where they could feel secure.

The Taliban picked their target well. The Taverna usually hosted Kabul's signature mix of bureaucrats, highly placed consultants and INGO staff. But it was also that unusual space in Kabul's terrain of high walls and implicit hierarchies where everyone was treated as a respected guest. On Friday, 17 January, three men broke through the steel doors of the restaurant and massacred the men and women who sat defenceless at their tables. The Taliban took responsibility for these attacks, which bore evidence of long-term planning, claiming it to be retaliation for a coalition airstrike in which a number of Afghan civilians were killed. Among the dead at Taverna were 13 foreigners and eight Afghans. The latter included a newly married couple celebrating their wedding, and two Afghan drivers who were killed by the blast as they waited outside the restaurant.