Within a few years of my 2005 trip, Waziristan had spun completely out of control. Aspiring jihadis flooded in from across the globe to sign up with al Qaeda. In Miram Shah, where I had taken tea with Tariq Khan, the restaurants and internet cafés burbled with foreign accents. ‘This bazaar is bustling with Chechens, Uzbeks, Tajiks, Russians, Bosnians, some from EU countries and of course our Arab brothers,’
