With the electricity supply erratic and power cuts long and unplanned throughout most of the country, no one in the village - as in much of Afghanistan - was taking any chances. "We don't want to miss the match. The whole village is banking on this generator. "Arrangements are being made so that everyone enjoys the game." He pointed to a pile of worn-out mats, collected from around the village and scattered beside a wall.
The preparations in this village near Kabul reflect the mushrooming interest in cricket in Afghanistan over the past few years. The game has done to this war-ravaged nation what repeated government attempts failed to do - it has blurred ethnic and tribal fault lines, evoked a sense of national pride, and given the people hope and a reason to cheer.
"For once, people are talking of Afghanistan as a nation," said Mohammad Nabi Eisakhil, captain of Afghanistan's World Cup squad. "This isn't just a game, this isn't just about winning, it's about bringing joy to a shattered nation, it's about bringing the people together. We are carrying dreams on our shoulders."
Eisakhil's words have a deep resonance and carry a message far beyond the pitch for which he is about to pad up. For cricket has not only brought Afghanistan together; it has, at least for now, dissolved the bitterness that came to define relations between Afghanistan and neighbouring Pakistan.
Cricketers and enthusiasts of the game in Afghanistan gratefully acknowledge the role of Pakistan, where the journey of Afghan cricket began in the 1990s.
At that time, most of the current crop of Afghan sporting heroes were living in refugee camps in Pakistan, having escaped the civil war and tyranny of the Taliban that had banned cricket back home.
While there, it was difficult for Afghan youngsters to overcome Pakistan's national obsession with the game, which would often acquire manic proportions, especially when the country played its traditional rival India.
"Whenever Pakistan won a cricket match against India, there would be spontaneous celebrations in the streets," recalls Mohammad Sami, a Kabul resident who lived in a refugee camp in Pakistan in the 1990s.
"Revellers would beat drums, burst crackers, ride on top of cars shouting slogans in praise of their heroes. Afghan refugees like me would also join such victory parades."
Cricket fever has now touched a similar high in Afghanistan. While people like Mr Abdul and Mr Mohammad have pooled their limited resources to make the most of the 44-day cricket extravaganza, merchants and businessmen have arranged for matches to be shown on big screens being erected in town squares and provincial capitals.
Keeping up with the tempo, some local traders have announced cash rewards for players who excel in the tournament.
A Kandahari property developer, Munir Khan, promised to give batsman Asghar Stanikzai US$10,000 if he scored a century against Bangladesh, and a trader from Paktika has promised US$10,000 to any Afghan bowler who gets five wickets in a match. The Afghan security forces and the Taliban, too, seem to be consumed by the cricket frenzy. A senior Afghan official said the two sides had agreed in back-channel talks to observe "unofficially" a ceasefire on days when the Afghan cricket team is playing.
Shah Jahan, an Afghan National Army commander, summed up the mood: "If we don't fight, we, too, can enjoy the game."
Bangladesh batted first in the game last night, scoring 267.
For more coverage of the Cricket World Cup from nzherald.co.nz and NZME check out #CricketFever.
