KABUL, Afghanistan - From outside, it is marked only by a simple sign over a door that reads "Strikers." Beyond the gate, a covered, sandbagged driveway leads well away from the public road - a precaution against bombers. Guards inside the half-ton fortified steel door collect weapons from customers to be stored for safekeeping.

Inside, it is another world, opening to a clean and capacious restaurant. Past a wall of cubbyholes with crisp new bowling shoes, is the main hall, with 12 lanes fitted with Brunswick pinsetters and multihued Day-Glo balls.

Welcome to Afghanistan's first bowling alley. Though Strikers' opening last fall was the country's introduction to bowling, most of the bowlers now are Afghans, not expatriates. Strikers' founder and owner is 28-year-old Meena Rahmani, who has managed to keep her mostly male staff of 25 working despite Afghan society's deep bias against women.

"I knew how hard it would be," she said. "I'd be in a difficult condition with the labor, but it's my right, and if they get offended, I can't help that. I'm the boss."

Ms. Rahmani grew up as a refugee in Pakistan and later in Canada. She married a young Afghan man, and they lived in Toronto until they decided to return to Kabul last year. The long Canadian winters indirectly provided the inspiration - besides skiing, there was nothing much to do but bowling, she said.

When they arrived in Kabul, the first thing she noticed was how little opportunity there was to have fun. "I really found nothing in the entertainment sector, a place where everybody, children, even women could get affordable time out," she said.

So she persuaded her parents to let her sell some family land in Kabul (her father is a doctor, her mother a university lecturer), and she put up $1 million to bring in the equipment from China, as well as three technicians from Brunswick to train her staff.

Soon Thursday and Friday nights, the big weekend nights here, were mobbed with bowlers, despite the lane fee of $35 an hour. Ms. Rahmani said that what really amazed her was the bowling aptitude among Afghans.

One of those naturals was Karim Yusufi, a 26-year-old sales executive. A friend invited him to bowl and taught him the basics, Mr. Yusufi said. "Then he said: 'We have to bet on it. If you have the low score, you pay,'" he said.

Mr. Yusufi rolled 120 that first night, far higher than his gutter-hugging teacher. Now, as Strikers' top scorer, with a 214 game, Mr. Yusufi has his picture posted both on the bowling center's wall and on its Facebook page.

It has not all been smooth going. Ms. Rahmani was shocked by the corruption as she dealt with local officials for permits and permissions. "Every step I went, they were asking for money," she said.

Inside, Ms. Rahmani realized she needed to be firm with a few of the customers, and she put up a warning sign: "Do not show your ugly side to our peacekeeping security staff." That staff included a couple of plainclothes officers in the bowling hall and a vigilant door crew that made sure young men were there only for bowling - if they brought women, they had to prove they were related.

"I'm very aware of our culture, and I value whatever is included in our culture," Ms. Rahmani said. There are precious few activities in Kabul that involve both sexes, even in family settings, and the last thing she would want to see is a fatwa against bowling.

Ms. Rahmani said she was aware that she had opened the bowling alley at a difficult time, and not just because of bureaucracy and corruption. As the international presence in the country begins to retract, more businesses are closing than opening.

"The war in Afghanistan has been going on since before I was born. We have no idea if it's going to end someday," she said. "We just have to carry on."