Father’s Day

What I want to say about my father is that he is my comfort in times of pain, my courage in times of defeat and my hope in times of despair. Fathers are those precious gifts of God whose fingers we hold as we learn how to walk, someone whose arms give us a sense of security and whose smiles give us hope.

In a country where girls are forced into marriages, denied education and surrounded by harsh religious and cultural taboos, I have always found my father standing not only behind me but also beside me.

When a girl enters the world of womanhood, this brings sexual harassment, social barriers, home imprisonment, denial of education and many other denials of basic human rights for many of my Afghan sisters. Most certainly I was no exception, but I was fortunate enough to have my father in my fight against them.

After returning from the United States, I took a part time job with a British journalist working on a documentary as well as a news piece about the American elections. The experience taught me on how hard it is for an Afghan woman to go out and work. During an interview in Khair Khana, the two journalists and I were surrounded by a crowd of men. The crowd started giving me cheeky comments because I, an Afghan woman, was working outdoors with foreign journalists. I looked around. This was something I had always been afraid of: being surrounded by men and not being able to defend myself. I listened to all the comments and continued translating the interviews for the journalist. That night when I went home, I directly went to the big room in the right corner of the hall, where my father was watching the news. After greeting him, “Salaam,” I sat beside him. He looked at me. “What is wrong child?” I had no words to express myself. I was angry, but what for? For being a girl, for being an Afghan girl, for being insulted? Turning to face him, I said, “Padar jaan, it was a horrible day today. The men insulted us as much as they possibly could. I hated it so much.”

My father looked me in the eye. “In Afghanistan, it is the world of men, and it takes strong women to make it the equal world of men and women,” he said.
He said nothing more and acted as if nothing had happened. All of a sudden I no longer had any anger inside but it was replaced by courage and a longing for change. I continued my job, paying minimum attention to what people said or thought.

That is who my father is and that is his importance in my life. They say there is a woman behind every successful man; I would say there is also a man behind every successful woman. For me that man is my father.

By Meena

Standing Up To My Uncles, and Other Class Assignments

Begin with the sentence: Someone once told me…

“I wish I was brave enough as you are so I could speak out for my education. You were brave enough to stand in front of your uncles and say that you are studying and you don’t want to be engaged or married. I am engaged now and after a year I am going to be married. My mother-in-law told me, ‘Stay at home and learn how to cook for a big family, learn how to sew and try to make your jahizia (the materials that the girl’s family give to their daughter for her new house when married.) Try to lose weight a little bit, or otherwise I will not let my son marry you.’ My family accepts those comments of her and I have to stay home instead of going to school.”

Nadia, who was really smart and wanted to become a doctor, is suppose to sit at home and be a housewife instead. “It was her junior year. She could have graduated from school in just one more year,” I told her mom.

Her mom looked at me as if I was her biggest enemy in the world. “You did not accept your cousin, now you want to ruin my daughter’s future. Her fiancé is really rich, and he is a business man going back and forth to China,” she said. Then her grandmother started to advise me to get married, saying it is the only right way for Muslim girls and their future.

I could not say anything to her because I had to shut my mouth when the elders were talking, and I was just wondering whether, if I had not stood up to my uncles that night, I would be in the same situation now. I was glad, but also very sad at the same time for the girls who cannot decide for their own futures.

Where I wish I was…

In a world of silence, no sounds of explosions, bombings, rockets, shootings. No sound of crying, the scream of a child seeing his/her mom lying on the ground with blood all over. The scream of a girl looking for the pieces of her brother’s body hit by a suicide attack. No more sounds of a baby with eyes looking around to see who is going to pick him/her to be her future.

A place, where people are treated equally with seeing no difference in their color, religion, ethnic, language or anything else.

A world where there would be no more mothers kicked out of their husbands’ house or divorced because she gave birth to a girl. No more sounds of HATE…

A world full of love, respect, prosperity, unity, and equal rights.

What I want to say about my father or mother…

Parents are the most precious gifts from Allah. For me, they have been the most supportive people in my life. Every decision I make is supported by them. It is almost five years since I lost my father. He was always helpful. He was not educated, but he could write, read and help me with some subjects for my classes. Even some educated fathers could not write as well. Sometimes, I thought he was a genius. He was a hero for me, and he is still a hero in every step I am taking in my life.

My mother is not just a mother but a very good friend of mine. She has seen so many difficulties in her life. She endured a lot of people’s backbiting about her life before marriage. She was the only woman in my father’s family who was educated. She worked in a hospital as a head midwife. She was a very different person when she was a girl. She used to wear miniskirts to school, and then she had to wear burqa after her marriage. She let her children study and be like her. Although my father was not educated, he respected my mother and her decisions. After my father died, my mother supported me and the decision to go alone for one year to America for high school. My uncles who wanted to supervise our family after my father’s death did not agree in any way for me to leave the family for one whole year. I would not have been able to fight for it if my mom was not with me. I share almost everything, even the small incidents, that happen in my life with my mother. That is why I call her more of a friend than a mother.

By Maryam

My Biggest Fear

For many Afghans, fear is not a part of life, but the heart of life. I have grown up seeing the fear of war, death, rape, poverty and life in the faces of those around me and those close to my heart. It wouldn’t be exaggerating if I say that I have seen people living and dying in fear. Whenever I look at an Afghan child with dirt on his face and torn clothes, it reminds me of my biggest fear and that is: will they inherit the misery as we did? And every time, the question remains unanswered.

Some 5.6 million Afghans found a shelter in Pakistan and Iran that never became a home. Phrases like “dirty immigrants,” “foreigners,” “children of Changez,” (a notorious warrior that people associate with the Hazaris) were what our generation grew up hearing. Newspaper headlines such as “Ask For The Departure of Immigrants,” brought sleepless nights to millions of fathers and tears to millions of mothers. I was in my early teens, walking towards play ground, when I heard Pakistani boys saying to the passing by Afghan girls “Look at the bitch immigrants.” This phrase made me remember that I was an immigrant for the rest of my stay.

Grinding poverty in the Taliban era drove thousands of young Afghan men to Iran to labor cheap and send a living back home. While being mistreated, paid unfairly and facing social barriers, many Afghan youth came back from Iran in the form of addicts. Every single year a large number of Afghan addicted women are forced to leave Iran to come to Afghanistan with no family, home or money. This leads many to the meat market. Many Afghan immigrants from Iran remember one phrase very well from their Iranian friends: “When will you be leaving?”

God gave us, Afghans, another chance to put together our country with the help of our international friends. In year 2001, when the Taliban were defeated, a large number of Afghan immigrants retuned from both Pakistan and Iran. These immigrants brought back with them painful memories of immigration along with an energy and fire to achieve something solid for themselves and for the future of their children. Millions of retuning eyes made millions of dreams for a better future for their children and grandchildren. My worst fear is the breaking of those millions of dreams.

Disagreeing with the media and political pundits, I choose to be very optimistic about the future of Afghanistan. I know nothing great can be achieved without sacrifice and nor will it be different this time. But looking at the young Afghan faces that surround me, the fear of leaving a torn Afghanistan comes to mind.

As Shakespeare said “… the world is a play and we all play our roles.” I, as an Afghan woman, will play my role in shaping Afghanistan’s future as a well-educated, ambitious private sector leader so that those who follow us will not know the fear that terrifies me.

By Meena

My Cousin’s Story

It was during the Taliban regime. In that time, my cousin was a shopkeeper. He had a gold shop. His shop was in a four-story market in the old town. He was young, maybe around 18 or so, and my younger brother was working at his shop as an assistant. During that period, boys were not allowed to grow their hair long or shape it in a nice way. There was a special truck that would come and just take every one that had short and styled hair and a short beard. Every time that the Taliban arrived with their truck, everyone would escape and hide some place.

One day my cousin was on his way to his house and the Taliban arrested him because his hair was short. They took him to jail. The jail they took my cousin to was actually an old muddy room with a hole in its roof. There were around ten other people in that tiny room. Most of them were in there because they had short hair or short beards. When the Taliban arrested people and put them in jail, they kept them there for three days or until their hair or beard was long enough! My cousin decided he did not want to stay there. With the help of other men, he managed to escape from the hole of that room. When he was on the roof, he looked around. He ran and jumped down into the neighbor’s house. He ran to the door, opened it and started to run in the tiny block. As he was running, he saw two Talibs before him. One of them hit my cousin with his gun and the other one grabbed him by his patu (a big scarf that men wear.) But my cousin managed to run away.

My family and I were at my aunt’s house when my cousin arrived. As soon as he came in, we understood that something was wrong. He came and sat down. He was touching his head and we saw blood on his hand. My aunt and my mother both asked him what happened. They became very worried. He told us the story. When he rolled up his sleeves, his hands were all scratched and there were cuts on his hands. His head was cut too. He had pain in his arms. Those cuts were burning.

“Now that I think about the jump that I did and about my escape, I can’t believe how I managed to do that,” my cousin said. My aunt and my mother argued with him why he had done such dangerous thing, and what those Talibs would have done if they had arrested him.

By Fattema

Mother’s Day with Happiness and Tragedy

Early in morning, Ballal, a six-year-old boy, bought a couple flowers from a shop. He kept them hidden, and did not show his mother. They had been invited to a ceremony which was to take place in the Women’s Affairs Department.

Ballal gave his mother his gift of flowers in front of many women, and got a kiss from his mother. The scene was beautiful for all the mothers who, along with the deputy governor and other leading local officials, attended the ceremony in Farah’s Women’s Affairs Department.

But the celebration of International Mother’s Day in Afghanistan was marred by a fatal attack against a young midwife on her way to work in Khurmaliq, a village in the west of the restive province, and government officials said Taliban militants were responsible.

Women in the province condemned the attack and demanded increased government attention to women’s security in Farah

At the Mother’s Day ceremony, Ballal said: “I had saved money to buy a gift for my mom, because it is her day. It was very important to me to do something for my mother on this day. I, and all people, know mothers are the ones who make the community good or bad. I love my mother, and all mothers.”

“Mothers are the most important part of our community,” said Mohammad Unis Rasuli, deputy governor. “They are fundamental. We appreciate Afghan mothers who have raised very brave children, such as AhmadShah Baba, Mallaia Mewand, and many other brave women. Mothers can lead the family toward good situations or bad situations.”

Liloma Sadiqi, director of Women’s Affairs Department in Farah Province, said, “With the celebration of mother’s day, we want to show the mother’s presence in our country. We want to show all mothers that they have special day. It is an opportunity for them to express their problems and find positive solutions.”

The midwife who was killed was identified as Narges, and she worked in a local health clinic. “She was heading to the clinic to visit a patient when the Taliban opened fire and killed her on the spot,” said Sadiqi. “No groups have yet claimed responsibility for the attack, but the Afghan government officials believe it is the work of Taliban militants.” She was accompanied by her husband at the time of the shooting.

“This was a midwife who worked for women. She was not doing a bad thing, or something against Islam or the Quran,” said Sajada, an official in the first district. “She helped mothers and children, but cruel Taliban have killed her. The government should provide security for women who work in such conditions, since such incidents will discourage the women to work outside the home.”

By Seeta