When you smile

Pains escape to the mountains

Smile

When you smile

The pomegranate flowers smile too

Smile

I decided not to be rude again

Smile

Life is short…

Life is short…

By Tabasom

When I was nine months old, I had a fever and my family took me to a doctor. The doctor gave me a shot and the next morning my legs would not support me. I had polio. My family did not have money for follow-up treatment.

When I was five years old, my father left my mother for another woman. Then we did not have money even for food. We were Afghan refugees living in Pakistan. My younger brother tried to earn money by doing anything he could, like going to people’s houses, collecting their trash and selling it. One day my younger brother got sick, so my mother had no option but to take me in her arms and sit beside the street begging for money so she could take my brother to the doctor. I do not remember anything from that time because I was very young. But my mother told me people were not friendly; after all, they saw women like her, begging with a baby in arms, every day. Finally, after quite a long time, a kind-hearted man got out of his car and gave her a fair amount of money so she could take my brother to a doctor. Until now, every time my mother prays, she remembers that man and prays for him as well.

My father returned home, then, and stayed with us for one year. I was seven years old when he died of a heart attack. Two months later, my mother took me to a German doctor who was working briefly at a hospital, helping Afghan refugees for free. He operated on my knee, but he made a mistake and operated on the wrong one, and soon after that, returned home. My life became even harder. Whenever my family went to a party or wedding, they told me I could not go because people would laugh, point and mock me. I stayed alone at home and talked with the walls. Sometimes I cried. I did not go outside. Because I could not walk on my feet, I walked with my hands.

One day my family went to party and I was alone at home. I fell down. My foot and my hand were hurt. My hand started bleeding. I was crying and calling my mom, but nobody was there to hear. I felt so lonely. I wished that I was never born since I could not walk, run and enjoy life like other kids my age. I asked myself why I came to be in this world.

When I was nine years old, I lost my grandmother. When my family and I were at my grandmother’s house for her funeral, suddenly my aunt pointed at me and said, “Why didn’t she die instead? She cannot walk and is of no use. Why hasn’t she died instead?” It was like the whole world collapsed on me. Even though I was young, I could understand. It became a big burden on my heart. Many nights after that, I was thinking about why my aunt, my own aunt, had said those harsh words to me and about me.

In the tenth spring of my life, it was my aunt’s wedding. As usual my family told me, “You stay alone at home.” I cried and asked them to take me with them, but they said, “No, you have to stay at home.” They went to the wedding. I cried for hours after they left, until at last I went to sleep. When they came home and talked about the wedding, I was crying in my heart.

Every Eid, all my siblings got new clothes and other gifts, but my family did not buy for me because they told me, “Since you do not go out, you do not need new clothes and other things.” One day I didn’t tell my mom and I went outside. The children started laughing at me and teasing me and hurt me, and my head became bloody. I walked with my hands back home, and then my mom was very angry at me.

When I was twelve years old, we came back to Kabul from Pakistan. I still stayed home, but I started to read books and magazines. I was thirteen years old when I went to the Red Cross. They gave me crutches. Then I attended school for the first time, and began with the fourth grade. I went to the Red Cross again and they put my both legs, from toe up, in a cast. I was in the cast for six months. It was difficult, but I continued to go to school and became first in my class. I had another operation and then I could walk with crutches. And now some Americans have helped me and I have learned English and I may have three more surgeries in the coming three years so that I can walk better and better.

This is my life story. But this is not the end. Wait for the end!

By Sana

Rain appears from clouds

Tears appear from eyes

Blood appears from wounds

Wounds appear from grief

Poverty appears from brokenness

Anger appears from high tension

War appears from conflict

Love appears from the heart

Pleasure appears from doing your wishes

Being active appears from hard work

Cold appears in winter

Warmth appears in summer

Blossoms appear in Spring

Nature wearing yellow clothes appears in Fall

The sun’s twinkle appears in a cloudy sky

Cleanness appears from care

Corruption appears from greed

Leadership emerges from good management

Skill appears from experience

Experience appears from practice

Friendship appears from good will

Wisdom appears when there is no censorship.

By Freshta

(Eds Note: This is based on a true story, though names have been changed.)

When I became a teenager, I began thinking about marrying my cousin Sahil. This had been discussed between my aunt and my father when I was born. I liked Sahil. He used to tease me, saying: “Oh, Vida, you’re too fat to marry.” I would get upset, but then he would say: “I am kidding.”

I was in eighth grade when my Aunt Bibi came from Kabul to our home in Quetta, Pakistan. She called me: “Vida, my daughter-in-law.” I hated when she called me that because I thought my mother-in-law would be my other aunt. My aunt Bibi had a son who was living in London. I heard her tell my mother: “Farid will take Vida to London to after marrying her.”

My mother said: “Oh, that’ll be great.”

I quietly entered the room. “My daughter, come sit with your aunt for a while.”

“No, mother, I’ve homework to do.” I left the room, taking my bag with me.

I told my cousin Farishta about it. “You’re lucky… Do you even know where London is?”

“But what about Sahil? I was supposed to marry him, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but it’s fine. They are sisters so they’ll be happy for you too,” said Farishta.

On the way to school the next day, I met Sahil and told him about Farid and London. “Wow, London is so famous,” he said. “So, when are you marrying him?”

He didn’t care that I was going to marry Farid. I said, “Aren’t you jealous?”

“No, I am not. I am happy you’re going to London, dummy girl.”

Days passed, and one day I came home from school and went to the room my parents shared with my five siblings. As I entered the room, Farishta’s sister was dancing and everyone else was clapping. My mother stood and hugged me. Then everyone hugged me and congratulated me. “What is going on?” I said.

My mother said: “Your father agreed to your engagement to Farid, and you’ll go to London.”

I was shocked. “But none of you asked me.”

My mother stared at me. “When your father and I are agreed, then why shall we ask you?”

The next day was my engagement party without Farid. He called that night and talked to my mother and father. Everyone was very happy. I was neither happy nor sad. Days and nights were passing by, and my aunt returned to Afghanistan. I continued studying in the ninth grade, and when I entered tenth grade, my mother told me Farid would arrive from London and that my Aunt Bibi would come too for my marriage party. I was very sad that I would not be able to finish tenth grade.

Weeks passed, and when I came from school one day, I saw a new face sitting in the hall. He had round brown eyes. He was very thin, and a very tall, good-looking guy. I remembered my mother saying Farid would be here in a week, and then I realized a week was already gone. I said to myself: “That’s Farid, your fiancé.” My aunt and my cousins from Afghanistan were in the hall. They all welcomed me, and I shook hands with everyone. I shook hands with Farid too. He held my hand tight and hugged me. I was shy in front of everyone and ran to my room. The girls were all laughing. I didn’t come out of the room until the next day.

Everyone was very happy. Music was playing and girls were laughing, clapping and dancing. Farishta was with me in my room. My aunt came in with new clothes, sandals and jewelry. She asked me to shower, put these on, and then come to the hall because it was my Henna Night. (Henna Night is the night before the wedding, when the bride and the groom sit together and their relatives put henna on their hands.) I took a shower and dressed. Farishta did my makeup and everyone came to take me to the hall. I was newly turned 15 years old.

In the hall, Farid was already standing there, waiting for me. We sat next to each other. I could feel his legs touching mine and was not comfortable. He held my hand. The music was loud; girls were clapping, some dancing. Finally they brought the henna and put it on our hands. Farid whispered in my ear, but due to the loud music, I could not hear anything. He shouted: “Why aren’t you replying?” I said I couldn’t hear him. He asked if I was happy. I said yes.

The next morning, my aunt awoke me at 8 a.m. “We need to take you to the beauty parlor to pluck your eyebrows.” At the beauty parlor, they plucked my eyebrows, curled my hair, and did my makeup. My other cousins curled their hair too. Later they gave me a new dress and more jewelry. That night was my wedding night. We all went to a hotel, which I saw for the first time. Farid and I stood again together, and we held hands. He said I looked beautiful.

After that, we were taken back home to a room decorated beautifully. It was my uncle’s room. There were flowers all over the bed. Everyone left the room, and Farid locked the room. I said: “Farid, why are you locking the room?”

“We are bride and groom.” I thought, so? He came and kissed me on the cheek and said, “You are very innocent.”

I screamed: “Mom, Mom! Farid is so bad, he kissed me,” and I started crying.

He said: “This is something normal between a girl and a boy, especially when they get married.”

I liked him, actually. I loved his warm touch. We slept apart for ten nights because I was very shy. The next five days, he slept next to me but didn’t touch me at all. It was the sixteenth night when we both obeyed the married people’s rule. We slept together… I finally became a woman.

After one month, I was told to pack my luggage to leave with my aunt and Farid. It was 3:00 a.m. when Farid woke me. “We have to leave now.” I started crying and put on my clothes. They took out my luggage, and everyone waited in the hall to say goodbye. We cried and hugged for half an hour, until the driver told us to hurry up. Sitting in the car next to Farid and Bibi, I slept for more than nine hours. Finally Farid woke me.

“Where are we now?” I asked.

“We are in Kandahar. We will stay the night, and early in the morning we leave for Kabul.” I had to hide my face with a scarf. I never used to hide my face when I was in Pakistan. I only used to wear the headscarf, as it was a part of our religion. I could not breathe properly when my face was covered with the scarf. We went to my cousin’s home. We ate supper together and slept in the hall all together. Early in the morning, we took a car to Kabul. Then I had to wear the burqa. It was very hard for me but they asked me to, so I did. Finally we arrived at a big building with lots of apartments next to each other.

Our apartment was on the 4th floor. I asked Farid if I could remove the burqa because I could not walk with it. He said: “Yes, you can take it off.” I was still wearing my scarf. The stairs were cleaner then I imagined. Inside, Bibi showed me my room. My luggage was brought and I washed my face in the bathroom. Everyone went to their rooms and rested. I went to my room where Farid was already lying on the bed. I could not sleep so I stood on the balcony and watched life outside, cars moving and people walking. I felt cold and returned to my room to sleep next to Farid. He put his hand on me and slept. I could not fall sleep for a long time. I missed everyone back home. I cried and then fell asleep.

The next morning, Farid said: “I’ll be leaving to London in two days.”

“So, I should not unpack?

Farid said: “Why aren’t you going to unpack?”

“Because I’ll be going with you to London, right?”

It was then that Farid told me I was not going with him for a few years. He left after two nights. I spent those two nights with him crying. I cried day and night. I was eight months pregnant when I next heard his voice on our neighbor’s phone. I was so happy to hear his voice after such a long time.

I had my first baby girl, and got very busy with her and my alone life. At that time, Farid’s brother Sameer became my best friend. He used to sleep in my room because I felt scared. I liked Sameer’s company. He used to bring everything I needed. One day he told me that he loved me a lot. I told him I loved him too because he helped me all the time and used to take me outside whenever I was bored.

I didn’t know what falling in love was like. I just felt like Sameer was my husband because he took care of me like a husband. I never had any sexual relationship with him but yes, I spent all my time with him. One day Sameer said Farid was on his way from London to Kabul. I was very sad, thinking Sameer would be separated from me.

Farid returned from London within two weeks. He was so happy to see his daughter, and loved her a lot. I felt strange whenever he touched me. I missed Sameer. I didn’t eat my breakfast with Farid. I waited until Sameer came, and then I would eat with him. Farid used to get jealous of this behavior but it was not my fault, because I spent three years with Sameer and not even three months with Farid.

Farid returned to London after a month in Kabul. After some weeks, I found out that I was pregnant again. Sameer took me to the doctor who said it was a girl. Sameer said congratulations.

One night I felt very cold and it was snowing outside. Sameer came and slept next to me. I loved it a lot. Again, we didn’t have any sexual relations but I enjoyed his body touch.

Then Bibi arranged for Sameer to be engaged to a girl from Kandahar who was an American citizen and had come from the U.S. I was happy for him, but sad that I was losing someone I loved the most. The marriage was a month later. I cried not only because I loved him, but because he was leaving for the U.S.

After he left, I was alone again, as I am now. Farid said he will be home soon but until now he hasn’t. There is nothing I can do but wait.

By Yagana

I was very sad because my teacher wouldn’t let me repeat my exams. She ignored my request and it broke all of my dreams. I decided to walk alone outside. I was really disappointed that I had lost my chance to go to the university. I really didn’t know what to do. Even the news that my other friends were doing well disturbed me. I had promised my family that I would pass my exams and bring them good reports. So how could I go home? What would I say to them?

I was deep in thought as I walked on the street. I just wanted to hear my own voice and cry and shout and I wanted to share everything with God alone. Suddenly a car stopped near me. In it were two boys. They were trying to disturb me by saying bad words. I didn’t respond. They got even meaner as they tried to humiliate me about my glasses. “Look, that old girl wears glasses and has lost her way home and is walking on the street.” Then they asked: “Where can we drop you?” They laughed a lot. I couldn’t say anything to them. I was alone, and also afraid.

Finally I took a stone that I wanted to throw at them. But they were gone before I could throw it. I was really afraid that I couldn’t defend myself. I felt even more sad and cried because of my weakness. What is my fault? Why can’t I defend myself? Why should I listen to those bad words? The ‘why’ kept eating at me, but I didn’t find an answer. I had really lost my way and didn’t know where I should go or what I should aim for, what my goal was.

As I was walking, I saw an older woman. She also looked sad, and tired of life. She was talking to herself under her breath. “Where should I go tonight? What should I take to my hungry children waiting for me under the tent?”

I asked her: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

She looked at me and said, “We can’t help each other because we are both women.”
Really, she was right, I thought. If I can’t help myself, how can I help her? When I observed myself next to that woman, there was no difference between me and her. I had lost my hope and she had lost her home. We were both in the same situation. I was thinking how we women are weak and can’t do anything, can’t say anything, and must just accept and give up.

But as I continued home, I thought to myself: “What do I really want? What should I do to get my goal, even if I have very bad days?” First, I want to make myself strong, then my country and society. I see much discrimination in families and in society. Women are victims for many reasons, but mostly just for being women. I decided to never lose hope, and I am sure I will one day be able to speak up to those who have discriminated against me.

By Shogofa