By Mahsa Elham*, Mehtab Safi*, and Sana Atif*
After the Taliban declared a total war on women’s social presence after they took over Afghanistan. Women and girls are denied the right to education, work, and freedom of movement. At the same time, women’s struggle against the Taliban’s anti-human policies continues and has become a beacon of hope in the dark times.
For the second anniversary of the Taliban’s seizure of power, Zan Times talked with six women, ranging from a businesswoman to a former student, about their suffering, struggles, and aspirations, as well as how their experiences shed light on the situation facing all women under the Taliban’s oppressive rule.
Name: Zarifa*
Age: 36
Province: Herat
Occupation: Businesswoman
I have had my own manufacturing workshop for the past 15 years, working as a businesswoman. My husband lives in Iran. I am a mother of seven children.
On June 20, 2023, I went to a government office for some official business. There, a member of the Taliban’s intelligence stopped me and said, “Why have you come without a legal male guardian (mahram)?” I replied, “I don’t have a male guardian here; my husband is in Iran.” He became furious and said, “Are you trying to play word games with a mujahid?” He insulted and humiliated me, then ordered his men to arrest me. I was detained. I thought they would release me soon, considering it a misunderstanding. However, they paid no heed to my words. They took me to one of the detention centers in the city of Herat. For four days, no one addressed my case.
The district commander was absent during those four days. When he returned from leave and reviewed my file, I was interrogated again. They asked why I was unaccompanied by a man and why I hadn’t observed the Islamic dress code. Even though I wore a “chapan” (a traditional women’s coat), I wasn’t wearing a chadori. I remained composed and answered all their questions. Finally, on the guarantee of one of my relatives, I was released. I did not abandon my work. I resumed it the very day I was released from jail, but I live in fear that they’ll stop me again for not wearing their definition of the proper hijab. It’s not just the Taliban. I’ve noticed that even ordinary people exhibit similar behaviour toward women. A few months ago, no one would rent a house to me. They said I needed to have my husband, brother, or father with me, but unfortunately, none of them were there. After much hassle and hectic, I found a house. The neighbours say I am alone without a man, and they have created countless problems for me. The Taliban, despite claiming to follow Islam, still do not act according to Islamic principles. In this situation, nothing progresses. There’s no hope for the future either.
Name: Samira*
Age: 22
Province: Herat
Occupation: Student
In the summer of 2022, I went to a party with my family. The weather in Herat was extremely hot. As we reached the Malan Bridge checkpoint, the Taliban stopped us. My father doesn’t like to wear a beard and only maintains a moustache. My sister and I were wearing smaller veils. When the Taliban shone a light inside our vehicle, they insulted and humiliated us severely. They said to my father, “What’s this situation? Why are your women dressed like this?” My father responded, “It’s night, there is no light inside the vehicle, and the weather is very hot. Nobody else dares to shine a light inside our vehicle.” The Taliban got angry. They pulled my father out of the vehicle, hurling all kinds of abuse at him. They insulted him for his beard, too. I was in a state of anger and sadness. I wanted to get out of the car and defend my rights. When they told my father he was dishonourable for letting his daughters go out like this, he got angry and argued with the Taliban.
I feared they would arrest my father. So, I sat silently inside the car. I swallowed all my grievances and choked on them, but I couldn’t say anything. Finally, after a lot of verbal confrontation and insults, they allowed us to move on. We’ve faced such situations many times, each time being insulted without reason. Life is very tough. One feels like they are not living in their own country. We feel like we are in a foreign place and we are outsiders. This no longer feels like our homeland, and I feel like I don’t belong on this soil. I feel alienated.
The bitter memories I have from this period, I will never forget, and I hope one day our country is freed from its grip. I long for the freedom that is within the confines of the law, nothing more. I yearn for the days when I could freely go to the park. We would go out to eat with family and be happy without any fear. Sometimes, when I pass by a park, my heart aches with regret and pain.
The Taliban have taken away the little things that led to Afghanistan’s progress and contributed to the intellectual, mental, and cultural development of its people. Afghanistan is heading toward darkness and ruin. Right now, it has lost many things that could have given us hope for its future. If the Taliban ever leave, God knows when that will be, this won’t be our homeland like before. After all these years, can we start from scratch?
Name: Zulikha*
Age: 46
Province: Jowzjan
Job: Employee of a foreign NGO
My husband used to work as a driver for an American office. He had a good salary. However, 10 years ago, when he was on duty, he was killed by the Taliban. I was left with our two sons. I was still young, but in our tribe, there’s a norm that a widow should not remarry. They say that a woman should live her entire life in the name of her first husband. I too didn’t marry and chose to raise my very young children on my own.
I worked and provided for the needs of my children. I managed to get a job at an educational centre established by the Americans. There, I was paid a salary of US$100, and children from our area could study there for free. But the centre closed when the Americans left Afghanistan. Later, the Taliban looted all its items and sold some for a cheap price.
After its closure, I found a job in a foreign NGO. But last December, the Taliban prohibited women from working at NGOs. To feed my family I was forced to wash clothes in people’s houses. I live in a rented house and barely manage to cover my expenses. I am hopeful for the future. I wish for the Taliban to leave, that we can once again have a government like before, and to have the right to live.
Name: Shekoofa*
Age: 32
Province: Jowzjan
Occupation: Former teacher
I worked as a teacher in government and private schools for several years. I had a monthly income of 8,000 to 9,000 afghani. After the arrival of the Taliban, female teachers were laid off and private schools also faced economic problems. As a result, I lost my job. I have a bachelor’s degree in chemical technology from a government university in Jowzjan province. My husband used to work as a stonemason and occasionally as a labourer, but after lifting heavy weights, he had a herniated disc. We had his neck surgery done in Mazar-e-Sharif but he can only move a little now.
We live in a small house, which belongs to one of my relatives. It has one room and a washroom. There’s no electricity. We used to live in a relatively good rented house, and I still owe 5,000 afghani to its owner, who evicted us because we couldn’t pay the rent. I sold an old bicycle and some other belongings to pay the electricity bill. I owe the shop in front of our house 2,000 afghani for food. I owe 15,000 afghani in total and no one will lend me more
Now, we only have a little flour left at home. I have no money to buy groceries. I have two children. My elder daughter fainted twice, 10 days ago. She lost consciousness, and her hands turned cold. I took her to a government hospital where the doctor advised me to give her nutritious food. I cried because I don’t even have bread to feed them, let alone nutritious food. She fainted again twice this week. When she loses consciousness, I just rub her hands and feet and cry above her head. After 10 minutes, she wakes up.
My husband, my mother-in-law, and my daughter are all sick. My mother-in-law has also become very weak. It has been months since we ate any meat. She asked me to buy some meat and cook it. But I only had 100 afghani and chicken costs 300 afghani per kilo. I spent 50 afghani on meat, which I made into a soup. Sometimes I go to my brothers-in-law, cry, and tell them about our miserable life. They are struggling, too. Seeing my grief, they sometimes give me 500 afghani. Sometimes, I go to my sister’s house or that of another relative, who buy me some potatoes and onions or gives me some flour. In short, as a woman with a bachelor’s degree, I have become a beggar.
I have taken the teacher’s exams in private and government sectors several times and finally succeeded in the reserve pool this year. But when I approach the Department of Education, they ask me to wait for further instructions. In the beginning, when I went to the Department of Education, they treated me with respect and dignity. Some of my former colleagues are still there, but now nobody talks to me. They are often very rude, saying, “This is not a place for women.”
Aid agencies distribute assistance only to those who have connections. They don’t help the poor like us. We have endured two years full of suffering and pain. The future will be even worse.
Name: Aisha*
Age: 48
Province: Kandahar
Occupation: Housewife
While I was bringing straw and fodder for our cows and sheep when a battle between the Taliban and the national army began. The sounds of gunfire and bullets were very close to our farm. Suddenly, I felt an intense pain in my legs followed by a burning sensation – then they went numb. When I touched my legs, I noticed my hand was bloody. I realized I had been hit by a bullet. My father-in-law realized I was injured and bleeding profusely. I fell to the ground, unable to move or stand. My father-in-law left to seek assistance. I lay there, bleeding heavily for about an hour, until I saw my children and people from the village approaching. They put me in a car with my maternal uncle beside me. I said to him, “Dear uncle, I entrust my children first to God and then to you.” I thought I was dying. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t comprehend where I was. I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital, again in excruciating pain. When the doctors saw the state of my leg, they told my family that they couldn’t treat me and recommended transferring me to a central hospital.
I was taken to the central hospital, where doctors said the bullet wasn’t in my leg anymore. They bandaged my leg, told me I’d be okay and that my leg would move in a few days. Days passed, but my leg remained immobile. My family took me to the French Emergency Hospital. Its doctors said the bullet was still in my leg, and additionally, the doctors at the previous hospital hadn’t removed burned flesh from my leg. The burns were near the nerves and had gotten infected. The doctors said the infection could have paralyzed my entire body in a few more days. They operated. I suffered a lot of pain, and, worst of all, one of my legs is completely paralyzed.
Since the Taliban took over, our family’s situation has worsened. Our farm produce has no buyers, and there was no money for my medication. This is the life the Taliban brought me. How can I hope for a better tomorrow?
Name: Nasrin*
Age: 37
Province: Kandahar
Occupation: Homemaker
My husband had a job in an NGO and earned a good income. We had married for love. When the Taliban came to power, he lost his job. The economic pressures affected his behaviour and character. He constantly worried about how to find work and provide for the household. Whenever he sought employment, he faced rejection. Every time he came home, he would find an excuse to argue with me.
When I told him that we were short on money and he needed to try harder to find a job, he would hit me to silence me. He would get frustrated by our bickering and would leave the house. He would either come home very late at night or not come home at all. His behaviour became intolerable. He would fight with me and physically abuse me. Then, after one fight, he threw me out of the house.
I went to my father’s house. Later, I returned to my husband, not wanting them to know about the state of my marriage. I knew they would tell me I had chosen this marriage and that my husband was a bad choice.
I am a university graduate and found a job teaching children in an educational centre. My husband still spends all his time outside the house and takes my salary. I realized he had become an addict and was using my money to buy drugs. A few days ago, I went to the local office to complain about my husband’s abuse and drug use. However, the officer, who was a Taliban member, told me, “He is your husband, live with him. He has the right to do whatever he wants with you, and you shouldn’t come to complain again.”
I left the office disheartened and returned home. Over the past two years, we have experienced the worst conditions, and there’s no one to listen to our plight. Where should I go to be heard? With this situation, there seems to be no tomorrow and no hope. Miseries keep piling up.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the interviewees and writer. Mahsa Elham*, Mehtab Safi*, and Sana Atif* are the pseudonyms of Zan Times journalists in Afghanistan.
