I am a 35-year-old street vendor. I wear an old chador so that people can’t recognize me or guess my age. Underneath my chador, no one sees my state, how many tears I shed, or how much I pray for a customer to purchase something from me. I sell biscuits but it’s hard to make a living. Even if I work all day, I only earn 50 afghani.
I am terrified of the Taliban. Whenever I sit here, my greatest fear is that the Taliban patrol might come and stop me from working. Helmand province has always had restrictions aimed at women but people respected those who had to work, especially middle-aged and elderly women. They would even help transport their things. Now that the Taliban have taken over, the number of women seen in public has decreased significantly as they only leave their homes for specific things and only if necessary. When they see a woman, they assume they have the right to insult and belittle her.
I have to work in public, so I often bring my three-year-old son with me, hoping the Taliban will not bother me in my child’s presence.Just two days ago, A Taliban asked me why I, a woman, was there without a guardian. He remarked that it’s not proper for a decent woman to work outside the home. I told him that I was poor and helpless and had to work. Instead of understanding my plight, he ordered me to be silent.
I live in my sister-in-law’s house and work to support my four children. If I didn’t have to care for them, I wouldn’t be here today. I genuinely feel miserable. Often, as the sky darkens at the end of the day, I still haven’t earned enough to buy my children’s bread.
There was a time when I lived like a queen. I had a happy life with my husband. Then, three years ago, my husband told his elder brother that he wanted to sell his inherited land and buy a house in Lashkargah, the capital of Helmand. His brother got angry. My husband tried to persuade him, but they shouted and fought each other. My brother-in-law struck my husband several times on the head with an axe. Our nine-year-old son tried to defend his father but was also struck by his uncle.
My husband died instantly but our son survived for 48 hours. With the help of neighbours, I took him to the doctor but he remained in a coma until he also died. No one dared to confront or punish my brother-in-law for what he did. He sold my husband’s properties and tried to force me to marry him. I responded that I’d rather kill my children and myself than become his wife. Eventually, my husband’s sister came to my aid, and I moved in with them. They charge me 200 afghani monthly for rent, and despite their taunts and jibes, I live with them. I’m not sure how long I can endure this situation.
Every time that Taliban militants see me working as a street vendor, they say that my presence in public is a major sin. They suggest that I am indecent for allowing people to watch me work. They label me as a wicked woman.
Once, when I told them that I was a widow and so had to work, they replied there are many mujahedeen, and if I married one of them, I’d be free from these hardships.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the interviewees and writer. Atifa Atifa is the pseudonym of the author, who lives in Afghanistan.
