I want to tell the story of my sister, Sakina. She is 31, two years younger than me. About nine years ago, we became brides at the same wedding ceremony on the same day. I married my cousin, while Sakina married a young man from our village.
My life with my husband began with peace and happiness. I became pregnant during the first year of our marriage, and today I’m the mother of four children. But from the very first days of her marriage, Sakina’s life was one of pain, which has never ended.
After Sakina gave birth to her first child, her husband stopped coming home. He was addicted to drugs and spent most nights outside. One night we were told that he had collapsed by an irrigation ditch after taking drugs and died. Sakina decided she would never remarry, choosing instead to devote her life to raising her only child.
But her in-laws constantly threatened her, insisting she had to marry her late husband’s older brother, a man who already had a wife and seven children. They said they would never allow their son’s “honour” to be married to a stranger or allowed to leave their home. Sakina resisted and repeatedly told them she would never accept such a marriage.
For two full years, she endured beatings, pressure, and psychological torment. Eventually, pressured by unending force and coercion, she married her husband’s older brother.
Sakina’s suffering only deepened during her second marriage. Her mother-in-law and co-wife constantly found excuses to beat her, usually in concert with her husband. My sister has become frail and withered. When she was four months pregnant, her co-wife and mother-in-law tried to make her miscarry. They even went to a mullah to ask him to use spells and charms to cause a miscarriage.
One day, while Sakina was preparing lunch, her co-wife started a fight, accusing her of being late with the food and saying everyone was hungry. She made a scene and lied, shouting that Sakina had insulted her: “I’m not your servant — you just want free food!” After this performance, Sakina’s husband, mother-in-law, and co-wife attacked her together. They beat her so severely that she could neither stand nor speak. With a trembling voice, she called me: “Sister, I’m dying … help me.”
I rushed to her house where I found her drenched in blood, her entire body bruised black and blue.
I called my husband to find a taxi so we could take her to the hospital. The doctors said she had miscarried and her condition was critical because of the severe bleeding. She remained hospitalized for three days. When she returned home, her husband, co-wife, and mother-in-law again mocked and humiliated her: “Weren’t you ashamed to go to the hospital with a strange man? And if you’re still alive, why did you stay there for three days?”
Sakina became pregnant once more. Throughout this pregnancy, she suffered multiple episodes of bleeding due to beatings. Despite all the violence, she managed to give birth to twin daughters. After that, her husband, co-wife, and mother-in-law became even crueller. They told her: “You gave birth to girls. You should die from shame, yet you shamelessly remain alive.”
The violence continued through her third pregnancy. One night she called me with a shaking voice: “Sister, the pain is unbearable. I’m bleeding. Please help me.” Once again, I rushed to her home and stayed with her until morning. We managed to get her to the hospital at dawn, but Sakina was unconscious due to heavy bleeding.
Now, my sister is battling severe anemia. Her mental state is unstable; she has grown weak, thin, and her face is always pale and exhausted. She endures every form of psychological and physical torture and remains silent in the face of the cruelty around her. Sometimes, she confides in me, but I, too, feel helpless, unable to find any way to end her endless suffering. My own family refuses to intervene because of “male honour” and the fear of social shame. They insist that nothing should tarnish the “family name.”
I have seen Sakina try to obtain a divorce several times, but her husband refused, and my father is opposed to it as well. Sometimes she talks to me in a broken voice: “If it weren’t for these three children, I would have ended this hell long ago. My only fear is how my children will survive this brutality. The only reason I stay alive is because of them.”
I myself have had two miscarriages — both due to heavy housework. Once I even had to undergo a curettage, but with rest, care, and the support of my husband and his family, I recovered. My sister endured all her bleeding and pain alone. Apart from me, she received no help from her in-laws except in emergencies.
If only they had allowed her to remain unmarried after becoming a widow. If she had lived alone, without being forced into this marriage, perhaps she would not be drowning in such suffering and cruelty today.
Raihana is pen name of a freelance journalist in Afghanistan.
