Part 3/ Final Part:
The address was hard to find and there was a narrow alley that ended at a dead-end. Behind the iron gate of the building, there was a large and beautiful courtyard, and there were many cliffs behind, where smiling but suffering figures appeared. This place was called a safe house or shelter, and Shaima was in charge of this place.
“This is a guest house for girls and women who have no place to go and I protect them as I protect my eyes,” said Shaima.
Some had tents and some did not, one was reading a book, and another was grabbing her head on her knees and taking a nap. One was quiet and was looking behind the window and another was crying. No one knew what they were thinking and what was going on in their minds. No one knew anything about their problems, how their life was like before, and how difficult their life was now…
Asma is a journalist; she came to report on those women who had a dark life with their husbands and families. Not only one or two, but many of them did not want to talk. They even did not go out from their room or to another room so that no questions were asked. Among them, Ziba wanted to speak.
Asma asked her, “What is your name?”
She was quiet and paused for a moment
Asma asked her again “What should I call you?”
She replied, I am Asia.
Yeah! Asia, her new alias name.
She did not want to tell her name, because she was thinking the Taliban may find her.
Asma wanted to take a video of her. She laughed and replied, “Asma Jan, do not take pictures of me. I just want to talk” and she started.
“Anyone who reads or listens, should know about me and my life and what my fate was.” Once she was sure, and reassured, she relaxed and opened up about her grief among all other women. She narrated those five years before when she was in her early teens and had many colorful dreams, but those dreams soon shattered and collapsed. After five years, everything was still unusual for her, to the point that even though those days had passed, her beautiful eyes still became full of tears. Behind her words, there was still a fear that shook her heart, hands and even her lips between uttering words.
She remembered when she was around 7 years old and it was one of her big dreams to go out of the dark home where she grew up. She started her story from the moment she went out of her uncle’s house to see how the world looked. Before that, everything was normal, and her uncle had told her that he would take her to Kabul. She was dreaming to go out without knowing that there were predators such the Taliban who wanted to prey on her and a father who wanted to victimize her life to such predators.
She started telling her life story;
Several years had passed since I returned from my uncle’s home, and normal days of life had passed in my fathers’ village in Badakhshan. My uncle’s home was far from our home, because of that my mother took her innocent child to her brother’s home when I was newborn.
Once, I was at home, and I was making tea for the guests and I notices the calm and quiet words of the family members. They were saying; someone came. One of the family members said; he is a suitor. I thought and said to herself that a suitor must have come for my sister, because no one had said anything to me, and I had finished my argument many times that I had not decided to get married that soon. I had an older sister who was not with us in the village she was in another city of Afghanistan.
My uncle (my father’s brother) enters the room and he came to talk to me. He told me that I should get married, because my father and all my relatives are satisfied, and they are all agree with this. I was shocked and opposes in surprise, but what good is it when no one hears my voice.
From that day on, everything changed and took a dark color, and my life returned to darkness, like the room I grew up in. I did not say anything for a while, and I became more silent than before. I did not have anyone who could help me, who cared about me or someone who loved me. If there was someone, they could not say anything because everyone was afraid of the old man who was the commander of the Taliban and who was my suitor. Every time when I was saying something opposite of what my father or the Taliban says, my father started beating me. My suitor is an old man named “Lajevard”, one of the leaders of the local Taliban in Wardouj, who paid eight hundred dollars to the girl’s family to marry 14-year-old Ziba.
Ziba was crying and she could not continue to her story. Everyone in the room was also crying when they were listening to Ziba’s life story.
She maxed for a while, and when she relaxed, she continued;
My family members with extremist tendencies are all agree, they all love to have money. Especially my father, he loved money and that was one of the reasons he agreed for my marriage with the Taliban’s commander who was an old man. They did not ask from me if I do agree, and no one does not even ask for my opinion. I did not even know when and which day I engaged with that old man from the Taliban. Just a few days later, my uncle pulled a picture out of his pocket, showed that to me, and said, “this is picture of your future husband”, congratulations. I do not want to hear anything, everything is done “.
I was shocked and was not satisfied at all. How did he wanted to live with me? If marriage means experiencing the sweet taste of cohabitation, then what does it mean to impose a cowardly imposition on the family? I was asking these questions from myself and from my mother. But my mother was quiet, and she does not even talk to me, to her daughter.
I was at home when I heard my uncle’s voice. Although I loved him, but I was in a situation where I had no support and I was afraid of mistrust. My uncle (my mother’s brother) said to me: “I have nothing to do with your husband, let’s go to my house. I do not want anyone to harm you”. At that moment a spark flashed in my heart, I had a hope, but I realized later he was also lying. That light was a deception that wanted to drag me into the swamp.
As soon as I entered to my uncle’s house, the door of the room become locked on me. All my personal belongings and everything were taken from me and was beaten so badly that even after five years of damaged bone, my back still remembers those bitter days. At the same time, my father’s house was surrounded by members of Lajevard. They wanted to take me, but by force, by beatings, and threats, as they stayed at night even in the mosque near the house so that my parents do not run away.
16 days have passed. I was in the courtyard when suddenly two armed men enter the house with loud shouts. My uncle immediately locked me in a room. They had come to take me. I heard their voices saying, “We are not accustomed to your ridicule. We have been tolerating for 16 days, what does it mean for a woman to make a decision or say something extra. This is what the older people in the village said and all others must do agree”. “Lajevard sahib asked us to bring Ziba, if he is not satisfied, we will take her body away from home”.
I remembered my sister who was in Pul-e-Khumri. Her fiancé or her future husband was working in Iran and my sister also was leaving soon. I decided to go to my sister, I said to myself that she might help me.
”I’m satisfied, but first I have to go and see my sister in Pul-e-Khumri,” Ziba said, thinking otherwise.
For several days, discussions and threats get rising. Two days left to the wedding, which Lajevard finally agreed to, but with strict measures. He sent a message: “put away any negative thoughts that you have, if you had any negative thought, I will send you the cut head of your father and mother.
I went to Pul-e-Khumri under strict measures. Since my sister had already petitioned at the Baghlan police headquarters, she rushed there immediately, and my situation was catastrophic. The case of the violence about me was so acute that on the same day I was transferred to the shelter (safe house) of Pul-e-Khumri without any words. My whole body had been beaten and there were many signs of injuries.
When Lajevard and his men or members find out that my sister has helped with me, they offer her two options: to leave her fiancé and marry Lajevard in exchange for her sister, or to leave her family forever and go to Ziba because they both brought scandal. my sister Mina chose to be with me and after a while she went to Iran.
I spent seven months in Pul-e-Khumri safe house. Days and nights were full of nightmares, and the threats are getting worse and more. Both my soul and my body were hurting. Sometimes when I wanted to call my parents, they either cut my call off or say, “We do not even want your corpse anymore, you are not our daughter anymore.”
On the issue of termination of engagement, my parents were like Taliban and did not attend any hearing. They did not want it to end because they were afraid of the Taliban, and also because of money.
Later, I heard that all my little sisters have been given to the old men of Talib so that they will not kill them.
Termination of engagement is announced through the court.
After seven months in Pul-e-Khumri safe house and in the commission to take care of my situation, the roads come to a standstill.
My family members did not want me to return.
She continued;
”At the meetings for women, I was surprised that they introduced themselves as supporters of women, but they did not even give me the right to speak in tone and in those words. They reprimanded me and did not consider me a clean woman,” she said.
Then I transferred to a safe house in Kabul due to repeated threats. With the same disorganized and disturbed spirit, I decided to study and adapt to the new conditions. I started my studies and after graduating from the twelfth grade, I was accepted to a computer science university in Kabul. At the age of 22, I spent my days and nights without seeing my family for more than five years which was very hard for me. Although I studied and tried, this was not the future I wanted and was dreaming of. This cozy corner full of nightmares was not my share of life that is constantly disturbed and scared and still waiting for someone to kill me in seconds…
She talked for almost half a day, and everyone there was crying.
Ziba studied her school from safe house, and when she started university, she went to Kabul university girls’ hostel because she was safe there.
Now she is graduated from university, she could get what she was dreaming when she was a kid. But still, it is very hard to forget her family and her dark life. After she graduated from university, she started working for girls and children rights.
THE END
