What I want to say about my father is that he is my comfort in times of pain, my courage in times of defeat and my hope in times of despair. Fathers are those precious gifts of God whose fingers we hold as we learn how to walk, someone whose arms give us a sense of security and whose smiles give us hope.
In a country where girls are forced into
Begin with the sentence: Someone once told me…
“I wish I was brave enough as you are so I could speak out for my education. You were brave enough to stand in front of your uncles and say that you are studying and you don’t want to be engaged or married. I am engaged now and after a year I am going to be married. My mother-in-law told me, ‘Stay at
For many Afghans, fear is not a part of life, but the heart of life. I have grown up seeing the fear of war, death, rape, poverty and life in the faces of those around me and those close to my heart. It wouldn’t be exaggerating if I say that I have seen people living and dying in fear. Whenever I look at an Afghan child with dirt on his
It was during the Taliban regime. In that time, my cousin was a shopkeeper. He had a gold shop. His shop was in a four-story market in the old town. He was young, maybe around 18 or so, and my younger brother was working at his shop as an assistant. During that period, boys were not allowed to grow their hair long or shape it in a nice way. There
Early in morning, Ballal, a six-year-old boy, bought a couple flowers from a shop. He kept them hidden, and did not show his mother. They had been invited to a ceremony which was to take place in the Women’s Affairs Department.
Ballal gave his mother his gift of flowers in front of many women, and got a kiss from his mother. The scene was beautiful for all the mothers who, along
I received a call from Omar, the program manager in NPC, for a job interview. When I heard his voice I already knew he was someone very close and special to me. His voice was like a song when you hear it for the first time. It was like the voice of birds singing alone on a tree at night. Who is he? I asked myself. Why do I feel
In the hottest summer of Kandahar, my family, including my uncles and grandparents, used to sit every evening in the yard chatting and eating dinner together. One night we were busy having dinner when an enormous explosion occurred in the neighboring house of one of the important warlords. “I saw the home next to ours burning,” Mom said. Everyone started running to survive, because a portion of our house was
When I was child I wished to be a doctor like my uncle, who wears a white shirt and everyday checks on lots of ill people. But one day, all of my wishes were destroyed. It was the day the Taliban came to our country, Afghanistan.
I was in school, in 8th grade. We were playing sports in the yard, where there were trees and no grass and no water. We
The Afghan Women's Writing Project : Dedicated to the Memory of Zarmeena
Security notice:
The security situation can be difficult for many women in Afghanistan, especially those who are determined to further their education or those who frankly tell their stories. Out of concern for their safety, this blog will not use family names or specific locators.
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