Eid al-Fitr — the Festival of Fast-Breaking — is a special celebration for the ending of Ramadan month, after Muslims fast for almost 30 days. This last Eid was different than all others for me.
A couple of days prior to Eid, my father purchased cakes, biscuits, drinks, dry fruits, sweets and fresh fruits to serve guests on Eid’s occasion.
(Editor Note: Rosemary Stasek, AWWP friend and former mayor of Mountain View, California, died on Thursday September 24, 2009, in Afghanistan.)
It was a Wednesday in June when I had my interview with Rosemary. She accepted me as program assistant for her organization, “A Little Help.” I was glad and I was afraid. But she was not like a boss to me. She was like a teacher.
I think green about you / I bloom, like anemone, carnation / I feel as a champion / To think about you is to think about new poem / Thinking about you… / Dreaming the world / With splendid beauty / The happy days and nights
A week before the election, because of security concerns, the people of Afghanistan faced hundreds of problems, like not being able to attend school or do their routine work. Suicide attacks took a lot of victims, and people hardly wanted to leave their homes. As the election neared, the situation got worse, with the suicide attacks and blackmails attempts from anti-governmental people and Taliban.
We were almost done with school when a Land Cruiser with UNAMA written on the sides drove up. I had a big smile on my face, because my mother was in that car. She got out with two of her colleagues. I stayed outside the principal’s room while she met with him. I usually waited for her while she met with the principal about their problems at school.
It took us eight hours to ride from Quetta, Pakistan to Kandahar, Afghanistan. On the way, there were many Afghan restaurants. I was asleep in the bus when my mother woke me.
“Yagana, aren’t you hungry or thirsty?”
I was really thirsty. “Can we get tea here?” I asked.
She said, “Yes, I am sure we can get it.”
“Disability is not an obstacle in my life. I will fulfill all of my wishes despite my disability,” vows Rahima, 22, a tailor in Farah Province.
Rahima is from a poor family of seven sisters, two brothers and kind parents. She was only two years when she became disabled, unable to stand on one foot.
“I did not know what happened to my daughter’s foot. I did not vaccinate her.
Home has the smell of loneliness / walls are crying / the apple tree in the yard is thirsty / even the World has the smell of our house / you know? / How many Saturdays have I waited?
It was a bright day; I was sitting alongside the window in the classroom. As the principal of the school entered the class, he began calling a few names, including mine, and asking us to leave the room. We were all scared, but we left the room and headed towards the yard of the school where another one-hundred girls from different schools were standing.
I was born in the Pakistani city of Peshawar, the oldest child of Afghani parents, with one brother and one sister. My childhood experiences in Afghanistan during the rule of the Taliban make me understand the difficulties people in such situations face, and makes me try my best to help my community through my education. Of these experiences, I want to speak.
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.
Afrikaans