I feel like the luckiest girl on Earth. It’s like a dream to be able to go to college in the United States. I used to hear about the United States in books only. Now I made it, and I am looking forward to studying and having my dream come true, Inshallah.
Just after I entered the university, dark times came into my life. I was forced to stay home for five years during the Taliban regime. I will never forget this long period in my life. During that time, I didn’t stop trying. I told my parents I wanted to do something. I opened a secret class for English and our own national subjects for girl students in my area.
Adalah Kabiri, a teacher at the journalism school at Herat University, applauded the opening of the center. “This is a very comfortable place for all women who work with the media,” Kabiri said. “This center has opened the door for women journalists and can help women improve their knowledge.”
We went to bed as normal but at midnight, we heard people shouting: “Wake up, wake up! Come out of your homes. Come out of your homes. An earthquake is going to happen in a few seconds.”
I saw a shop and went there where I found some potatoes and tomatoes with eggs. I bought these things. I did not have any brother; it was my responsibility when my father was out. I came back and my mother cooked some things from the eggs and potatoes, and we had some things to eat but not enough.
The story that my mother told me awakened me to some sad realities of how many Afghan women have spent their lives in the kind of suffering that would make them wish to die. However, even death can’t decrease a mother’s love, and any Afghan woman can be an angel in the form of a mother.
The first time I heard about email was on the BBC program. I sent a letter. I think it took twenty days for the letter to be delivered. I didn’t know what email was. I thought it must be an electronic pocket with a metal board and a plug to switch it on, and then you could write with a pen. I thought maybe the pen was metal too. It seemed crazy that someone could receive mail in one minute from all around the world.
“As I understand, the rate for one vote is the equivalent of two and a half dollars. For example, if I need 10,000 votes, then I have to give them at least $25,000. Impossible! First of all, I will not buy votes because it is fraud.”
“He said if I marry him, he will let my mom and sister live in his house and will support us financially and pay for Mom’s treatment. But it doesn’t end there—he wants me to stop going to school! I will marry this guy anyway. I cannot wait for my imaginary prince about whom I wrote my poems. My mom doesn’t have much time before she will lose her vision.
“My life is filled with problems,” said another worker at the factory who would only identify herself as the mother of Wakil Ahamd, her oldest son. “My husband left me and my children four years ago. I went to live with my parents. I do not even have a pillow and yet I have the power to work.
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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