It’s hard for us in our safe little island … well, let’s start that again. For those of us who have our own home, a decent enough pension or a secure and decently paid job, who live in a quiet part of our island and don’t have to suffer from discrimination (which actually covers quite a lot of people in this country even though I know it’s not everyone by any means) to imagine what it must be like to be a woman in Afghanistan right now. It’s the women I am thinking about on the whole.
Afghanistan’s Minister of Education Rangina Hamidi says she is fearful "like every woman in Afghanistan"
“I might face consequences… I guess that’s the price we pay for trying to make the world a little better”
Reports like this abound:
“An Afghan female student living in Kabul said police were evacuating women from dormitories because the Taliban would beat women who do not wear burqas. And she said she and her sisters had to hide their IDs, diplomas and certificates, which would put them in danger if seen by the Taliban.
The female students were laughed at by some of the men.
“Go and put on your chadari [burqa],” one called out. “It is your last days of being out on the streets,” said another. “I will marry four of you in one day,” said a third.”
“I could not stop my tears when I heard the stories of some families,’ that same student wrote. “One had lost their son in the war and didn’t have any money to pay the taxi fare to Kabul, so they gave their daughter-in-law away in exchange for transportation. How can the value of a woman be equal to the cost of a journey?”
And I try to imagine the feelings of the daughter-in-law. So much for the protection of the family you married in to - just another bargaining tool!
The same student went on:
“As a woman, I feel like I am the victim of this political war that men started. I felt like I can no longer laugh out loud, I can no longer listen to my favourite songs, I can no longer meet my friends in our favourite cafe, I can no longer wear my favourite yellow dress or pink lipstick. And I can no longer go to my job or finish the university degree that I worked for years to achieve.
I loved doing my nails. Today, as I was on my way home, I glanced at the beauty salon where I used to go for manicures. The shop front, which had been decorated with beautiful pictures of girls, had been whitewashed overnight.”
All those things we take for granted - our own choice of music, clothes, make-up, and more importantly studies and career - have disappeared for them almost overnight. And it seems to have been just a veneer of modernisation, easy to remove.
And now Kabul is in the hands of the Taliban. One report went like this:
“When president Ashraf Ghani slipped out of Afghanistan with no warning, he took with him any glimpse of hope left for the nation’s women – especially those who are educated and outspoken.
Aaisha (not her real name) is that and more. As a prominent news anchor and political talk show host, she has watched her life’s efforts crumble in what felt like seconds.
“For many years, I worked as a journalist … to raise the voice of Afghans, especially Afghan women, but now our identity is being destroyed and nothing has been done by us to deserve this,” Aaisha said on Monday.
“In the last 24 hours, our lives have changed and we have been confined to our homes, and death threatens us at every moment.
“We see silence filled with fear of the Taliban around us.”
Female Afghan journalists tell of a once free and bustling Kabul now filled with silence and fear as they destroy traces of their identity and work to avoid Taliban militants.
Aaisha is one of dozens of female Afghan journalists who have communicated with the Guardian over the past weeks, documenting the fall of their nation to share the devastation with the world. Now they fear that reporting without fear or favour will be the very thing that costs them their future.”
Some people with the means to do so are trying to get planes out of the country. And that is leading to chaos and panic at the airport in Kabul, with people trying to force their way onto planes and even some clinging to planes as they take off. Most don’t have the means to get out.
People who left Afghanistan years ago look on from places like Australia and feel helpless abput the relatives still in their home country:
“Honestly, I just feel numb,” said Huma Mia, a grandmother and migrant who arrived in Australia in the 90s. She said her sister, brother and cousins all live in Kabul and have been in hiding for four days.
“They’re just hiding in their own homes, like hostages. They can’t go anywhere. They won’t leave even for basic things, like water, milk or bread. My cousin said everybody is just wondering when they’re going to die. And how they’re going to die.”
We should be thankful that for us life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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