Now the lives of women across the country have changed radically, their rights have been curtailed and their freedoms curtailed. Campaigners have characterized the Taliban’s orders to deny women education, remove them from their jobs and force them back under the veil of “gender apartheid”. Last month, Rukhshana Media spoke to women across the country about their experiences of life under Taliban rule.
Hijab order
Samana, Kabul I was walking home alone when I turned into a deserted alley and found two Taliban with guns slung over their shoulders. They called me a prostitute because I was uncovered and demanded to know why I wasn’t wearing a hijab. They pointed their guns in my face and one of them had his finger on the trigger. I put my head down and said, “It won’t happen again.” When I got home, I sat down and cried for an hour. I said to myself: this is a warning of what is to come. Since then I fell into a deep depression. I can’t stand looking at all my colorful clothes in my closet as they remind me of everything I’ve lost. Zahra, west Kabul After the hijab order was announced, I was caught by Taliban fighters. They asked me why I wasn’t wearing a hijab, and even though I have no intention of following their orders, I apologized and thought they would let me go. But they visited my home and told my family the next time I was caught uncovered in public they would arrest me. Since then, my father has rarely allowed me or my sisters to leave the house and says we can’t go to university. Even my siblings now know what I’m wearing and where I’m going at all times. An Afghan woman walks through the old market as a Taliban fighter stands guard, in central Kabul, May 3, 2022. Photo: Ebrahim Noroozi/AP
Travel restrictions
Zarlasht, Kabul In June, I was traveling with my brother and we were stopped at a checkpoint by Taliban fighters. First, they asked us separately to see if we were related to each other, then they asked for our national ID. When my brother said that we do not carry our identity cards with us, they got angry and one of them hit him with a rifle and was about to shoot. They made us sit there for two hours and then we had to call our families to bring IDs so we could go home. Since then I don’t dare to leave the house.
students
Sabira, Bamyan province, although it is not compulsory, we are required to wear black hijab to be allowed to enter the university. Once inside, the women are under constant surveillance. There are hijab notices on the doors and walls. I never imagined that one day, in Bamyan, all female students would be forced to live like this. I can’t believe what life is turning into here.
Islamic State attacks
Abassi, west Kabul My friend and I were chatting on the bus on the way to work in the Hazara Shia neighborhood of west Kabul when suddenly the world around us exploded. We found ourselves in the middle of the carnage. Since the Taliban took control, security has worsened and our bus was bombed by IS fighters. We later learned that many people were killed. I was injured in my leg and chest and my friend in her right leg. When the bomb went off, everything changed for me. After the Taliban took over, things were difficult, but I continued my work and was determined to live bravely. Now, after the attack, I live in constant fear. The pain of my injuries was excruciating. I’ve had five surgeries and can’t go to the bathroom or get dressed without help. But the psychological wounds are also deep. I have to drive past where the bomb exploded to get to my doctor’s appointments and every time I feel the shaking of the vehicle, the heat of the explosion and the sound of people screaming. It keeps repeating and repeating before my eyes when I try to sleep. “I dare not leave the house.” Photo: Zohra Bensemra/Reuters
Widows
Sakina, KandaharLife has not been easy for a long time. I lost my husband in an airstrike five years ago, and before the Taliban took over, I was working and selling food on the street to support my children. Now I am not allowed to work. The Taliban gave me and other widows a card to claim a sack of wheat, three liters of cooking oil and 1,000 Afghanis [£9] every three months, but that’s not enough to keep our family going. I live with three other widows and their children, but our rent is 4,0000 afghanis per month and we cannot pay it. If we can’t work, I’m worried we’ll starve. Maryam, former police officer, site protected Until the Taliban took over, I worked as a police officer. My husband had died, but I could support my two daughters with my police salary, I could give them everything they needed. Now I lost my job and the Taliban were hunting women who worked in the security services. I’m still afraid they’ll find me. For the past seven months, I have been reduced to begging on the streets to feed my girls. I sit all day on the street under a burqa so that no one recognizes me and informs me. I don’t recognize who I have become. One day, two boys threw some coins at me and one said I was a prostitute. I went home with only enough to buy two loaves of bread for my children and cried all night. Girls studying at a hidden school in an undisclosed location in Afghanistan, July 24, 2022. Photo: Lillian Suwanrumpha/AFP/Getty Images
Education
Mah Liqa, 14, protected location When I was told that I was not allowed to go to school, I was depressed and had no motivation to work and study at home. But I told myself that I had to go on for a better future and for my dreams. I have to find ways to continue learning despite the ban on girls going to school. So now every day I study English at home so that I can apply for a scholarship and maybe one day study IT abroad. I’m still trying to achieve something for myself. Samira, 18, location protected I should be in grade 12, but I’m not allowed to go to school. After the Taliban took over, I decided to turn the challenge into an opportunity, so now I buy raw materials like beads and cloth from the market and sell them to women who make traditional clothes at home. I have made some money and now I want to use it to start my own factory if the situation improves. I am proud that now I can help to support my family.
Cultural life
Khatera, artist, Herat I have invested more than half of my life working as an artist, making traditional wood carvings and designs. I was the only female engraver in my area and have created over 1,000 works of art. Ever since the Taliban came to power, art has been a dangerous business. Being a woman and an artist is even more dangerous. The Taliban said I can continue with my engravings, but I know it’s impossible. I censor myself because I don’t feel safe. I used to carve faces and figures but now I mainly print verses of the holy Quran on wood. I have to find another way to survive and forget about art. I used to spend every day in my studio, but now I go back every month or two to dust off my etchings and tools. I have auctioned off most of my gear and my friends are advising me to get out of Afghanistan. My Iranian clients are telling me to move to Iran where my work will be appreciated. But I tell them: I will stay in Afghanistan, someday things may change. A book stall set up by a group of Afghan women in Kabul to promote reading culture, May 25, 2022. Photo: EPA
Book club
Bahra, HeratIn the darkest moments and when there is no hope, we tried to follow a path that can never be closed, and that is the path of books. I come from a family of poets and writers, and I have a master’s degree. Two months after the Taliban took over Herat, four friends and I decided to start a book club. The first book we chose was a Persian translation of Clown, a 1963 novel by the German author Heinrich Böll. We hold our meetings in secret, but soon others heard about what we were doing. Now we have over 40 members from all walks of life and we have discussions on Telegram. Some of us try to meet every two weeks to discuss and critique world literature. We choose books that are available to us in Afghanistan, but also say something wider about the world, a lot about the hardships that women have had to ensure in history – what they have done to make these days bearable. We also read books written by people who lived through the second world war, as we can all identify with these survivors. It is a struggle to keep alive the spirit of the women of Herat. These book club meetings have become our sanctuary. Subscribe to Her Stage to hear directly from incredible women in the developing world about the issues that matter to them, delivered to your inbox every month: Sign up for Her Stage – check your spam folder for the confirmation email
