The Martyrdom of Abdul Rahim Was a Horrible and Ominous Occurrence

Narrator: Mohammad Ali Alizada (brother)

Victim: Abdul Rahim Alizada

Date of the incident: 23 July 2016

Location of the incident: Dehmazang, Kabul City

I have three brothers. Unfortunately, we have lost Abdul Rahim and now I have two brothers. I am the eldest son of the family and the Martyr was our youngest brother. He attended school up to sixth grade in the Varas District, in the Province of Bamiyan. Back then, when we lived in Varas, the local school was not of a good standard as it lacked teachers. The martyr, Abdul Rahim, attended both modern and religious schools. His teachers were very happy with him because he was a good student in all areas. He would always get top grades at school. His hard work inspired our move to Kabul. Another reason for our move was that we did not own any agricultural land in the village and our financial situation was not very good. In Kabul, we rented a house in Chindawol, near the Ashiqan Arefan Mountain. Abdul Rahim attended the Ashiqan Arefan High School up to 8th grade. Later, he was transferred to the Abdul Rahim Shahid High School where he studied up to 12th grade. With the small amount of money we had saved through years of labor, we bought three Biswas of land (a traditional measure of land) in Dasht Barchi. Following his graduation from high school, he took the public university entrance exam and was admitted to the Law Department of Bamiyan University.

In Bamiyan, we lived together. He used to attend classes, but he was not satisfied with the classes or the teachers. One day, he told me that he wanted to return to Kabul to get a good quality education. In addition, he was worried about our parents. He was very fond of my parents and they, too, loved him very much because he always prayed on time. It may be hard to believe, but he was a young man who could complete the recitation of the Holy Quran within a week. When I discussed the matter with my parents, they agreed that we should return to Kabul.

My other brothers do not live with us; we live separately. One of my brothers has a good financial situation, and when he noticed that Abdul Rahim had talent, he enrolled him in Goharshad University, where that brother had studied Economics for four years. The martyr and I lived with my parents. Some nights, when I went out of my room, I noticed the light in Abdul Rahim's room was still turned on. When I would go to him, I could see him sitting with a blanket on his feet, reading a book. Some nights, he continued reading up until 1 or 2 am because he was very interested in education and reading. That's why we all made sure he had access to everything he needed so he could get on with his studies in peace. We all love and respect our parents, but the Martyr was very different from us. He would talk to them, listen to them, and had a very close relationship with them both.

He was a sociable and good-natured person who was loved by all his friends and acquaintances. After he completed his work and his studies, he would come to our room at night with a book in his hand. I have three children and he would help them with their school assignments, read books to them, and check their homework. He always advised them to study so they could have a better future. I have just a little education. I can only read and write. That's why he would use me as an example for them. My children attend both private and public schools. He always took time for each of them and asked them about their lessons. On the street where we live, he encouraged all the neighboring children to pursue their education.

During Nowruz this year, we suggested to him that he should get married and start a family. He refused and said, “I need to stand on my own two feet first, improve my financial situation, and find a good job. Only then could I think about choosing a wife. Furthermore, our parents have aged and need more care. I can't take care of them properly, let alone get a wife.” But our father insisted, saying, “I have lived for 93 years. I have lived my life and I wish to see you build a family and become the owner of your life. I owe you this and I want to get it off my shoulders. I have enough money to help you start a family and it would put my mind at ease.” He accepted my father’s wish and got engaged. He got married on the 15th of Sha’ban (22 May 2016). After his wedding, he tried hard to find a good job but did not find anything suitable. In the Tabassum Movement [the grassroots movement created after the execution of 9-year-old Shukria and 6 other Hazara in November 2015], he was the first person to encourage our people to come together. He said that it was our inalienable right to advocate for our innocent travelers. He started working, running a shop to provide for his family. He used to work in the shop until 9:00 PM and would come home late. After he was killed, when anyone knocks at our door at 9 o'clock in the evening, we automatically think he has come home.

Before the demonstration, Abdul Rahim had called his father in-law's house and said, "Your daughter has not visited your home since her marriage. I got a job and I'm going to Baghlan. If you are available today, come and collect your daughter." He was just kidding. His father in-law said, “Why didn't you tell me earlier, it is 12 o'clock at night, and it is not possible for me to come for my daughter today.” My brother insisted that they should come on that same night because he and his friends were planning to go to Baghlan for work the next day.

My wife recounted how he had performed ablution, prayed, read some verses of the Holy Quran, and had taken a piece of paper and written: “If I get martyred in tomorrow's demonstration, bury me on Haji Nabi Hill.” He had taken a photo of himself out of an album and had said, “print this photo on my tombstone.” He even pointed out that “Haji Hossain will not do this. When Muhammad Ali returns from Iran, give him my photo and tell him to engrave the photo on my tombstone.” He specifically asked my wife “not to tell my parents anything about this and ask my wife to live with my parents for a while and if I get a share of my father's inheritance, to give some to my wife.” My wife then got angry with him, and told him, “Have you gone crazy?” She even tore up the photo he had given her. Abdul Rahim Alizada got upset then, and said, “I am sure that, God willing, I will be martyred tomorrow.” My wife was angry and told him that instead of saying such nonsense, he should have been with his wife that night. She asked him to stop talking about such things. Abdul Rahim even told my son, “I am not crazy. Your mother is crazy; I gave her my photo to be engraved on my tombstone, and she tears up the photo. If your father calls, tell him ‘My uncle asks us to bury him in Haj Nabi Town and put his photo on his tombstone.’” My wife begged him not to join the demonstration.

I called him to tell him that there had been a failed coup in Turkiye some time ago. I told him the situation was not good, and that God forbid an incident might happen. On the day of the demonstration, Abdul Rahim left the house, pretending he was going to work at the shop. He told my father, “I am going to see my mother and nephew in the shop.” Once he was there, he asked my mother to go home and have her breakfast. When my mother was about to go home, he bade her farewell and held her hand, and told her, “Forgive my sin, my dear mother.” When my mother saw the tears in his eyes, she got angry and told him, "What is happening to you today, I won't forgive you. Go and drink tea and don't talk nonsense." When my mother moved away from him, he asked her again to forgive him. My mother said her heart was shaken. He went to my mother and she hugged him and kissed his face and said she forgave him and pardoned him as a mother. He then told my mother, “Now that you have forgiven me, I feel lighter.” Then, he and his friends went to join the demonstration.

Back then, I was in Iran. I was following the protests through Facebook. I called him at 9 am, and he answered my call. There was so much noise in the background, with people chanting slogans for justice. We were not able to talk for long, and he said, “I will call you later. I can't talk now.” We hung up the phone. I called him at 12:45 pm. He said that the weather was hot and they wanted to set up a tent. He said he was holding a tent pole in one hand and a phone in the other hand. He said his mobile phone battery was low and could be dead anytime. He said that if the demonstration continued, they would set up a tent. Otherwise, they would go home. I was working as a guard in Iran and I usually rested for a few hours during the day so that I would be fresh for the night. Just before I wanted to rest, my uncle called me and said that there had been an explosion in Kabul. I hurriedly turned on the TV, but the antenna was not working. In that moment, I sensed that I would never see Abdul Rahim alive again. I felt so helpless; I was running around speechless.

I had put my phone on charge in the room, and I was searching for it. My [maternal] cousin, who was working with me, noticed my bewilderment and asked, "What are you looking for?" I told him that I was looking for my phone as I wanted to make a call to Kabul. He told me that my phone was charging in the room. I had lost the ability to walk. I told him to bring it to me quickly. He brought my phone and I called both Abdul Rahim’s phone numbers but he didn't answer. I called my other brother but he didn't answer either. I called home but no one answered. I asked my cousin to call a travel agency and get a ticket for me. “I am going to Afghanistan tomorrow,” I said. When he saw my nervousness, he asked what had happened. He said, “You have only been here a month, why do you want to go back already?” But when he saw my distress, he called the travel agency to send me a ticket via their employee.

I was getting dressed when my [paternal] cousin called me. I was so distressed as I talked to him, he asked me what had happened. I told him there had been an explosion in Afghanistan. He said that explosions and suicides attacks were a daily occurrence in Kabul and Afghanistan. With difficulty, I managed to explain to him that there had been an explosion close to where the demonstrators were. When he heard that, he said, “I will be there in five minutes.” The employee of the travel agency brought me the ticket. My cousin arrived, took me to the terminal, and I travelled to Afghanistan.

When I reached my brother Hossain by phone, he explained that Abdul Rahim had been injured and was in the hospital. I opened my Facebook app, and noticed that one of my brother's classmates from Sarab (Ghazni), had posted a note on his Facebook page: “Abdul Rahim, one of my university classmates is injured and needs blood.” My eyes were full of tears. I could not see the mobile screen properly. My cousin took the phone off me, and when I got the phone back from him, I could no longer find that page. I asked him what he had done with that post. He said that the post itself had disappeared; he did not do anything.

I called my son. When he answered the phone, I could hear crying in the background and I knew then that Abdul Rahim was dead/martyred. After that, I don't remember how they took me to the terminal. Everything was incomprehensible to me. After some time, my cousin told me to get out of the car. When I regained my senses, I found myself in front of my brother's house. I went inside and saw a lot of shoes behind the door. I passed out then, and when I regained consciousness, I found myself in my uncle's arms. He was crying and comforting us at the same time.

The martyrdom of Abdul Rahim was a horrible and ominous occurrence for all of us because he was very dear to the whole family. My parents still cry so much when they remember him and I cannot console them. Some time ago, when I was reciting the Holy Qur'an, I found a hand-written piece of paper. I can’t read and I saw there were a few signatures on the paper. I called my son and told him, “Take this piece of paper to your uncle, Abdul Rahim, to read it. I don't know what is written on it.” My son cried out, telling me, “Dad, my uncle, Abdul Rahim, was killed and is no longer alive.” Our family will forever be in pain for losing Abdul Rahim. This pain will never leave our hearts.