Please be aware that the content showcased in this museum is of a highly sensitive nature
is a victim/survivor of a/an
Addtional information
Date of birth:
1954
Village/Town of birth:
Kamana
Province of birth:
Herat: Kohsan
Gender:
Male
Ethnicity:
Tajik
Education:
Unknown
Date of the main incident:
1984
Place of the main incident:
Karezkhoni, Robatsangi, Herat
Related incident:
Incident description
Qurban was a 30-year-old farmer in Kareezkhoni Village, Rubat Sangi District, Herat Province, Afghanistan. In the summer of 1984, while working in the fields, he was killed by shrapnel from a bomb dropped by Soviet aircraft. At the time, his wife Dasta-Gul was 20-years-old. They had two young sons.
AHRDO Archive
Alleged type of harm
Alleged type of crimes
Province:
Herat: Robatsangi
Latitude:
Longitude:
Latitude:
Longitude:
A Shrapnel Caused His Death
This story was recorded on April 29, 2019 in the local office of the AIHRC in Herat Province. Ms Dasta-Gul describes the story of grief, love, and the years after the loss of her husband with patience and in detail.
Narrator: Dasta-Gul (victim’s wife)
Victim’s name: Qurban (30 yrs)
Date of Accident: Summer of 1984, 11:00 oclock
Place of Accident: Kareezkhoni Village, Rubat Sangi District, Herat Province
Type of accident: bomb shrapnel (bombed by Soviet aircrafts)
My name is Dasta-Gul and Qurban was my husband. It has been 35 years since my home was wrecked. He was thirty-years-old and I was twenty-years-old in 1989. It was July, yes, it was the proper time of the year for farming. The Soviets killed him; their bomb killed him. The Soviet aircraft killed him. He was killed in Kareezkhoni Village, part of Rubat Sangi District. It was eleven in the morning. We were married for seven years; he was killed in the eighth year. We had two children, one aged 2 and the other a 9-month-old breastfeeding infant. Yes, two children. We had two children and both are sons. We were married for just 7 years.
He was a farmer and used to raise livestock. He harvested wheat and oats. Agriculture was his only profession. He had gone over to harvest wheat from the fields when an aircraft dropped a bomb. He died among the wheat crops. A lot of people, around nine or ten, were killed. In that village, around a hundred or more people were killed. The tanks and aircraft killed all of them in that village. They were all working in their fields. Those villagers who were inside their houses were also bombarded and got buried under the rubble, poor souls. Our house was far [from the houses which were bombed].
A member of my family informed us that a person has been killed in the fields, and asked us to collect the corpse [and nine other martyrs] and take them to the mosque. Yes, I saw him. The shrapnel had entered the back of his head and exited from his abdomen. That one shrapnel caused his death. I did not have anything after my husband’s death. Out of destitution, I turned to carpet weaving. Until my children turned ten years old, I was busy weaving day and night. No one helped me. No one cared for us. They did not care that my orphaned children were hungry and alone with me, who owned nothing.
Yes, the fields on which my husband grew wheat belonged to us. They [Qurban’s family] gave a plot of land to my orphaned children. My children had uncles, a grandmother, and aunts. I asked them to give only two acres of the land on which my husband worked to my boys. I worked hard by myself. I wove carpets, and went from one to the other to make ends meet. I did not have any other assistance.
I sent my boys to school. After they finished school, we came to Herat City for them to go to university. Ah, after my eldest son did not learn in university, I sent him to Iran as a laborer. My eldest son is named Nur-Ul Deen, and the youngest is named Saif-Ul Deen. They went to Iran and worked hard. They also got married from their hard work. They did not have sisters who could be married off and from their marriage’s gifts, I could have taken wives for my sons and settled them down. My poor boys worked hard and built lives for themselves. I used to live with my in-laws but they did not like me. They would always argue and tell me to give up my sons and re-marry. I told them I will not marry and even if it kills me, I will not give up my children. What can a second marriage give me when I did not gain anything from my first marriage? The marriage life which I had was one where my husband never once told me what to do or not do. God took him from me, his death came soon.
During the seven years of us being married, he never once told me to do or not to do this or that. That is because I was content with him, and until today, I have stayed in his memory and for his sons. When you are content with your spouse, even after they are gone, your heart does not allow you to think of someone else or to leave their children. My brother-in-law would bring a bag of wheat and rice. My parents also helped and asked me to bring my children to live with them. My conscious could not accept this so I worked and wove rugs by myself. I never folded the carpet loom close; it was always open as I constantly worked on weaving rugs. It was like whenever I finished one rug, I would start another the very next day. What else could I have done, I was hungry and poor, I had no other choice. I had to do it in order to make ends meet and survive absolute poverty because I had no other source of income. The situation at that time was not good, but I do not know why they bombed our village. However, the [neighbouring] village was bombed heavily. They bombed that village a lot. My husband was also killed there but I do not understand exactly the reason why they bombed. It has been thirty years since and my mind has gotten weak as well as my memory and I no longer remember why they killed our village’s people.
When my home was ruined after my husband’s death, I was twenty-years-old. I was married off at the age of fourteen. I was married for 7 years when my husband died. It has been whether eighteen or twenty years, what is the sum of seven years and fourteen years? It has been twenty years, twenty. My husband was from outside my family, I was happy with him that is why I have remained unmarried until this day in his memory. I loved him, do you understand? When you love a person, even if there are hundreds of others around you, your feelings for them will not change. This is why I did not accept anything else after him. By God, he did not have anything. My carpet was the earth underneath and my roof was the sky. I just loved him and I loved my sons. He had a good personality and a muscular figure. He was very lucky meaning when he was in a group gathering, he could make everyone laugh till tears would come out of their eyes due to his good humor and manners. But what can I do now that God has taken him from me?
When my [eldest] son was in Iran, he studied till eleventh grade and after he came back to Afghanistan, he finished his last year of high school. However, I do not know what major he studied at university. I did not ask, my dear, I did not ask him. He studies half of the day and the other half he works as a watchman for a school. He sweeps classroom floors and arranges the desks and chairs. He also has the keys to the school, as if he is the watchman of the elementary school. He gets five or six thousand Afghanis per month. My second son is also married. Thankfully, he is also married. I have three grandchildren from one son, and four from the other. I live with the two of my daughters-in-law in Wahdat Village, in the town of Abulwaleed which is part of the Injeel District of Herat Province. I am satisfied with my sons, thankfully. My sons have never ill-treated me. They say ‘dear mother’ at the beginning of their sentence and one at the end of their sentence. Their wives are not from our family so naturally, they might act irritated or say something to me, but when my sons treat me well, I have nothing to do with my daughters-in-law because my sons are important to me. Yes, my sons have a lot of respect for me; they respect me a lot. When I get sick, they borrow money for my medications and doctor’s visits so that I get treated. They borrow money from others so that their mother can get better. I have such dear sons and my heart is happy from them. One of my grandchildren passed last year and that broke my heart. He was only eleven-years-old. They said he had an incurable illness. They said he had cancer and his lungs had been destroyed. We took him to Kabul and brought his body back to Herat. He was only eleven-years-old and in fourth grade.
I am happy with my sons, my dear. My sons also love me a lot. I pleaded to God that my sons do not have a father, what would become of them? They could become addicts and junkies; they could become gamblers. However, thank God, they grew up to become really modest and decent men. My children are virtuous and chaste; they do not have any addictions, thankfully. My boys do not have any faults, they are clean and virtuous. I am thankful to God that I have good sons, they are decent people. I shall share the ache of my heart with the women of Afghanistan. I shall say how much I suffered and went through to raise my boys. I pray to God that my efforts do not go in vain and make my decent sons even more decent to people. And if they are friends, make them even better friends to others. I only want to say that. Some women ask me how my sons are and I respond that thank God, my life is completely good. I am not unhappy with my sons or their wives. Thank God, they are very nice. I have a very good life. My relatives ask how I manage with my sons and I tell them that my life, in general, is good and that I am completely content with my sons. They turned out to be decent people, they are humane. They do not bother people. On their university campus, there are around two thousand girls and boys studying, but they do not bother them or the girls there. They are such strong-willed sons.
Yes, I love my sons a lot, how can I not love them? For them, I have gotten beaten, verbally abused, and even been charmed with a talisman so I could leave my boys. They cast a magic charm on me so I would leave my sons and go back to my father’s house. By God that I am telling the truth, my dear. I went to a Hajji and he told me that I have been charmed to leave my sons and re-marry. By God, they did everything they could to me so I would leave my sons but God made my love for them so strong that nothing could separate us.
My daughters-in-law are unemployed. When we were in the village, they used to weave carpet a bit but after coming to Herat City, they no longer work as there is no work here. No one buys handmade rugs anymore. My daughters-in-law are busy with house chores and with taking care of their children. Their husbands (Dastagul’s sons) make ends meet now. I tell them that I was able to bring up two orphaned boys through carpet weaving, why do you not work? They tell me that I had the willpower and courage to do that, they do not have that. Ah! [Laughing] They tell me I had a lot of courage to do that; that I had a lot of vitamins and in comparison, put their vitamins in shame. [Laughing] They do not wish to work and cannot work. Yes, I told them I got weak because of work, my eyes lost their power, and my hands and feet don’t work anymore. I have gotten weak from all that work and now, it is on my sons’ shoulders to bring food. I can no longer work. There is a dent in my hand where I held scissors while weaving carpets. My hand has gone limp now because I would constantly work on the carpet loom and my eyes have gotten weak.
My sons tell me, “Mother! Even if we take you to Mecca [for pilgrimage], we cannot repay you even for one night of you taking care of us.” This is life. I suffered a lot, got beaten up, received verbal abuse, and heard all kinds of things. I would tremble day and night like an animal getting slaughtered for fear that someone would take my sons away from me. I suffered all kinds of pain. My sons would know my value after all. Now that they have grown up, I tell them about my suffering. They tell me that they could not have done anything because they were young and did not understand. Some mothers who raised their orphaned children were kicked out of the homes by their sons. Meaning, they kicked out their poor mother. There are children like this. There are children like this in our village.
Still, I thank God that my sons are decent men. Who knows if I will live ten more years or not? Only God knows. My youngest son says, “Mother! Do not fret. Do not worry too much. Mother! Your presence is a blessing to us. You are our hope. Your shadow over us is a blessing.” But I tell them that now that have wives and their own families, forget about my shadow over them. My sons tell me, “No, your shadow and presence are a blessing to us.” My boys did not have a father so they only had their mother, they received love only from their mother. Only we know a mother’s pain. For their peace of mind, I tell them that, God willing, I shall remain like a cloud that provides shade to you. I am very much pleased with my sons. They ask me about their father like how he looked, his height, and his figure. And no ease their minds, I tell them that their father looked like their uncles. They look at their father’s photos and constantly ask about his height and face. They tell me, “Mother, if our father were alive, God knows how much better our lives would have been.” For their comfort, I tell them their father was not the only one who was martyred. There are thousands of other orphaned children who grew up in similar circumstances without their fathers. I tell them that their father’s life was that long. Yes, sometimes they ask me about their father all day, twenty-four hours. They love their father so much that when my youngest son went to Iran, he took his father’s photo to make a bigger print and frame it. They always miss their father. Still, to ease their pain, I tell them that that person does not have a father and this person lost their father in an accident so that they do not suffer too much because of their father’s absence. Their hearts find comfort in that and they share their pain with me.
Qurban was a 30-year-old farmer in Kareezkhoni Village, Rubat Sangi District, Herat Province, Afghanistan. In the summer of 1984, while working in the fields, he was killed by shrapnel from a bomb dropped by Soviet aircraft. At the time, his wife Dasta-Gul was 20-years-old. They had two young sons.
A Shrapnel Caused His Death
This story was recorded on April 29, 2019 in the local office of the AIHRC in Herat Province. Ms Dasta-Gul describes the story of grief, love, and the years after the loss of her husband with patience and in detail.
Narrator: Dasta-Gul (victim’s wife)
Victim’s name: Qurban (30 yrs)
Date of Accident: Summer of 1984, 11:00 oclock
Place of Accident: Kareezkhoni Village, Rubat Sangi District, Herat Province
Type of accident: bomb shrapnel (bombed by Soviet aircrafts)
My name is Dasta-Gul and Qurban was my husband. It has been 35 years since my home was wrecked. He was thirty-years-old and I was twenty-years-old in 1989. It was July, yes, it was the proper time of the year for farming. The Soviets killed him; their bomb killed him. The Soviet aircraft killed him. He was killed in Kareezkhoni Village, part of Rubat Sangi District. It was eleven in the morning. We were married for seven years; he was killed in the eighth year. We had two children, one aged 2 and the other a 9-month-old breastfeeding infant. Yes, two children. We had two children and both are sons. We were married for just 7 years.
He was a farmer and used to raise livestock. He harvested wheat and oats. Agriculture was his only profession. He had gone over to harvest wheat from the fields when an aircraft dropped a bomb. He died among the wheat crops. A lot of people, around nine or ten, were killed. In that village, around a hundred or more people were killed. The tanks and aircraft killed all of them in that village. They were all working in their fields. Those villagers who were inside their houses were also bombarded and got buried under the rubble, poor souls. Our house was far [from the houses which were bombed].
A member of my family informed us that a person has been killed in the fields, and asked us to collect the corpse [and nine other martyrs] and take them to the mosque. Yes, I saw him. The shrapnel had entered the back of his head and exited from his abdomen. That one shrapnel caused his death. I did not have anything after my husband’s death. Out of destitution, I turned to carpet weaving. Until my children turned ten years old, I was busy weaving day and night. No one helped me. No one cared for us. They did not care that my orphaned children were hungry and alone with me, who owned nothing.
Yes, the fields on which my husband grew wheat belonged to us. They [Qurban’s family] gave a plot of land to my orphaned children. My children had uncles, a grandmother, and aunts. I asked them to give only two acres of the land on which my husband worked to my boys. I worked hard by myself. I wove carpets, and went from one to the other to make ends meet. I did not have any other assistance.
I sent my boys to school. After they finished school, we came to Herat City for them to go to university. Ah, after my eldest son did not learn in university, I sent him to Iran as a laborer. My eldest son is named Nur-Ul Deen, and the youngest is named Saif-Ul Deen. They went to Iran and worked hard. They also got married from their hard work. They did not have sisters who could be married off and from their marriage’s gifts, I could have taken wives for my sons and settled them down. My poor boys worked hard and built lives for themselves. I used to live with my in-laws but they did not like me. They would always argue and tell me to give up my sons and re-marry. I told them I will not marry and even if it kills me, I will not give up my children. What can a second marriage give me when I did not gain anything from my first marriage? The marriage life which I had was one where my husband never once told me what to do or not do. God took him from me, his death came soon.
During the seven years of us being married, he never once told me to do or not to do this or that. That is because I was content with him, and until today, I have stayed in his memory and for his sons. When you are content with your spouse, even after they are gone, your heart does not allow you to think of someone else or to leave their children. My brother-in-law would bring a bag of wheat and rice. My parents also helped and asked me to bring my children to live with them. My conscious could not accept this so I worked and wove rugs by myself. I never folded the carpet loom close; it was always open as I constantly worked on weaving rugs. It was like whenever I finished one rug, I would start another the very next day. What else could I have done, I was hungry and poor, I had no other choice. I had to do it in order to make ends meet and survive absolute poverty because I had no other source of income. The situation at that time was not good, but I do not know why they bombed our village. However, the [neighbouring] village was bombed heavily. They bombed that village a lot. My husband was also killed there but I do not understand exactly the reason why they bombed. It has been thirty years since and my mind has gotten weak as well as my memory and I no longer remember why they killed our village’s people.
When my home was ruined after my husband’s death, I was twenty-years-old. I was married off at the age of fourteen. I was married for 7 years when my husband died. It has been whether eighteen or twenty years, what is the sum of seven years and fourteen years? It has been twenty years, twenty. My husband was from outside my family, I was happy with him that is why I have remained unmarried until this day in his memory. I loved him, do you understand? When you love a person, even if there are hundreds of others around you, your feelings for them will not change. This is why I did not accept anything else after him. By God, he did not have anything. My carpet was the earth underneath and my roof was the sky. I just loved him and I loved my sons. He had a good personality and a muscular figure. He was very lucky meaning when he was in a group gathering, he could make everyone laugh till tears would come out of their eyes due to his good humor and manners. But what can I do now that God has taken him from me?
When my [eldest] son was in Iran, he studied till eleventh grade and after he came back to Afghanistan, he finished his last year of high school. However, I do not know what major he studied at university. I did not ask, my dear, I did not ask him. He studies half of the day and the other half he works as a watchman for a school. He sweeps classroom floors and arranges the desks and chairs. He also has the keys to the school, as if he is the watchman of the elementary school. He gets five or six thousand Afghanis per month. My second son is also married. Thankfully, he is also married. I have three grandchildren from one son, and four from the other. I live with the two of my daughters-in-law in Wahdat Village, in the town of Abulwaleed which is part of the Injeel District of Herat Province. I am satisfied with my sons, thankfully. My sons have never ill-treated me. They say ‘dear mother’ at the beginning of their sentence and one at the end of their sentence. Their wives are not from our family so naturally, they might act irritated or say something to me, but when my sons treat me well, I have nothing to do with my daughters-in-law because my sons are important to me. Yes, my sons have a lot of respect for me; they respect me a lot. When I get sick, they borrow money for my medications and doctor’s visits so that I get treated. They borrow money from others so that their mother can get better. I have such dear sons and my heart is happy from them. One of my grandchildren passed last year and that broke my heart. He was only eleven-years-old. They said he had an incurable illness. They said he had cancer and his lungs had been destroyed. We took him to Kabul and brought his body back to Herat. He was only eleven-years-old and in fourth grade.
I am happy with my sons, my dear. My sons also love me a lot. I pleaded to God that my sons do not have a father, what would become of them? They could become addicts and junkies; they could become gamblers. However, thank God, they grew up to become really modest and decent men. My children are virtuous and chaste; they do not have any addictions, thankfully. My boys do not have any faults, they are clean and virtuous. I am thankful to God that I have good sons, they are decent people. I shall share the ache of my heart with the women of Afghanistan. I shall say how much I suffered and went through to raise my boys. I pray to God that my efforts do not go in vain and make my decent sons even more decent to people. And if they are friends, make them even better friends to others. I only want to say that. Some women ask me how my sons are and I respond that thank God, my life is completely good. I am not unhappy with my sons or their wives. Thank God, they are very nice. I have a very good life. My relatives ask how I manage with my sons and I tell them that my life, in general, is good and that I am completely content with my sons. They turned out to be decent people, they are humane. They do not bother people. On their university campus, there are around two thousand girls and boys studying, but they do not bother them or the girls there. They are such strong-willed sons.
Yes, I love my sons a lot, how can I not love them? For them, I have gotten beaten, verbally abused, and even been charmed with a talisman so I could leave my boys. They cast a magic charm on me so I would leave my sons and go back to my father’s house. By God that I am telling the truth, my dear. I went to a Hajji and he told me that I have been charmed to leave my sons and re-marry. By God, they did everything they could to me so I would leave my sons but God made my love for them so strong that nothing could separate us.
My daughters-in-law are unemployed. When we were in the village, they used to weave carpet a bit but after coming to Herat City, they no longer work as there is no work here. No one buys handmade rugs anymore. My daughters-in-law are busy with house chores and with taking care of their children. Their husbands (Dastagul’s sons) make ends meet now. I tell them that I was able to bring up two orphaned boys through carpet weaving, why do you not work? They tell me that I had the willpower and courage to do that, they do not have that. Ah! [Laughing] They tell me I had a lot of courage to do that; that I had a lot of vitamins and in comparison, put their vitamins in shame. [Laughing] They do not wish to work and cannot work. Yes, I told them I got weak because of work, my eyes lost their power, and my hands and feet don’t work anymore. I have gotten weak from all that work and now, it is on my sons’ shoulders to bring food. I can no longer work. There is a dent in my hand where I held scissors while weaving carpets. My hand has gone limp now because I would constantly work on the carpet loom and my eyes have gotten weak.
My sons tell me, “Mother! Even if we take you to Mecca [for pilgrimage], we cannot repay you even for one night of you taking care of us.” This is life. I suffered a lot, got beaten up, received verbal abuse, and heard all kinds of things. I would tremble day and night like an animal getting slaughtered for fear that someone would take my sons away from me. I suffered all kinds of pain. My sons would know my value after all. Now that they have grown up, I tell them about my suffering. They tell me that they could not have done anything because they were young and did not understand. Some mothers who raised their orphaned children were kicked out of the homes by their sons. Meaning, they kicked out their poor mother. There are children like this. There are children like this in our village.
Still, I thank God that my sons are decent men. Who knows if I will live ten more years or not? Only God knows. My youngest son says, “Mother! Do not fret. Do not worry too much. Mother! Your presence is a blessing to us. You are our hope. Your shadow over us is a blessing.” But I tell them that now that have wives and their own families, forget about my shadow over them. My sons tell me, “No, your shadow and presence are a blessing to us.” My boys did not have a father so they only had their mother, they received love only from their mother. Only we know a mother’s pain. For their peace of mind, I tell them that, God willing, I shall remain like a cloud that provides shade to you. I am very much pleased with my sons. They ask me about their father like how he looked, his height, and his figure. And no ease their minds, I tell them that their father looked like their uncles. They look at their father’s photos and constantly ask about his height and face. They tell me, “Mother, if our father were alive, God knows how much better our lives would have been.” For their comfort, I tell them their father was not the only one who was martyred. There are thousands of other orphaned children who grew up in similar circumstances without their fathers. I tell them that their father’s life was that long. Yes, sometimes they ask me about their father all day, twenty-four hours. They love their father so much that when my youngest son went to Iran, he took his father’s photo to make a bigger print and frame it. They always miss their father. Still, to ease their pain, I tell them that that person does not have a father and this person lost their father in an accident so that they do not suffer too much because of their father’s absence. Their hearts find comfort in that and they share their pain with me.
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