I Found Him at Dusk

Narrator: Ghulam Abbas Mobarez (Victim’s brother)

Victim: Ali Madad Mobarez (18-years-old)

Place of incident: Mirzaolang, Qul Khatoon Village, Sayyad District, Sar-e Pol Province

Time of incident: During Soviet occupation 1979 to 1989

On the day of my brother’s martyrhood, I was somewhere else. Our martyred brother Ali Madad Mobarez was harvesting wheat somewhere at the time when the Soviets attacked and killed civilians. He was harvesting on the fields and at around noon, they took a break from work when the Soviet aircrafts came. There are a lot of juniper trees in Mirzaolang. The trees are really massive and he was sitting under their shade. While the aircrafts were flying over, he had come out from under the trees to look at them. It was at this moment when they were spotted and shot at. They fled to another area while injured. They took refuge there and then started towards their home when the aircrafts saw them and fired again. He was about half an hour away from our home when he was spotted. He had fallen on the ground right there.

At first, my brother was just injured and, in that state, had fled the area. He had gotten himself close to our home when he was spotted once again and they fired at him. After that, he had fallen on the ground and we knew nothing about his situation or whereabout so that we could have checked up on him. The day went by and by sunset, we were waiting for him to come back. We kept on waiting but there was no news of him. I went out to look for him and after walking for a bit, I saw him on the ground. He was right across the fields in Mirzaolang, we farm in this area. It was at dusk when I found him. I saw him on the ground but he was still alive. I grabbed him by his arm but I could not lift him up. He was not skinny like myself; he was a lot heavier and twice my size even though I was older than him. No matter how much I tried to bring him back home, I could not carry him. Finally, he told me, “Go and bring a donkey.” I came back home. My parents asked me, "What happened? Is Ali Madad not coming?” By God, I could not tell them anything. Instead, I told them, “He will come from the back [of the house].” I took a horse and left. I did not say anything at home but went to my neighbour to inform them that my brother has been injured by the aircraft and we need to bring him back home on the horse. By the time I arrived, he had already passed away and became a martyr. Now we were forced to carry his body back home on the horse. Sadly, my parents did not know anything so when I brought [my brother’s dead body] home, they were devastated. My father collapsed. My mother also collapsed. Basically, both of them lost consciousness as my brother had left home healthy and well in the morning but at night, his lifeless body came to them. We brought him back and buried him after people gathered. After that incident, we left Mirzaolang, specifically the area we lived in which was called Qul Khatoon. We left that area because my parents could no longer bear living there. After my brother’s martyrdom, we migrated to the Mirzaolang Valley itself. In short, we experienced so many changes after the incident. It has been twenty years since but I do not remember the exact date when it happened.

After my family, many of our neighbours also migrated to the valley but this time, the valley was captured by the Taliban. This time, the Taliban killed people and looted their property. Afterwards, we came to Sar-e Pol and currently, we live in Mazar. They [the Soviets] had come with helicopters and fired. There were bullet wounds in different areas of his body. A bullet had hit his hand and another his leg. The last bullet had entered from his back and existed on the other side of his abdomen. After his funeral ceremony, when we came back on the fields, there were bullets on the ground.

Areas such as Mirzaolang, Sar-e Pol, Saidabad and Charbagh, had Mujahidin fighters whom fought with the Soviets. For this reason, the Soviets would kill anyone part of the Mujahidin or the residents of those areas. Although my brother was just a farmer, they had shot him under the suspicion that he is a Mujahid fighter or might become one.

Two or three months after Ali Madad’s death, my mother fell sick but did not recover from it and passed away. Two years after that, due to my brother’s grief, I lost my father. My sister got married. I also got married. Basically, life was very difficult. My brother had good manner. He respected our parents and me. Although I was older, he was a lot bigger than me in size and always took care of the heavy labor. He used to say, “I am strong, I can do it but you are weak, so you cannot.” There were around 400-500 families living In Mirzaolang. Around us, everyone was Sunni Muslims and we had no way out. There was only one route to Sar-e Pol. When the Taliban captured Mirzaolang, the residents there made a lot of complaints to the government. In response, the government sent four tanks in support of the people. The tanks could not hold up and as a result, fled towards Sar-e Pol.

The people lost their morale and while the Taliban had captured from Sar-e Pol to the valley, only very few people were fleeing the area. There was so much bullets being fired that people no longer cared. They would say, “If we are going to die, let us die and if we are going to live, let us live, but we do not want to be captured alive by the Taliban.” At night, everyone fled. Whether it was a woman, a child, an old man; those who wanted to escape fled the area. Of the individuals whom fled around two or three in the morning, some were able to pass through and flee but some were captured by the Taliban. The Taliban killed around fifty or sixty people.

Although I was not there and have only heard from others, they say that those captured were taken back on foot around 10 minutes away from the place of their capture, and ten people were beheaded. There were old men, children aged five and six, and even women among those ten people. Women were in such a state [of terror and panic] that they were not able to take their headscarves with them. After everything calmed down in the area, people went back to recover the dead. Around fifty to sixty people were killed.

My first wife’s father, who was around 55 to 60-years-old, was beheaded during that incident. He was a farmer but he was beheaded. I do not remember exactly, but we buried his body maybe ten to fifteen days after – after the Taliban had left the area. He could not be identified by his face, we identified him through his clothes.