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is a victim/survivor of a/an
Additional information
Date of birth:
1971
Village/Town of birth:
Dashte Barchi دشت برچی
Province of birth:
Kabul: Kabul
Gender:
Male
Ethnicity:
Hazara
Education:
Illiterate
Date of the main incident:
1993-1996
Place of the main incident:
Kabul city
Related incident:
Incident description
Many Mujahidin factions waged a civil war throughout Afghanistan in the 1990s, killing thousands of people, including women and children. Some were forced to flee their homes and subjected to various forms of violence like rape, extortion, abuse, harassment, abduction, and arbitrary detention. Between 1993 and 1996, Nikbakht lost both of her sons, Ramazan and Abdul Hamid. She has suffered for years, and as a result of chronic trauma and grief, her memory has degraded, making it difficult for her to recall the precise year of their passing. Ramazan and Abul Hamid were not involved with the militia or the fighting factions of the Mujahidin; they were civilians employed as porters and daily wage workers.
AHRDO Archive
Alleged type of harm
Alleged type of crimes
Province:
Kabul: Kabul
Latitude:
34.5168788437339
Longitude:
69.1499999975304
Latitude: 34.5168788437339
Longitude: 69.1499999975304
When Only Photographs Remain
Narrator: Nik Bakht
Victims: Ramazan (21-years-old), Abdul Hamid (19-years-old)
Date of the incident: 1993-1996
Location of the incident: Kabul City
Nik Bakht is the symbol of a victimized generation struggling to deal with the trauma of never ending war. The dragons of war devoured her two sons within a short period of time and by now it hardly matters who was responsible for their murders. What is important is the infinite injury inflicted upon her heart. Years after her sons’ departures, she and her aging husband are living an existence between life and death. Their lives, in the aftermath of their sons’ murders, restricted only to the “sphere of pain.” This couple spent most of their years grieving their lost sons. Now they are old and the chains of poverty and helplessness have invaded them once and for all. There is no more energy left in her husband’s body to work as a porter to make ends meet. The “storm of poverty” has destroyed their lives. They can do nothing except to watch other peoples' happiness with broken hearts and sad eyes. Every time they look into the face of a young man, they remember their own young sons at the time of their early death; Ramazan was 21 years old and Abdul Hamid was 19 when they were killed.
If the war did not take the lives of Ramazan and Abdul Hamid, perhaps today everything would be different. They might even be feeling the prosperity, joy, and happiness of being grandparents. Unfortunately, for Nik Bakht and her husband to smile has become a meaningless act as they are constantly disturbed by the tragic deaths of Ramazan and Abdul Hamid. For them, every moment of their lives has turned into a terrible nightmare and their only solace are the photographs of Ramazan and Abdul Hamid, who continue to live in their memories until the day their souls will go to rest. A journey into the painful life of Nik Bakht can open our eyes to the hidden realities of war. War is not just a passing episode in the history of a country. When it occurs, it takes away the peace and wellbeing of the people forever.
The Story of Nik Bakht
My name is Nik Bakht and I am almost 60-years-old. I am originally from Bamiyan but have been living in Kabul for a long time. Our life was good before the war but then I lost two of my sons. One of them was killed in Deh Mazang and the other one in Kote-Sangi. Ramazan was killed in Kote-Sangi, though I do not exactly know how it happened… a bullet was stuck in his head and his eyes bulged.
My second son was called Abdul Hamid. He was two years younger than Ramazan. He died only a month after Ramazan’s murder. It happened during the holy month of Ramadan and Abdul Hamid had gone to the bakery to buy bread. We did not know that he had been shot. Later we learned that after he was shot, he was taken to the hospital and he was still alive when they took him. When he finally died, his body was brought to the local mosque, which is where we were informed about his death.
During the war, everyone we knew left and fled the city. We were asked to take care of peoples' homes. However, the bullets were coming from all sides and we were unable to go anywhere.
In those days, my husband worked as a porter and it was very hard for us to make ends meet. Today, it is even more challenging as my husband can no longer work. He suffers from psychological problems and keeps talking to himself. Of course, I am not very stable either. On the contrary, I feel completely shattered and abandoned.
There are only very few things left from my sons. These objects are very dear to me as they remind me of them. I am including them in the Memory Box to make my sons’ memories last. I want to keep them until the day I can finally ask the perpetrators for what reason they killed my innocent sons.
I suffer a great deal because of their deaths. If they were alive today, I would certainly have many grandchildren. In fact, shortly before his death, my elder son had just got engaged and we were preparing everything for their marriage. The wedding never happened.
Latitude: 34.5168788437339
Longitude: 69.1499999975304
Many Mujahidin factions waged a civil war throughout Afghanistan in the 1990s, killing thousands of people, including women and children. Some were forced to flee their homes and subjected to various forms of violence like rape, extortion, abuse, harassment, abduction, and arbitrary detention. Between 1993 and 1996, Nikbakht lost both of her sons, Ramazan and Abdul Hamid. She has suffered for years, and as a result of chronic trauma and grief, her memory has degraded, making it difficult for her to recall the precise year of their passing. Ramazan and Abul Hamid were not involved with the militia or the fighting factions of the Mujahidin; they were civilians employed as porters and daily wage workers.
When Only Photographs Remain
Narrator: Nik Bakht
Victims: Ramazan (21-years-old), Abdul Hamid (19-years-old)
Date of the incident: 1993-1996
Location of the incident: Kabul City
Nik Bakht is the symbol of a victimized generation struggling to deal with the trauma of never ending war. The dragons of war devoured her two sons within a short period of time and by now it hardly matters who was responsible for their murders. What is important is the infinite injury inflicted upon her heart. Years after her sons’ departures, she and her aging husband are living an existence between life and death. Their lives, in the aftermath of their sons’ murders, restricted only to the “sphere of pain.” This couple spent most of their years grieving their lost sons. Now they are old and the chains of poverty and helplessness have invaded them once and for all. There is no more energy left in her husband’s body to work as a porter to make ends meet. The “storm of poverty” has destroyed their lives. They can do nothing except to watch other peoples' happiness with broken hearts and sad eyes. Every time they look into the face of a young man, they remember their own young sons at the time of their early death; Ramazan was 21 years old and Abdul Hamid was 19 when they were killed.
If the war did not take the lives of Ramazan and Abdul Hamid, perhaps today everything would be different. They might even be feeling the prosperity, joy, and happiness of being grandparents. Unfortunately, for Nik Bakht and her husband to smile has become a meaningless act as they are constantly disturbed by the tragic deaths of Ramazan and Abdul Hamid. For them, every moment of their lives has turned into a terrible nightmare and their only solace are the photographs of Ramazan and Abdul Hamid, who continue to live in their memories until the day their souls will go to rest. A journey into the painful life of Nik Bakht can open our eyes to the hidden realities of war. War is not just a passing episode in the history of a country. When it occurs, it takes away the peace and wellbeing of the people forever.
The Story of Nik Bakht
My name is Nik Bakht and I am almost 60-years-old. I am originally from Bamiyan but have been living in Kabul for a long time. Our life was good before the war but then I lost two of my sons. One of them was killed in Deh Mazang and the other one in Kote-Sangi. Ramazan was killed in Kote-Sangi, though I do not exactly know how it happened… a bullet was stuck in his head and his eyes bulged.
My second son was called Abdul Hamid. He was two years younger than Ramazan. He died only a month after Ramazan’s murder. It happened during the holy month of Ramadan and Abdul Hamid had gone to the bakery to buy bread. We did not know that he had been shot. Later we learned that after he was shot, he was taken to the hospital and he was still alive when they took him. When he finally died, his body was brought to the local mosque, which is where we were informed about his death.
During the war, everyone we knew left and fled the city. We were asked to take care of peoples' homes. However, the bullets were coming from all sides and we were unable to go anywhere.
In those days, my husband worked as a porter and it was very hard for us to make ends meet. Today, it is even more challenging as my husband can no longer work. He suffers from psychological problems and keeps talking to himself. Of course, I am not very stable either. On the contrary, I feel completely shattered and abandoned.
There are only very few things left from my sons. These objects are very dear to me as they remind me of them. I am including them in the Memory Box to make my sons’ memories last. I want to keep them until the day I can finally ask the perpetrators for what reason they killed my innocent sons.
I suffer a great deal because of their deaths. If they were alive today, I would certainly have many grandchildren. In fact, shortly before his death, my elder son had just got engaged and we were preparing everything for their marriage. The wedding never happened.
AHRDO Archive
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