AHRDO

Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

Victims: Haji Abdul Ali, son of Paiwand Ali (father), Haji Rajab Ali, son of Piwand Ali (elder uncle), Qurban Ali, son of Piwand Ali (younger uncle), Sultan Hussain (son of father's uncle) Mohammad Hasan (grandson of father's uncle)

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

I was a primary school student at that time. It was the night of Eid al-Adha; During the reign of Hafizullah Amin. I was not able to sleep that night because of the joy of Eid and wearing new clothes. Few families had TV at that time. We did not have a TV at home. But my uncle (who was living with his family with us in same house) whose young son owned a housewares store, brought a black and white TV for Eid nights. Their house was separated from our house by a partition. On Eid night, we went to my uncle's room to watch TV. That night, on the occasion of Eid, a movie called "Nawi da yaw Oshpe" (Bride for One Night), in Pashto language, was broadcast on TV.

My father, although he was not interested in watching TV or watching movies, but at the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, he sat next to us and we watched the movie together. My father knew Pashto and understood the story of the movie well. He was impressed by the scenes of kindness and chivalry in the movie and watched the movie till the end. That night, my siblings and I were eagerly waiting for the movie to end and for my father to henna our hands. After the movie, my father hennaed our hands respectively.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when our house door was knocked. At the same time as the door was knocked, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali?" "Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were also surrounding the gate. The voice shouted two or three times and wanted my father. Annoyed by their screams in the middle of the night, my father told them, “Keep your voices down. What's going on in the middle of the night, so much screaming? You know that everyone is sleeping. I am Abdul Ali. Now I will open the gate. What do you want me to do?

When they entered the house, they said: "Haji, what weapon do you have at home?" My father said: “ tow hunting guns, a big and small one." Both are hanging on the wall of the house." The officers took the guns and said: "Haji, we will take you to the police station and then we will return you early morning." They took my father that night and we waited for him to return until morning, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid and were waiting for my father's return. It was time for the lunch when the armed men came to our house again. They did not bring my father. We were very worried. This time, they took 6 other members of my family with them: Qurban Ali (my uncle), Sultan Hussain son of my father's uncle, Mohammad Hasan the grandson of my father's uncle, Mohammad Nabi son of my uncle, Ghulam Abbas and Ali Ahmad, grandsons of my uncle.

Fear and worry filled the atmosphere of the house. In the evening of the same day, Haji Rajab Ali, my elder uncle, who was older than my father, came to our house and comforted us and said: "Don't worry, by God's hope, they will all come back." Don't worry as long as I am there." He said to my mother: "I will come tomorrow first thing in the morning, I will bring whatever food and other basic necessities you lack at home." As if he had sensed that my father would not return soon. But the next day, my elder uncle did not come. He was also taken from his house in Chindawol that night.

The night and days of Eid passed and we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Carmel, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers and sisters and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children with a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come. In the same way, my elder uncle had four children, a boy and a girl, the same age as us. My youngest uncle, who was taken away, still had no children.

Our mothers waited that night and bitter days and even long years for their husbands and shed tears and prayed for their return until they were old and their hair turned white. This wait lasted 35 years. When the Polygon victim list was released, we found the names of five of our family members on it. The wait is over and our hope collapsed; All the family members were just crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victim in Pule cherkhi. When I was walking on the soil of Polygon, I was busy with the question of what my father and uncles said to each other in those heavy moments before death and what were their last words to each other?

After we knew that what has happened to my father and uncles, we honored them, their memories and other victims by organizing a program with a title written in bold: "Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten."

Confidential

Let's never go back to our past

Narrator: Abdul Raziq Rezaei

Victims: Abdullah and Abdul Karim

Time of the incident: 2001

The place of the incident: Dahan kanak village, Yakawlang district, Bamyan province

The name of the victims: Abdullah my father, aged 45-47, I don't remember the exact age of my father and my uncle Abdul Karim, he was 30-35 years old. They lived in Dahan kanak village, Yakawlang district. They were farmers.

My father was learned something from mullahs at home, he could only read the Quran. Abul Kakrim had attended "Dehsur" high school until the eighth grade. Due to these riots, these wars, he had left school. Both of them were married. My father had three sons, whose eldest son is me, his second son is named Samad, and his third son is named Nader. My father had three daughters, whose eldest daughter is named Hanifa, his second daughter is Sima, and his third is Soghara. My uncle Kakaim had four sons and daughters, His eldest son is Reza, his second son is Enayat, his eldest daughter is Laiqa, and his second daughter is Sabra. All were peasants/farmers and all lived in Dehne kanak.

It was 2001, that the Taliban came and took Yakavalang, the war ended... Khalili's forces went to Chaman. There they burned the villages and captured my father and another person named Ibrahim, and took them to the battle in Chahar Deh. Taliban was defeated there and came to Dahan kanak again, brought my father and uncle back to the village, tight them back to back under the road and fired on both/killed them.

When Taliban arrested my father, we fled to Punjab having no knews about my father. People told me that your father was killed, although it was dangerous to come to the area, we, however came and took the corpse of three martyrs with a small number of friends. We could not bury them in our ancestral cemetery, we took him to Sare kanak( a nearby village) graveyard.

during the migration period, all the people were vigilant to what is happening in Yakawlang, the houses and shops were burnt down, many people were killed.

My father's body remained under the sun shine [where he was killed] for a week, no one could come and bury him. When Taliban attacked Yakawlang, my father, told me( I am his elder son) take the family members to Panjab district, I would come after you, he stayed because of our livestock up there in Qeshlaq(pasture land, where people take their cattle/livestock ). We could only save our lives, not the live stocks. Unfortunately we have lost our father and every other thing we had in the village.

According to my cousin, four days after we( family ) left our village, my father was killed. As said, me, my younger brother Samad and my cousin Mohammd Rahim came from Punjab to Sarma Qol during the night. At night, we took five more people from Sarma Qol, we came and transferred the bodies at night in Sare kanak. The people of Sarkanak cooperated with – Thanks them, may God protect them – with them, we buried the corps.

We brought the family back when the Taliban attacked the American twin towers, it was September 11th, it was the beginning of the cold season. It had snowed once or twice. We came back home, but nothing remained, our houses were burnt, with empty hands, we started to rebuilt our houses.

Everyone had psychological problem. We had no one, it's very difficult to talk about it. We can't tell you how it went. It was very difficult for the people to live. I had lost a father and an uncle and our economic situation was ruined, our cattle and property were gone. We didn't have money and our situation was very bad, I personally took care of two families with many problems – I had to leave school - it is my responsibility to take care of the two families until today.

Today, my uncle family is living separately, we divided our land, after my uncle, I separated his land, by the grace of God, our agriculture product is good, not bad, but I ended up having a lot of trouble because at that time, people did not trust anyone. Now it has been changed, if neede people give us a loan, at that time no one gave a single rupee to anyone else. Why could not borrow some money? People used to say that the situation in Afghanistan is bad, I may not be able to pay back.

We had this difficult situation. I couldn't bear not to say it, it means that it is very difficult for someone to say it; Yes, those who had a better economy may have lived better, but I myself, who had two families on my shoulders and was empty-handed, someone who didn't have a single rupee, this is how I lived my life.

The little money that we had was in my father's pocket, which were burnt, they had holes drilled in it. It was completely destroyed. in general, it was out of use. My mother endured this situation until today, and today, thanks to the grace of God, our situation is good, and we suffered a lot that day. No one could take care of his family, but I supervised two families...

I was a child who did not understand anything about what to do. I went through that difficult situation alone. We struggled with a difficult life that no one can imagine, but some people are good, maybe they can. [Before this incident] I had no responsibility, but once two families were shouldered by one person without a single rupee in his pocket, imagine for yourself what the situation was like. You asked me, and told you, I could not control myself not to say, I beg your pardon.

Where did I find out about your uncle? When my father was martyred, I didn't know about my uncle, people didn't tell me anything. I buried my father, we couldn't be bothered there again, so we went to Panjab and again, my friends told me that you should come once, I had a bad feeling, because my uncle family was here in Panjab. As soon as he sent the message that "come once" I fell from the sky to the ground, I said what happened that he asked me again.

I came to Yekavlang again, I went to "Sar Maqol" village, the only place I could go. People had fled to Sar Maqol. I went there again, I asked my friends about the situation, and they said that the situation is good [but] let's go together with you, they say that your uncle has been captured. Well, we came, we gathered our friends and decided to find some elderly men and meet the Taliban who captured my uncle. When we came here, one of the friends said that the Taliban had captured your uncle, they took him to your village, they killed your uncle on a pass named “Larasi go and take your martyr from there. The people of Sangardost(one of the local Taliban) gave us a soldier to guide us there, showed us that my uncle corpse had dried up, we took it to Dahan kanak and buried him there. Ah, I wish they would had killed him [only], they have cut off his hand, cut off from here (showing his elbow), and cut off his leg from the knee. We took him and buried him in our village.

By God, at that time, we had no idea what we were doing because we were children, we had no idea what the Taliban meant, what they were doing, we had no idea, they just said that the Taliban had come and killed people. this much. Because we were children, we didn't feel, we didn't understand what the Taliban means? We thought that Talib means "student" not more than that, right? But when they came and set fire to the houses, killed the people, we thought that a human had not come, a savage had come, what were you doing to the innocent people, with the houses, No one has anything to do with the housed, but they destroyed and burned every single houses.

Yes, my mother is alive. Thanks God, my mother, it was my mother who brought us to this stage, otherwise we would have been a bunch of small kids & children. My uncle’s children were also small. My mother gave me an arm and said don't lose yourself, be strong, work hard. My mother supported us and kept telling us, be strong. The reality is that we worked hard, suffered a lot, and Thanks God we are seeing the results today.

I put myself in the place of my father, I left school, I sacrificed my wish and wants for my brothers and my uncles children. I supported my brothers and my uncles’ children to go to school. Thanks God, they are now doing well with their education and lives.

My father, was a normal calm person, he never fought anybody in the village or with family members. He had a sound personality as he never shouted on me ( as I remember) as his younger son, never used bad word against me, but he was a religious person. He used to awake us up to pray our prayers early in the morning and advised us to take fast.

I had no responsibility, didn’t think about life’s ups and downs, everything was on his shoulders, I didn't know where he would earn the livelihood and what he would give us, we would eat and wear only etc. My uncle was young, at that time our lands were not divided, only his house was separated, and he worked as a farmer with my father. Local Taliban were good people, some were Hazaras and Tajiks, but those who came out of Yakawlang, those Talibs do not want Islam at all, they were Wahhabis. These were outsider’s men.

Nothing noticeable left from my father to put them in the "Afghanistan Memory and Dialogue Center". My father had a Qoran and a watch. I have his watch with me now in my pocket and tape recorder named 530, and old model 60/70 years old.

These are the only things left from my father. Nothing left from my uncle but a picture. The photo is a very old one, we enlarged it and put it on the wall, so he should not be forgotten and remain as part of our memory. In reality, we have very bad memories, we never return to our past, we had hard time in the pasts that I cried, we really have a very bitter past, not only for me, but for all the victims, for all the people of Yakavalang, Bamyan and the central regions. We will never return to our past.

We are really happy to have something lasting for us in the museum. I'm happy and, you are welcome, you are all the light of our eyes who think about us and remember us and listen to our words/voices and take them to higher levels. Thank you.

The death of my young brother broke my back

Abdul Qadir Jamshidi is a man with a gray beard, whose forehead wrinkles show more than ever when he talks. He is the first narrator of the incident and he narrates what he saw carefully and in detail. He uses his hands, face, and body a lot while speaking, making his speech beautiful and spectacular. Therefore, there is no blind spot in his speech and he can very easily tell what he has seen. His catchphrase is "Insha'Allah" which is used in cases where it is thought that the sentence is wrong, but it is not and the sentence has its own meaning if it is considered as a catchword.

Narrator: Abdul Qadir Jamshidi (brother)

Victim: Mohammad Hussain Jamshidi (18 years old)

Time of the incident: January 21, 2018

The place of the incident: Faizabad area, Haftwalaf village, Rabat Sangi, Herat

Type of incident: Roadside mine explosion

I am from Herat, Rabat Sangi district, Yaka Dokan village. My name is Abdul Qadir. I am 29 years old. I am busy with my life and in our region most people's occupation is agriculture. Like cultivating wheat and barley. My own job, I transport passengers , commuting, taking passengers and I do such things. I come from Herat to Rabat Sangi, which is my area/village, in the morning and return in the evening. This is my main job.

Martyr? We are six brothers, our younger brother is a martyr. I am not a big brother either, I am the fifth brother, the sixth is older than us, but the martyr was our younger brother, whose name is Hussain. To support life and find a morsel of bread, Hussain wanted to go Iran, but did not cross the border of Nimroz to Iran. Recently, a new way has been opened, from Islam Qala itself, which they say is on our side/Qarabagh, and from there people are taken to Iran with a cost of 5000-10000 Afn/person.

Four of our children, left the village together for Iran. They rode a white care(a white Sarachah) from Rabat Sangi. From our village, I brought them to Rabat Sangi by my own car/Sarache, and I found a care for them and myself returned home and 20 minutes after their departure we received the news of the martyrdom.

He took them on board, I said goodbye to them, they left; I returned home. Before I got home, I got a call. I did not get out of the car yet, from Saracheh - they said, the car of these children has been hit by a mine. I said where? They said in "Faizabad". There I did not call anyone else but my two brothers, we didn't call anyone because of the panic and fear we had.

We only meant that, God forbid, it's a landmine, if it has exploded, the car might be needed there, we should arrive sooner, God forbid, if one or two of them are wounded, they don't lose blood, and we can help them. We said it will be too late to call others in the village. We moved to Faizabad, from Faizabad to "Alaf", from Alaf down in the valley. There is a pass in the middle of Faizabad and Alaf. Passing the pass, we noticed the car, when reached it, there were ten people inside the Sarache car.

Among ten people in the care, there was a child, not more than ten years old. The child home was in Herat. He went to the border area ( which is a residential area) to see his relatives. Even that ten-year-old child was inside this car. One of these ten people survived. Others, nine others, I even collected the pieces of their body myself.

People were afraid that, God forbid, we could go around them, there would be mines, but we didn't know. I was thinking of getting there early to see how many of these are still alive. Someone needs help getting these to the car or to the clinic or to the city, hospital. [I was saying to myself and addressing the driver:] What are you crazy about? You don't have the right to go there, even the government people didn't bother themselves to go there.

They are much closer than us. Their distance [from the accident site] was ten minutes; It took us an hour to get there. They had arrived earlier than us. The gov. people fear was that, God forbid, there are mines around or the opponents, if we go closer, they may attack us. We, did not understand this, we reached the care; When we arrived, there was nothing from the car. The mine exploded in the middle of the car. There was nothing from the seat, the gate, not even the steering wheel. A bit of the car's pose and a bit of the trunk left from the Saracha/car. Others parts of car were torn to shreds, nothing was found in that car.

I looked around1, there were parts of body everywhere, I thought they cannot be collected like this, all the cars had a tarpaulin to sit on in the Sarache stall. I took it and collected these bones one by one and brought them together. Whenever a mine exploded, parts of body were thrown about one hundred to two hundred meters away. I found bodies from the waist above while from the waist down dose not existed. Even one of our son-in-laws, Morteza’s father, Khair Mohammad, may God have mercy on him, half of his face and his head exist (half of the forehead, from the between of the eyebrow, the right side of head),

I didn't recognize him until I turned him around. When I turned his face away, I saw his head and brain... that this Muslim is Khair Muhammad, may God forgive him. All these nine people who had died, I collected all of them one by one. There was no car, but a flying couch= minivan. I lifted the chairs and brought them to Rabat Sanghi clinic. I said that their relatives should not go the incident site. The situation is never safe, lest there be another misfortune.

I said, since we already came in the site, let's take all of these to the clinic. It is both the base of the government and under the control of the government. Their relative, would take corps from the clinic. That's what we took them and came to Rabat Sangi again, two to three thousand people gathered near the corpse of our people. It was very terrible. My prayer is that, God! No one should die young, it's hard.

Oh, not to forget, there has been a second car, following the care exploded. There were all women and children in the second car. There has been a distance between the first and second one. When the first car hit by mine, the second car stopes and calls the relatives about the incident. A person by the name of Ghulam Nabi called me, so I went to the incident site.

Twenty minutes by car, two hours on foot. Faizabad is in the hands of the government. The same area where the incident happened is mostly in the hands of the government, Taliban traffic is very low. Be informed, they said that the TAPI project will be passed from there, and at that time it was said that the government was also looking to have that area in its hands, and on the other hand, Taleb was also thinking that it had that area in its hands. Let the TAPI project not be launched, God willing, the Talib who is in that area will be guided by Iran, who will lead them, and even Iran support them financially.

For this reason, they start a war, a fight, and mines there, so that TAPI project doesn’t start. These young people were killed by these Muslims. The government says we don't know, the Taliban also says we don't know, no one has given us an answer yet. We wandered and did not understand. We have no more prayers, God, we have entrusted everything to you. We have no strength and no force anymore. Neither Taliban nor the government took responsibility at the end.

I think 100% that if they were government staff, Talib was claiming that we did this to get himself to the media, and take reward for it; Because they were not government men, and they were innocents, did not take the responsibility. Four of these corpses were ours, which I took to Yaka Dokan with my car among my people. There were nine corpses, five others were from Herat city, from the "Babahaji" neighborhood,

It has had a lot of effects on our family, for example, we have a father who was paralyzed due to grief. Two years have passed from the incident, my father can’t survive without medicine and without a doctor, there is no other way. Our mother is also crazy and nervous, even this morning the same dress I brought is coat, a full-blooded coat, that Mullah did not allow us to be buried with the body itself. A piece of his clothe remained clean as it was stained with dirt but there was no blood, my mother took it and hit it on her face and head for an hour, her nerves were broken, we haven't seen a good day in our house since the day he left.

There were six of us, now there are five of us. After that incident, people's uneasiness has led us to judge whether we have become addicted to drugs or what other calamity has befallen us. The young men who used to be stout, now they have gained strength, they don't even weigh 10 kilos. Believe me, dying young is very difficult, may God not show this calamity to anyone, otherwise those who have young people died will suffer the most. ground from the fourth heaven, and our strength is over, and the only thing I can say is that, God, I am satisfied with your satisfaction

My brother had very good manners, he always treated his elder with respect, if you advise him for hours, he would listen all with full attention. Believe me, I had scolded my brother many times, but he always just laughed in response and said nothing to me out of respect. When we review his memories and history now, I say to myself that he was not meant to stay.

I am sure that the example of this young man is no longer in our village. The four people who were martyred were all from the same village and all of them were of the same age and only among these four people Khair Mohammad was married and the others were single. Khair Mohammad had three daughters. Two daughters, one son. When he passed away, his wife was pregnant. It's been eight months since he was born, but he hasn't seen his father's face, and his eldest son is in charge, and until now, our family is taking care of them. . My message is that until we fraternize with each other, the stranger will not. A foreign country never wants us to live together as brothers. My point is that until we unite in the name of Afghanistan, the war of fratricide and dying young will not end. My prayer is that God, if my prayer is accepted, then no one will see the death of his/her young family members, our youth are our future.

For Hossein himself, I have this message that no matter how sad we are, we love you and remember you as long as we are alive. You were a good brother and good son to your parents.

No statemetn

مردگیش درگ نداره راوی: خدیجه عزیزی (دختر کاکا) قربانی: حسن زمان حادثه: ۱۳۷۷ مکان حادثه: مزار شریف [نامم] جدیجه [و تخلصم] عزیزی [است] آری. [شهید نامش] حسن [است]. پسر کاکایم می‌شد و ایورم. یگان ۲۵ ساله بود که شهید شد. در خود یکاولنگ، در قریه زارین متولد شده بود. [حسن] غریب کار بود دهقانی نمی‌کرد، گاهی وقت دهقانی هم می‌کرد، مقصد کار می‌کرد در شهر ملک‌ها کار می‌کرد. گاهی به مزار می‌رفت گاهی به کابل، بامیان [برای کار کردن می‌رفت]. [محل شهادتش] مزار [شریف است]. حسن وقتی که به شهادت رسید همرایش یک بچه خاله‌اش و یک بچه عمه من یک بچه تغه/طغه من هم بود همه‌اش در مزار غرق شدند. 1 [در حمله طالبان به مزارشریف] شهید شد. کارگری، آری در مزار برای کارگری رفته بود. [حادثه] سرِبهار بود، آری سربهار. [همان سال ۱۳۷۷] البته، من آنقدرش را نمی‌فهمم. نه، درس نخوانده بود فقط یک سیاهی خوان بود، درس نخوانده بود. آری [خانه‌اش در] سرآسیاب بود. نه، نه قبرش سرگُم رفت ما ندیدیم. (نامفهوم) ما دیدیم که شهید شد، خیلی کسان [دیگر هم شهید شد] همان بچه خاله‌شی همین بچه عمه من همین‌ها هیچ مردگی‌اش درک ندارد. خیلی دیر بعد قوم‌ها جمع شد گفت ما به چشم خود دیدیم کشته شد. آری گفتند طالب‌ها کشته بچُوم که چه رقم کشته. خبر داشتیم یک عکس سیاه و سفید از کابل روان کرده بود، همینطور یگان نشانی روان می‌کرد احوالش را یگان دکاندار می‌آورد، گاهی خودش می‌آمد. تیرماه [خبر شدیم] و پدر و مادرش را شنواندیم. مادرش سهو شد از آن پس خیلی دیوانگی می‌کرد، گپ‌های ایله کاله می‌گفت بیچاره. آری از خاطر همان [مرگ نوجوانش] آب یخ می‌خورد دیگر چیزی خورده نمی‌توانست. بیخی شب در خانه نمی‌آمد روز تا بیگاه و شب تا صبح را می‌گشت و می‌گفت دلم سرخ می‌آید؛ همینطور می‌گشت بیچاره. پدرش خوب بود، غنیمت بود به اندازهٔ مادرش کُوتو نمی‌کرد. [وقتی پدر و مادرش را خبر کردند بعد از آن آنها هیچ سرقبرش نرفتند چون] او گم شد، هیچ قبر نداشت. خیلی آدم خوبی بود، کارگر بود، زحمتکش بود، یگان کَرَد می‌آورد، ما خیلی... آنطور که... گاه چیز نبود یک روغن نباتی ایلفی بود در همان دوره، برنج پرمل بود، کار که می‌کرد از آنها به ما می‌آورد، خوب بود، خیلی بچه قاش‌واز بود. خانه نمی‌نشست. آنجا کار کردن می‌رفت، گاهی غزنی می‌رفت، گاهی کابل گاهی بامیان. آری مجرد بود، خانه دار نبود. دایم او را ازبک می‌گفت، سید و هزاره به نام اوزبک می‌شناخت، قد بنلد داشت و خوبشی بود. او دایم کوله پکول سر می‌کرد. پَک گُم شد. یکدانه قاشق داشت، قاشق قدیمی ارمنه که از او بود. یک ساعتش تا بعدها بود [اما] خراب، اگر بچه‌ها بیرون نینداخته باشند. [پدرش] آری دو سال شده فوت کرده، مادرش یک دو سال پیش [از پدرش فوت کرد] یعنی چهار سال می‌شود. آری [مادرش تا آخر عمر] یادش را می‌کرد. مادرش از همان خاطر مریض شد، پای درد شد، کم فکر شد، خیلی کم فکر شد. آری [وقتی زنده بود با پدرش خرج خانه را فراهم می‌کردند]. پدرش که ماند هم در گردن او(شوهر خدیجه عزیزی) بود و مادرش هم. زیاد نفر که قتل شد هیچ کس هم جستجو نتوانست که پیدا شود، از هیچ کس پیدا نشد. نه، نه هیچ چیزی نگفت [روزی که طرف مزار می‌رفت] او که می‌رفت از دشت می‌رفت و هیچ در قصه‌اش هم نبود که خبر کنم یا نکنم هیچ در غمش نبود، می‌رفت همانطور. آری [نترس بود] هیچ در غمش نبود. ما آنجا را ندیدیم، می‌گفتیم کجایه؟ [می‌گفتند] کابله! کابل را ندیدیم، مزار را همین حالا هم ندیده‌ام، کابل را هم آنطور ندیدیم یک بار همانطور گذری رفتیم. می‌رفت همانجا، ما دیگه سیاسریم ندیدیم که کجا می‌رود یا نمی‌رود. باز می‌آمد، می‌رفت، قدیم یک خط می‌آمد. تلفن نبود، نه برق بود نه تلفن بود هیچ چیز هم نبود. در اول [حکومت] کرزی جنراتور پیدا شد که برق آمد. خانه که می‌آمد هیچ قصه نمی‌کرد، هیچ چیز نمی‌گفت.

Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

Victims: Haji Abdul Ali, son of Paiwand Ali (father), Haji Rajab Ali, son of Piwand Ali (elder uncle), Qurban Ali, son of Piwand Ali (younger uncle), Sultan Hussain (son of father's uncle) Mohammad Hasan (grandson of father's uncle)

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

I was a primary school student at that time. It was the night of Eid al-Adha; During the reign of Hafizullah Amin. I was not able to sleep that night because of the joy of Eid and wearing new clothes. Few families had TV at that time. We did not have a TV at home. But my uncle (who was living with his family with us in same house) whose young son owned a housewares store, brought a black and white TV for Eid nights. Their house was separated from our house by a partition. On Eid night, we went to my uncle's room to watch TV. That night, on the occasion of Eid, a movie called "Nawi da yaw Oshpe" (Bride for One Night), in Pashto language, was broadcast on TV.

My father, although he was not interested in watching TV or watching movies, but at the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, he sat next to us and we watched the movie together. My father knew Pashto and understood the story of the movie well. He was impressed by the scenes of kindness and chivalry in the movie and watched the movie till the end. That night, my siblings and I were eagerly waiting for the movie to end and for my father to henna our hands. After the movie, my father hennaed our hands respectively.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when our house door was knocked. At the same time as the door was knocked, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali?" "Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were also surrounding the gate. The voice shouted two or three times and wanted my father. Annoyed by their screams in the middle of the night, my father told them, “Keep your voices down. What's going on in the middle of the night, so much screaming? You know that everyone is sleeping. I am Abdul Ali. Now I will open the gate. What do you want me to do?

When they entered the house, they said: "Haji, what weapon do you have at home?" My father said: “ tow hunting guns, a big and small one." Both are hanging on the wall of the house." The officers took the guns and said: "Haji, we will take you to the police station and then we will return you early morning." They took my father that night and we waited for him to return until morning, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid and were waiting for my father's return. It was time for the lunch when the armed men came to our house again. They did not bring my father. We were very worried. This time, they took 6 other members of my family with them: Qurban Ali (my uncle), Sultan Hussain son of my father's uncle, Mohammad Hasan the grandson of my father's uncle, Mohammad Nabi son of my uncle, Ghulam Abbas and Ali Ahmad, grandsons of my uncle.

Fear and worry filled the atmosphere of the house. In the evening of the same day, Haji Rajab Ali, my elder uncle, who was older than my father, came to our house and comforted us and said: "Don't worry, by God's hope, they will all come back." Don't worry as long as I am there." He said to my mother: "I will come tomorrow first thing in the morning, I will bring whatever food and other basic necessities you lack at home." As if he had sensed that my father would not return soon. But the next day, my elder uncle did not come. He was also taken from his house in Chindawol that night.

The night and days of Eid passed and we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Carmel, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers and sisters and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children with a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come. In the same way, my elder uncle had four children, a boy and a girl, the same age as us. My youngest uncle, who was taken away, still had no children.

Our mothers waited that night and bitter days and even long years for their husbands and shed tears and prayed for their return until they were old and their hair turned white. This wait lasted 35 years. When the Polygon victim list was released, we found the names of five of our family members on it. The wait is over and our hope collapsed; All the family members were just crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victim in Pule cherkhi. When I was walking on the soil of Polygon, I was busy with the question of what my father and uncles said to each other in those heavy moments before death and what were their last words to each other?

After we knew that what has happened to my father and uncles, we honored them, their memories and other victims by organizing a program with a title written in bold: "Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten."

Was a de-miner

Narrator: Ahmad (nephew)

Victim: Nabi

Time of the incident: 2011

Place of the incident: Kohsan district, Herat province

My name is Ahmed. I am twenty years old. I live in Kamaneh, Kohsan district, called Kohsan district. I myself work at custom at the port of Islam Qala. I would get 100-200 per day.

He was my uncle (victim), he was 31 years old. He was martyred in 2014. He was a de-miner, He left at four o'clock in the morning and came back at two o'clock in the afternoon. Last time, it was four o'clock in the morning when he left house. While going to the demining site, he and his colleagues were ambushed by the Taliban. It was seven o'clock, they fired on them, he and his 5 colleagues were killed there. They took others alive. They might be killed later.

He was an employee of De-mining agency. They were going to explore the land. They would find mines and mark them, they would report to the Engineer about the spots where mine exist, then the team was going to the site and explode the mine.

We got the news at eight and nine o'clock and went there. The drivers said that there was a war over the mine cleaners. We saw five or six people lying there. Mr. Behrouz's brother was also with them. He had been shot in his stomach, right here, God forgive him.

We put the body in the back of the car, brought it back to the house. I went there, two of our uncles also came. They live in Kamanah, their families live there [in Kamanah]. My uncle’s economic condition is good, but not that good. He has two children, one is five years and the other one is two years old.

The demining agency had given food and non-food commodities to my uncle’s family. They don’t have other thing. His wife is young( about 20 years old) and has two children. She lives with her two children. One of his children is five years old and one is two years old. My uncle was illiterate. He did not go to school.

We went to the field ourselves and picked him. Several others had been killed there. The corps were in different places. On in the car, one next to the car etc. among them, my uncle was shot dead and many didn’t even hurt. We went there and took him from the back of the car. We thought he was alive. God forgive him. He was martyred. We put him in the back of our car and brought him to his house, that's it.

It was also the holy month of Ramadan. Taliban have been after the director of demining agency, they took him away. Taliban asked him to pay, but he didn't give them any money, then five or six people were killed like this. These were earning a living through this job, he used to get 15,000 per month.

There is nothing else to say, I don’t have any message... Look, our business is ruined, there is no work in Afghanistan, nothing, I say that someone should help us with something.

I will do whatever I can for my uncle. My uncle served us a lot. I will do anything to him, to his children, to his family. My uncle was very kind to us. He used to advise us to do good thing, respect the elders and children and get education. I was saying that uncle I can’t go to school, I have to work because my father was killed in the way to Iran.

My father used to go to Iran to work . He was killed on the way to Iran. I was small, I don't remember [how he was killed], our family knows about it. They say he was killed inside Iran. Iranian soldiers killed him. He had gone illegally and had nothing, no travel document.

Now, thank God, it's fine. We work, my mother is with us, yes, we are two brothers, I am her elder son and I have a younger brother. My mother was 20-22 years old when my father was killed. Yes, she has never married again. She stayed with us. We go to work and my mother is at home taking care of things at home. Thank God, the rest is fine with us. I have this intention that God will help me to serve her in my life.

No statement

Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

Victims: Haji Abdul Ali, son of Paiwand Ali (father), Haji Rajab Ali, son of Piwand Ali (elder uncle), Qurban Ali, son of Piwand Ali (younger uncle), Sultan Hussain (son of father's uncle) Mohammad Hasan (grandson of father's uncle)

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

I was a primary school student at that time. It was the night of Eid al-Adha; During the reign of Hafizullah Amin. I was not able to sleep that night because of the joy of Eid and wearing new clothes. Few families had TV at that time. We did not have a TV at home. But my uncle (who was living with his family with us in same house) whose young son owned a housewares store, brought a black and white TV for Eid nights. Their house was separated from our house by a partition. On Eid night, we went to my uncle's room to watch TV. That night, on the occasion of Eid, a movie called "Nawi da yaw Oshpe" (Bride for One Night), in Pashto language, was broadcast on TV.

My father, although he was not interested in watching TV or watching movies, but at the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, he sat next to us and we watched the movie together. My father knew Pashto and understood the story of the movie well. He was impressed by the scenes of kindness and chivalry in the movie and watched the movie till the end. That night, my siblings and I were eagerly waiting for the movie to end and for my father to henna our hands. After the movie, my father hennaed our hands respectively.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when our house door was knocked. At the same time as the door was knocked, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali?" "Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were also surrounding the gate. The voice shouted two or three times and wanted my father. Annoyed by their screams in the middle of the night, my father told them, “Keep your voices down. What's going on in the middle of the night, so much screaming? You know that everyone is sleeping. I am Abdul Ali. Now I will open the gate. What do you want me to do?

When they entered the house, they said: "Haji, what weapon do you have at home?" My father said: “ tow hunting guns, a big and small one." Both are hanging on the wall of the house." The officers took the guns and said: "Haji, we will take you to the police station and then we will return you early morning." They took my father that night and we waited for him to return until morning, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid and were waiting for my father's return. It was time for the lunch when the armed men came to our house again. They did not bring my father. We were very worried. This time, they took 6 other members of my family with them: Qurban Ali (my uncle), Sultan Hussain son of my father's uncle, Mohammad Hasan the grandson of my father's uncle, Mohammad Nabi son of my uncle, Ghulam Abbas and Ali Ahmad, grandsons of my uncle.

Fear and worry filled the atmosphere of the house. In the evening of the same day, Haji Rajab Ali, my elder uncle, who was older than my father, came to our house and comforted us and said: "Don't worry, by God's hope, they will all come back." Don't worry as long as I am there." He said to my mother: "I will come tomorrow first thing in the morning, I will bring whatever food and other basic necessities you lack at home." As if he had sensed that my father would not return soon. But the next day, my elder uncle did not come. He was also taken from his house in Chindawol that night.

The night and days of Eid passed and we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Carmel, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers and sisters and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children with a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come. In the same way, my elder uncle had four children, a boy and a girl, the same age as us. My youngest uncle, who was taken away, still had no children.

Our mothers waited that night and bitter days and even long years for their husbands and shed tears and prayed for their return until they were old and their hair turned white. This wait lasted 35 years. When the Polygon victim list was released, we found the names of five of our family members on it. The wait is over and our hope collapsed; All the family members were just crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victim in Pule cherkhi. When I was walking on the soil of Polygon, I was busy with the question of what my father and uncles said to each other in those heavy moments before death and what were their last words to each other?

After we knew that what has happened to my father and uncles, we honored them, their memories and other victims by organizing a program with a title written in bold: "Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten."

No statement

Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

Victims: Haji Abdul Ali, son of Paiwand Ali (father), Haji Rajab Ali, son of Piwand Ali (elder uncle), Qurban Ali, son of Piwand Ali (younger uncle), Sultan Hussain (son of father's uncle) Mohammad Hasan (grandson of father's uncle)

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

I was a primary school student at that time. It was the night of Eid al-Adha; During the reign of Hafizullah Amin. I was not able to sleep that night because of the joy of Eid and wearing new clothes. Few families had TV at that time. We did not have a TV at home. But my uncle (who was living with his family with us in same house) whose young son owned a housewares store, brought a black and white TV for Eid nights. Their house was separated from our house by a partition. On Eid night, we went to my uncle's room to watch TV. That night, on the occasion of Eid, a movie called "Nawi da yaw Oshpe" (Bride for One Night), in Pashto language, was broadcast on TV.

My father, although he was not interested in watching TV or watching movies, but at the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, he sat next to us and we watched the movie together. My father knew Pashto and understood the story of the movie well. He was impressed by the scenes of kindness and chivalry in the movie and watched the movie till the end. That night, my siblings and I were eagerly waiting for the movie to end and for my father to henna our hands. After the movie, my father hennaed our hands respectively.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when our house door was knocked. At the same time as the door was knocked, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali?" "Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were also surrounding the gate. The voice shouted two or three times and wanted my father. Annoyed by their screams in the middle of the night, my father told them, “Keep your voices down. What's going on in the middle of the night, so much screaming? You know that everyone is sleeping. I am Abdul Ali. Now I will open the gate. What do you want me to do?

When they entered the house, they said: "Haji, what weapon do you have at home?" My father said: “ tow hunting guns, a big and small one." Both are hanging on the wall of the house." The officers took the guns and said: "Haji, we will take you to the police station and then we will return you early morning." They took my father that night and we waited for him to return until morning, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid and were waiting for my father's return. It was time for the lunch when the armed men came to our house again. They did not bring my father. We were very worried. This time, they took 6 other members of my family with them: Qurban Ali (my uncle), Sultan Hussain son of my father's uncle, Mohammad Hasan the grandson of my father's uncle, Mohammad Nabi son of my uncle, Ghulam Abbas and Ali Ahmad, grandsons of my uncle.

Fear and worry filled the atmosphere of the house. In the evening of the same day, Haji Rajab Ali, my elder uncle, who was older than my father, came to our house and comforted us and said: "Don't worry, by God's hope, they will all come back." Don't worry as long as I am there." He said to my mother: "I will come tomorrow first thing in the morning, I will bring whatever food and other basic necessities you lack at home." As if he had sensed that my father would not return soon. But the next day, my elder uncle did not come. He was also taken from his house in Chindawol that night.

The night and days of Eid passed and we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Carmel, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers and sisters and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children with a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come. In the same way, my elder uncle had four children, a boy and a girl, the same age as us. My youngest uncle, who was taken away, still had no children.

Our mothers waited that night and bitter days and even long years for their husbands and shed tears and prayed for their return until they were old and their hair turned white. This wait lasted 35 years. When the Polygon victim list was released, we found the names of five of our family members on it. The wait is over and our hope collapsed; All the family members were just crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victim in Pule cherkhi. When I was walking on the soil of Polygon, I was busy with the question of what my father and uncles said to each other in those heavy moments before death and what were their last words to each other?

After we knew that what has happened to my father and uncles, we honored them, their memories and other victims by organizing a program with a title written in bold: "Even if a hundred years pass, you will not be forgotten."

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