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وقتی از او یاد می‌کنند، روز روشن سرم تاریک می‌شود

راوی: محمدگل بلوچ (برادر قربانی)

قربانی: غلام‌رضا

زمان حادثه: ماه قوس سال ۱۳۹۷

مکان حادثه: در مسیر هلمند، منطقه گرشک، ولسوالی کجران ولایت دایکندی

من محمدگل از قوم بلوچ هستم. جای اصلی ما ولسوالی کجران ولایت دایکندی [است] و از قریه قلای لَش [هستم.] اسم شهید ما غلام‌‌رضا [است] و برادرم [می‌شود.] سالش؟ در تذکره‌اش، در همین وقتی که شهید شدند فقط به همین برج پنجم [بود] که این ششم برج است. شش ماه می‌شود که شهید شده‌اند. در ذهن مه نیست که در تذکریش چنده که از پیش خود من بگویم که ۴۵ ساله یه، در ذهن من نیه. تذکره‌اش همرایم هست. این‌ها که از اینجا می‌رفت، شش نفر زیر موتر شدند. از همان ولسوالی کجران بودند، جنگ بود و آمدیم ولایت هرات. نزدیک هفت هشت سال می‌شود. باز این‌ها از همین قوما-این‌طوری نیست که فامیلی نزدیک باشد- از همان قوم بلوچ بودند، سه نفر از همین قریه به همراه سه تای دیگه از مردم قندهار بود، همراه شده بود می‌رفت طرف منطقه، بالای زمین کشاورزی خود که ببیند چه هست. این‌ها به منطقه کجران می‌رفت، بلی آه. باز همین بود که در منطقه «خرخورده» این‌ها را مین بالا می‌کند. دیگه همین سه تای ما که مین بالا کرد، وقتی که ما خبر شدیم، خودم رفتم دیگه قوما هم آمده بود. دیگه در تشییع جنازه شاو ده نل (شاید منظورش شبانه است) خوده رساندم، روز که حرکت کردم شب رسیدم.

از منطقه خواهرزاده‌ام زنگ زد برایم. آن‌ها چون به کجران خیلی نزدیک‌اند. مین را طالبان گذاشته بودند، طالبان قتل کرد بخدا، منطقه کجران را قتل کرده، همین حالا منطقه جنگ است، ۲۴ ساعت جنگ است. روزی که کرزی صاحب سر تخت نشست، ۱۲ سال تاکنون سمت باغران و چارچینی حکومت نتوانسته. همین حالا جنگ روان است. دولت است، [در] همین منطقه کجران دولت است، او طرف هم طالب این طرف هم طالب. دیگه جنگ است، اردو هم است، اربکی هم است، پولیس هم است. از روزی که کرزی صاحب شیشته سنگر است، یعنی نمی‌تواند اصلا. اردو اگر نبودی همین اربکی اگر نبودی، پولیس محلی نباشه هر لحظه روی کجران جنگه. از روزی که غنی شده، نه پیش از او هم، زمان کرزی صاحب دوازده سال در باغران رفته نتوانسته. همین جنگ [است]، شب در منطقه مین گور کو، مین‌های کنترولی که هیچ مسلمان‌ها خبر ندارند. در سطح ولایت دایکندی از منطقه کجران بیش‌تر شهید نداده در افغانستان. گفتم که از فامیل خودم چهار تا شهید دادم. داماد ما شهید شده، باجه مه شهید که آن‌ها را من نیاوردم سیاه سرهایش هم آنجا هستند، که هرکدام چهار یا پنج یتیم دارند، در کجران هیچ خانوادۀ نیست که شهید نداده باشد. که چهار تا یتیم یکش دارد پنج تا هم دیگرش که یکی دامادم می‌شود دیگرش هم باجه‌ام می‌شود. منطقه کجران بی‌اعضای شهدا نیست.

امروز برای مردم خدمت می‌کنم و در هیچ مشکلات اشک مه نامده، مگر امروز که اینجا دیدم اشک‌هایم بالا آمد (گریه می‌کند) در طول عمر به قرآن اگر مشکلات سرم تأثیر کرده باشد، اما امروز عکس برادرم را دیدم اشکم جاری شد، داغ از دست دادن برادر خیلی سخت است(گریه می کند). برادرم ازدواج کرده بود، سه تا اولاد دارد که دو تا پسر است و یک تا دختر؛ اولادهایش یکی سن ۱۲ و دو تای دیگر پشت‌سر اوست، فرزند بزرگش پسر است، در همان‌جا متولد شده بود.

ما که رفتیم آن‌ها را به مسجد برده بودند. دیگه نمی‌شد، کالای آن‌ها همین پایین به بالا گوشت و خون بود. همین رواج ما است که شهید را هیچ چیز را از جانش نکشیم، با همان کالایش -مسجد خیلی خنک بود، همین تیرماه بود دیگه- ما هم رسیدیم قبر و تمام چیزها را جور کرده بود، فقط در همان مسجد داخل کفن با همان کالایش پیچ داده بود، فقط دیدارش را کردیم. از پایین به بالا دیگه خیلی صدمه دیده بود، نیاز به دیدن نبود، فقط رویش را دیدم.

برای ما که اطلاع آمد ساعت‌های یازده بجه بود، یازده صبح. برای ما از کجران زنگ زدند ساعت‌های یازده بود، که من آن را یادداشت گرفتم. اینش را نمی‌دانم که ساعت‌های ۱۰ بجه بوده مقصد ساعت یازده به ما خبر دادند که بیایید. طالبان می‌گویند ما نکرده‌ایم کس دیگر کرده، طالبان همان‌جا می‌روند و می‌آیند، موترها می‌رود و می‌آید. اگر چه تا حدی که بشناسند که ملکی است و بی‌غرض می‌باشند کاری با آن‌ها ندارند، اگر یک وقت بفهمد که برادر کسی پولیس یا اربکی است، او را می‌گیرند. چند تا که در همان وقت‌ها گرفته بود، از موتر تا کرده بود، یکی که برادرش را یوسف می‌گفت را پایین کرده بود، به یک گوشش فیر کرده و مرمی از گوش دیگرش بیرون شده بود و به او گفته بودند که چرا برادرت اربکی است.

در این شکل اگر شناسایی کنند که بشناسه که برادرش پولیس است یا اربکی یه یا مثلا چیزیه می‌کشند، اگر نشناسد بازهم غرض نداره. دیگه راهی [هم] نداره خو راه منطقه از همان‌جا است. برادرم کشاورز بود و برای کار رفته بود، زمین پدری همان‌جا است. مه خود مه نرفتم بیخی دل مه از همان منطقه سرد شده آن‌طور سرد شده که خدا می‌داند.

اگرچه که من بگویم زندگی خوبه، نه فقط شب و روز تیر می‌شه. وقتی که تو مهاجر باشی و اینجا بیایی و پول نداشته باشی، امروز در همان قریه که قریه نایبی می‌گه که همان‌جا یک‌نیم جریب زمین‌واری یه، کشاورزی یه، دیگه او تو چیزی نداره. مقصد یک روزگار میچله دیگه. خانمش بیچاره که من بگویم ماشین کار کرده باشد نه، یا گلدوزی کار کرده باشد نه، همین ماشین‌های ساده کار می‌کرد به منطقه، اینجا دیگه نه. پشم و این چیزها زن‌ها می‌آورند در قریه اما خوب معلومات ندارم. سه طفلش مکتب می‌رود، هرسه تایش به مکتب شیخ‌آباد می‌گه، همان‌جا می‌ره.

خواسته‌ام این است که خدایا مرگ زیر لحاف به مه نکنی، همان‌گونه که برادرم شهید شده، جام شهادت از خدا می‌خواهم. این آرزوی مه است در خاطره هم نوشته کردم. جام شهادت می‌خواهم که اصلا اگر خدا مره زیر لحاف می‌کند نکند، اگر مه بنده خاص تو ام، بگذار که جام شهادت را بنوشم، هرچه که شد. این آرزو را از خدا دارم.

بسیار یک اخلاق خاص داشت. همین اخلاق خاصش که بیادم می‌آید دلم آتش می‌گیرد(گریه راوی). به خاطر خوبی و مهربانی‌هایش دلم می‌سوزد، وقتی دوستانش نزد من غلام‌رضا می‌گویند و از او یاد می‌کنند، روز روشن سر من شب تاریک می‌شود، حالا از او چه بگویم، به آن‌ها نیز می‌گویم که او را نزد من یاد نکنید، قلبم آتش می‌گیرد، حالا که رفته نیست، اما غم‌هایش کمرم را شکسته است. جوان‌مرگی بسیار سخت است، ما سه برادر بودیم او برادر کوچکم بود، نزد ما بسیار نازدانه بود و او را بسیار دوست داشتیم، احترام مرا خیلی داشت، همۀ ما می‌میریم، ما هم پشت سر آن‌ها می‌رویم، لیکن همین داغی را که برای یکدیگر خود می‌گذاریم بسیار سخت است.

Mechanic! The Bad Luck That I am Suffering from Happened to You Too

Name: Mohammad Hasan

Date of Birth: 2 April 1942

Date of Injury: 8 March 1994

Type of Arm: Kalashnikov

More than ten people were killed that night, my son included. We were digging a grave for my son. We were almost done when rockets started firing again. Everyone left and wished peace for my son. They said they didn't want to be killed. I was left alone. There was no one else. I wished my son was a kid so I could pick him up and put him in his grave.

I entered the alley and knocked on a door. There were many people in that house. They all refuged to a corner of the house. When I told them the story, some of them said they are no better than my son. They followed me to the mosque to take my son’s corpse to the cemetery. We buried my son in the dark.

After we were done, no one was left there. I was wondering how to go home. I returned home in the darkness. When I came home, I saw that my wife was sitting very sad with a neighbor next to her. She told me that Nilofar was wounded. None of us had seen her. A neighbor took her to the hospital. The neighbor told me that Nilofar was on the roof. When the rocket hit our house, our son was killed instantly and Nilofar was injured. She was jolting in the yard, and the neighbor took her to the hospital.

That night passed. In the morning, I wanted to find someone to go to the hospital with so that we were not alone if any of us were injured on the way. When I left the house, I raised my hand. There was a house close to ours. Someone from the roof of it shot me. It was 7 AM. Another person was watching me from the front house. He told me to enter the house before I get shot again. I went. He tied my hand. He said, “Uncle, the bleeding does not stop.” In that moment my blanket (men’s scarf) slipped down. A woman ran to take it. Just then, a rocket was fired and the poor woman was killed. A boy riding his bicycle was passing by. He was killed by a Kalashnikov bullet. He had no one to look after him.

Members of the house that I had entered told me that if the bleeding did not stop, it could kill me. He said to get up and go somewhere from the back way. I thanked him. My hand was bleeding. I stepped down the first and second stairs, but fell down the third stair and lost consciousness.

When I woke up, there were two boys next to me. The tied my hand with a piece of cloth and were giving me syrup. They told me, ”Uncle, there is fighting everywhere. We cannot find anything in the bazar. We will take you outside. You might find a car. Take yourself to a hospital.” After they took me outside, they ran back. I realized that no one was outside.

There were bullets being shot everywhere. I thought I was going to be killed. I wanted to enter an alley but I fell down. After some minutes, there was a bullet shot next to me. I tried to get up, but again my sight grew dim. Someone I knew very well was passing by. He was the District Chief of the 16th District. I told him, “Sir, help me to take myself to a hospital.” He replied, “You are about to die, and want me to get killed too.”

Just then, two young boys riding bicycles appeared. They got down and looked at me. One of them said, "There is someone killed." When I heard them told them that I am alive, helped me to get to the hospital. One of them said, "Leave him alone, we will be killed." But the other one said, “No, let’s help him. He has come out of his home and is injured.” One of them held me up to ride the bicycle.

I asked them, “Where are you taking me?” He said, “There is not a fight in the village. But in here, you can be killed by a bullet any time.” He tied the blanket around my shoulder and moved. A few steps further, I saw one of my friends. I was happy to see him. He was aware of what had happened to my family in the last two days and when he saw me, came toward me. I told the boys that he was a friend, and if it is possible leave me with him so that he helps me. The boys asked him, “Uncle, can you help him? We have to go and see how our families are.” He helped me and we entered a house.

There was food inside the house that we entered, plates were filled with rice and breads and were left untouched. When the fighting got intense, they house members had ran away without touching their food.

I asked him how he could help me. I told him that I had enough money with me, find a driver and give him as much as he wants. He left the house. After some minutes he returned and said there were no cars outside. I was wondering what to do. I gave him the address of a doctor I knew and asked him to tell the doctor that the mechanic is injured. Thankfully, he agreed and left. When he returned, he said that houses’ members have all left the house and the house was empty. He had no clue where they were.

Suddenly, I remembered a commander I knew. Almost a month ago, he lost three of his family members, his father and two of his brothers.

The person who was with me knew him too and told me that he had just seen him outside. I asked him to go out and tell the commander that mechanic is injured; he knows me.

After a few minutes, the commander came and told me, “The bad luck I am suffering from happened to you too.” I said, “Yeah, I lost my son and my three-year-old daughter is injured. I don’t know how my family is and they don’t know where I am.”

The commander called in his soldiers and they took me to a Russian Jeep. They took me to the Wazir Akbar Khan Hospital. I don’t remember anything after we got close to the hospital. I just remember that they put me on a blanket. There were three people wearing masks, one of them injected me with Anesthetic Ampoule, I was unconscious after that. When I woke up, my hand hurt. I looked around to see where I was. When I took a careful look, there were three more people on the ground and they were injured like me. We were all on the third floor and were lying on the ground so that we were safe from bullets. We were lying in the corridor. Many people were injured. I saw one of my relatives. He was injured too. I asked him to let my sister know that I am in the hospital. After three days, my sister could inform my wife about me. They had looked for me in all the nearby hospitals and could not find me.

Even now, my hand is numb. If it is wounded or burned, I don’t feel it. It took two months for my wound to get better. “Every night, I walk to my duty to find bread to feed my children, to be able to send them to school. We are a populated family.”

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.

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."

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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